Chapter 149 Death Is Coming, only Pain

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On a street deep in the East End.

Old Kohler hurried back to his rented apartment with the ham in a paper bag.

He looked around warily, fearing that those hungry guys with wolf-like eyes would pounce and snatch away his "New Year's gift."

When he was still in the countryside, he had seen wolves before, but he didn't expect that he could still experience that familiar feeling in Backlund.

"It's still too expensive and too big, so I can only partner up with someone to buy one and cut it into several portions... This is enough for Taylor and I to eat during the New Year holiday. Every meal can have two, three, no, at least five slices. I can also cut some ham meat and stew it with potatoes in soup without even adding salt..." Thinking of this, Old Kohler looked at the ham in his arms and couldn't help but feel his throat as he looked at the red meat mixed with a lot of white. He squirmed and swallowed.

As he walked, he felt that the fog around him had become much thicker. The church bell tower that was still clear in the distance was gradually engulfed by a mixture of light yellow and iron black. Even the pedestrians around him who were more than ten steps away were only visible. Blurred shadow.

Old Kohler instantly felt like he had been forgotten by the world, and he raised his palms to cover his mouth and nose.

"Why does the fog smell so bad today?" He muttered and quickened his pace.

One step, two steps, three steps, old Kohler felt that his face was getting hot and his forehead seemed to be burning.

His chest felt tight, his throat felt uncomfortable, and he soon developed difficulty breathing.

"Are you sick? Damn it, I still want to have a wonderful New Year, but now I can only send my savings to the clinic and the hospital... No, maybe just take a nap, just cover me with my quilt and take a nap. Got it!" Old Kohler muttered to himself silently, his head getting hotter and hotter, and becoming more and more confused.

Hey, hey, hey, he heard his own labored breathing, his hands softened, and the paper bag containing the ham fell heavily to the ground.

Old Kohler subconsciously knelt down to pick it up, but dropped it there.

He held down the bag containing the ham and tried to collect it in his arms.

thump! Old Kohler's vision began to blur and saw someone a few steps away who had also fallen down and was out of breath. He was about the same age as him, also in his fifties, with gray temples.

Suddenly, he realized that he was about to die.

This reminded him of his wife and son, who also suddenly contracted the plague and soon died.

This reminded him of the time when he was hospitalized for illness. The patients in the same room were still laughing and chatting that night, but by early morning they had been sent to the morgue.

This reminded him of the friends he had met when he was a homeless man. After a winter, many of them disappeared, and were eventually found stiff under bridges or in street corners sheltered from the wind. A small number of them died from sudden access to food.

This reminded him of the time when he was still a good worker, and how his neighbors in the block would die so suddenly. Some of them died from headaches and convulsions, some accidentally fell into the molten steel just out of the furnace, and some suffered from bone pain all over their bodies. They swelled to death, and some even fell silently in the factory, batch after batch.

This reminded him of what he heard from a drunkard in a bar when he was looking for information. He said:

"People like us are like straw in the field. When the wind blows, we will fall down. Even if there is no wind, we may fall down."...

The wind is coming... Old Kohler suddenly had this thought.

While hugging the paper bag containing the ham tightly, he reached for the pocket of his old jacket, trying to take out the crumpled cigarette that he had been reluctant to smoke.

What he couldn't understand was why he, who was healthy, would suddenly become sick. He had never experienced such a thick fog before.

What he couldn't understand was that his life had just gotten on the right track and was developing in a good enough direction. He had received the reward paid by Detective Moriarty in advance and bought a piece of ham that he had been thinking about for a long time to welcome the New Year. He was looking forward to it. Tasting its deliciousness, why did it suddenly collapse.

Old Kohler took out the crumpled cigarette, but he could no longer lift his arm and hit the ground hard.

He used his last strength to shout out the words he had accumulated in his heart, but he could only let the weak words linger around his mouth, unable to come out.

He heard himself asking:

"Why……"

"Dr. Black!"

A roar like thunder exploded in his ears, causing old Kohler's consciousness to stay almost out of his body for a while longer.

Maria spoke loudly to old Kohler to keep him conscious. From a distance, a doctor with chestnut hair and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses ran out of breath and hurriedly took out a bottle of clear-colored medicine from his pocket. To take the oral solution, I held Old Kohler's head up on the back of his head, put the oral solution to his lips and drank it.

The doctor wore a mask that was saturated with the solution.

The cool liquid slid down his throat, with a sweet and sour taste. Under the doctor's instructions, Old Kohler opened his mouth wide and tried to breathe, his lungs trying to expand outward like a broken bellows.

Soon, an expressionless man in a hooded robe came over, easily picked up old Kohler, put a mask on him, and rushed to Dr. Black's clinic a street away.

"No, the patient just now is too old and in poor health. My medicine may not be able to maintain his life."

"The toxicity of this fog is too strong! It far exceeds my sequence! I can only slow it down, and the patients must go to churches and hospitals!"

"I know." Maria circled around calmly, "Keep doing this and do as much as you can."

Dr. Black nodded. He wiped the sweat from his head, pulled up the mask, and after saying this hastily, he turned around and ran to another patient on the street whose chest was still heaving.

About two minutes later, the living corpse belonging to Gavin Lid ran over again, helped Dr. Black transport the patient away, and brought a box of medicines that had just been prepared.

Gavin Lead himself is staying in the clinic, preparing medicines and taking care of patients according to Dr. Black's requirements.

Admisole is assisting him so that there won't be any mistakes in dispensing the medicine.

