92. Disease Spreading in the Mountain People’s Village

“Tikal has collapsed! It’s the god’s curse again!”

Inkheart’s face changed as he turned around and rushed to the patient.

“The medicine!”

“We ran out of the medicine you usually tell us to take. We were wondering what to do, and fortunately you arrived…!”

A child not fully grown himself was holding another collapsed child, crying.

“Just a moment. I know how to care for patients. I can provide some emergency treatment.”

I stepped forward, having observed Schmidt’s medical practice over his shoulder. Inkheart hesitated briefly but soon nodded, seemingly realizing he had no other choice.

So Inkheart disappeared to make medicine, while Arshama and I followed the child into the room where the patient lay.

“I’ll take care of the patient while new medicine is being prepared.”

“Yes, little friend, what’s your name?”

“Ko, Koroso……”

“Koroso, this big sister will look after the patient, so will you stay with me?”

Arshama cheerfully comforted the crying Koroso. I firmly instructed Arshama on what he needed to do.

“No, you massage the collapsed child’s hands and feet. His hands are cold.”

After assigning him a massage to promote blood circulation, I examined the area under the collapsed child’s eyes.

‘He has almost no color.’

“Koroso, how did your friend collapse?”

“I, I don’t know. We were just playing as usual, and suddenly whoosh……”

“You mentioned the god’s curse earlier? Do you call sudden collapses the god’s curse?”

Arshama asked.

But the child, seemingly frightened of us strangers, kept his mouth firmly shut.

〈People are suffering from unknown diseases, and due to that anxiety, who knows what major incident might occur.〉

Inkheart had said earlier. With a very grave expression.

* * *

“The Mountain People must welcome the coming prince! But that prince does not just come!”

Boom boom boom.

Smoke rose from burning grass. In the dark night, flames blazed brightly, and the temple’s shaman incited the people.

“Shaman.”

Among the people, a mother holding a child bowed deeply while crying.

“Please heal my child.”

“Then offer blood!”

“Sob……”

The hesitating mother cut her own arm with a knife. Blood dripped onto the altar.

“The god has received the blood!”

“Blood, sacrifices, and thus atonement!”

Boom boom boom boom. The drum continued to beat without stopping.

“Mo……ther.”

“My child!”

The child who had been hanging his head lifted it with difficulty, opened his eyes, and looked at his mother. This child had lost strength and consciousness all day.

“A miracle has occurred!”

“Thank you, Shaman!”

“Do you see? The god responds to our prayers! If we just offer blood, the prince! The day of miracles will surely come!”

The shaman, with blood all over her mouth from tearing apart birds with her own teeth, shouted to the believers.

“The prince is coming!”

“Glory to the Mountain People!”

‘Yes, the prince will come.’

Not the prince of the Mountain People, but another god she believed in. He will descend upon this land after receiving a thousand sacrifices. The shaman smiled at the innocent lambs.

After the ceremony ended and people left, the shaman went down below the temple, avoiding people’s eyes.

This was a place she had newly dug since recently becoming the tribe’s shaman. No one among the Mountain People, except for her closest confidants, knew that a new temple had been created beneath the original one.

And the shaman told even those who knew about this place that it was her personal prayer room.

‘As of today, 988 sacrifices have been offered.’

The shaman prayed to a suspicious idol.

‘Not much longer now. Please wait, my god. I pray for your descent.’

The idol that received the prayer flashed its red eyes.

After finishing her prayer and coming back up, the shaman heard an interesting report.

“There was a commotion during the day?”

“Inkheart took away our god’s gift.”

The shaman did not operate during the day. That’s why she only now heard the story about sacrifices suddenly appearing and then Inkheart taking them away.

The shaman didn’t think deeply about it.

“What matters is that it’s voluntary.”

‘Preparing sacrifices without me even having to tell them. And even adding the story that they fell from the sky. Quite admirable.’

Without believing for a moment that people had actually fallen from the sky by themselves, the shaman considered the sacrifice incident as proof of loyalty from her supporters.

* * *

The collapsed child Tikal showed improvement after taking the medicine Inkheart had prepared.

“I mixed my spirit power with herbs commonly used here. We had run out, so it took time to make new ones.”

Though the child regained consciousness, Inkheart’s expression did not brighten.

“Is this the god’s curse?”

“Even the medicine I prescribe can only temporarily restore a person’s vitality, not completely cure their illness. People call it a curse because they know nothing about the disease.”

Inkheart added.

“More and more people are collapsing, and more frequently. That’s why I’m telling you to leave.”

He spoke coldly and then stood up, saying he needed to make more medicine.

“So what symptoms do people with the god’s curse actually show?”

I wanted to ask more questions, but he disappeared quickly. As I muttered to myself in frustration, surprisingly, Arshama provided an answer.

“The symptoms differ for each person. But commonly, they lack strength, have difficulty getting up in the morning, and feel lethargic. They shiver as if they have a cold even when they don’t, and then collapse. Sometimes they get injured when they fall badly, and some people never wake up after collapsing once.”

Arshama explained that with his remarkable friendliness, he had persuaded Koroso to tell him about additional symptoms.

“Disease and human sacrifice. Is this the past problem we need to solve?”

“By the way, that child earlier had white lines on his nails.”

“Ah, I think Koroso had them too. The children looked a bit disheveled overall.”

White lines on nails, dull thin hair, pale eyelids, and fainting.

“Humans are selfish and don’t pray unless they’re desperate. But offering people as sacrifices? They must really be cornered.”

Arshama said. He observed me as he spoke.

“You have an expression like you almost understand something.”

“This might not be…… the god’s curse.”

“Then go ahead and say it. This is already a past that’s been written anyway.”

* * *

As night fell, Inkheart’s temporary residence grew quiet. The daytime patients had disappeared, and only Koroso remained, grinding medicinal herbs.

‘It was quite a spectacle during the day. I never would have thought that the great spirit mage Inkheart had such medical skills.’

〈Spirit mage, this person has a coughing illness!〉

〈Come here. I’ll boost your energy with my spirit power.〉

〈Spirit mage, this person says they’re dizzy!〉

〈Here are herbs infused with spirit power.〉

〈This person is…〉

〈Again, with spirit power…〉

But watching carefully, he was patching up all treatments with his own spirit power.

As expected of a contractor of the Spirit King, it was a crude prescription possible only because his own spirit power was abundant.

‘Boosting energy with spirit power might help healing, but it won’t be a fundamental cure.’

It was unreasonable to expect professional medical knowledge from a volunteer helping natives in a remote area.

Eventually, unable to stand by, I helped with prescriptions using medical knowledge I had learned over Schmidt’s shoulder. Arshama also shared information about traditional herbs commonly used by foreigners.

As the day quickly passed and everywhere grew quiet, giving us some time, I approached the little one who had somehow opened his heart to me.

“Koroso, why are you grinding herbs alone? Children should sleep at night.”

“This is all I can do to help.”

Koroso shrugged.

“People receive help from the spirit mage but are wary of him. Because the temple is hostile to the spirit mage. The temple people practically curse the spirit mage, so people come here secretly for help.”

This explained why the patients visible during the day had all disappeared at night.

“I would probably be dead if it weren’t for Inkheart. What’s the most precious sacrifice? Inkheart saved me when they were trying to offer me, an orphaned child, at the ceremony. I stay here because there’s no one to say anything to me anyway.”

Koroso continued grinding the herbs. With his small hands, tirelessly.

“Before Inkheart came, this was the only usable medicine. Now these herbs are more effective because Inkheart infuses them with his power. No matter how much the temple curses him, people who have received his help remember it deep down, so I help as much as I can.”

“I’ll help too.”

“No, Anette should help Inkheart during the day like before. I can do this much. But I can’t teach people about healing herbs like Anette or Arshama do.”

Having grown up without guardians, Koroso had limited education but was all the more resolute for it. Despite his awkward manners, he always showed maximum respect to Inkheart who had saved him.

“Inkheart has a really big heart.”

“That’s right, just look at how he accepted me and Arshama.”

“If it were me, I’d be angry at people who can’t even properly say thank you after receiving help. But he said it’s okay because he’s seen worse people while traveling the world. After I nearly burned to death, I didn’t want to believe in gods. But when I see Inkheart, I want to believe in gods again. If someone so good exists in the world, maybe gods exist too.”

Koroso refused my help to the end. His attitude was both admirable and pitiful. Arshama, who had arrived at some point, was watching Koroso with a calm expression.

I stayed by the child’s side for a while, and after confirming that he had finished his work, I headed toward Inkheart.