And his five living corpses are following Dr. Black, constantly transporting mild patients and supplies.

"The ever-burning fire, the protector of those who defy fate...the prisoner of chaos and death struggle..."

"His Royal Highness Richard Ernst is with us..."

Seeing that the coordination between the living corpse and the pharmacist was perfect, Maria did not dare to delay, turned around and left, and began to recite the honorary name for the third time. Her hand had already reached into her pocket, ready to open the black box containing the sealed artifact at any time.

Basically, all the residents in this area who could be saved were saved. It took only ten minutes for the poisonous fog to spread. Maria was busy evacuating the people in front of her, and in her haste, she only read the honorary name in full twice.

She quickly moved to another street, which in her mind was where the child who had a good relationship with Aliya lived.

But when she arrived, she found that the street was filled with thick fog, like a wall, almost turning into reality. She couldn't even see people or objects two meters away. Looking at it like this, it was obvious that there would be no survivors on this street. Maria clenched her fists, increased the twisting strength, and prepared to quickly go in and explore. At this moment, she suddenly heard the sound of high heels, one after another, with just the right amount of time in between, enough to make a light and elegant female image appear in her mind.

At the same time, Maria found herself shaking violently.

Thin spider threads wrapped around her wrists and neck, leaving streaks of blood and pulling her hands out of her pockets.

Her spirituality sketched a picture: behind her, a graceful woman in a white dress walked gracefully from the depths of the black and yellow mist. Plague and poison surrendered at her feet, burning with black flames. Spider silk stretched from her fingertips, beautiful and terrifying.

"The cute little girl actually tried to interrupt the progress of my digestion of the potion."

The witch laughed, and Maria was dizzy as the seductive words kept echoing in her ears. She eagerly wanted to follow the sound and look back at this woman's flawless face.

But if she moved a little, the spider silk on her neck would immediately tighten and cut the blood beads. If the movement was slightly larger, the spider silk would cut open her carotid artery, and even cut off the entire head smoothly!

"Why don't you despair? Do you still have a trump card?"

Ms. Despair came behind her, exhaled like a blue breath, put her soft hands into Maria's coat pocket, and took out a black sealed box.

"Is this your trump card?" Ms. Despair smiled and threw the box aside, "It's just... a sealed artifact."

Maria couldn't look back. She heard the sound of a box falling to the ground from a certain direction twenty or thirty meters behind her, and her heart seemed to be hit to the ground.

…………

Liv hung up the last of the starched laundry to dry. She looked at the sky outside, and was a little confused by the fog that had become thicker at some point.

"Anyway, it's still very early, and our washing work has been completed..." Liv's expression gradually became heavy.

Finishing work too early is not a good thing. It does not mean that you can rest. It only means that there is insufficient work and insufficient income.

Liv took a breath, turned around and said to her eldest daughter Freya, who was wiping her hands and looking straight at the vocabulary book in the next room: "It's almost the New Year, and most of our employers have left Backlund to go on vacation elsewhere. We can’t go on like this anymore and have to find new jobs.”

She walked towards the door as she spoke: "During such festivals, those rich people will hold banquets one after another. Their servants may not be enough. They may hire temporary kitchen cleaning ladies. I plan to ask , Freya, stay at home and pick up Daisy when the time comes. We need income, and those bastard thieves, robbers, and human traffickers also need income to welcome the New Year."

In the East End, if every woman who has not entered a factory wants to survive, she must be either crafty or provocative.

Freya replied briskly: "Okay."

Her mind had wandered to the small table and vocabulary book next door.

Just as Liv opened the door, she suddenly stumbled and fell to the ground.

Cough cough cough! She coughed violently, her face turned red, and every joint in her body ached unbearably.

Freya ran over in panic and squatted down:

"Mom, what's wrong with you? Mom, what's wrong with you?"

"No, cough, I have no problem." Liv's breathing gradually became difficult.

"No, you are sick, you are sick! I will take you to the hospital immediately!" Freya tried her best to help her mother up.

"It's too expensive, it's too expensive, cough, go to Charity Hospital, Charity Hospital, I can wait, no, it's not a big problem." Liv replied breathlessly.

Freya shed tears and her vision quickly blurred.

At this moment, she felt her lungs burning up, her body collapsed, and Liv fell to the ground again.

"Freya, what's wrong with you? Ahem, are you sick too?" Liv shouted anxiously, "The money is, ahem, blocked by the cabinet, ahem, in the hole in the wall. Hurry, go to the hospital. ! Find a good, good doctor!"

Freya wanted to say something, but no sound came out. Her eyes slanted upward and she saw the door next door.

That was their bedroom, with their bunk beds, her favorite small table and vocabulary book.

Her body suddenly twitched.

Liv's coughing stopped abruptly.

In the public elementary school on the edge of the East District, the fog is not yet thick, but many students have begun to cough.

The teacher on duty was trained and immediately ordered: "Quick, go to the church, go to the church next door!"

Daisy stood up in panic and followed the crowd towards the church next to the school.

Suddenly, her heart palpitated, and she felt panicked about losing something important.

...Mom...Freya...Daisy turned her head sharply and wanted to rush home against the crowd.

However, she was stopped, and she was grabbed by the teachers and dragged to the church.

Daisy struggled hard and shouted heartbreakingly:

"Mom! Freya!"

"Mom! Freya!"

…

In the East District, the dock area, and the factory area, those who are old or have hidden diseases are like felled trees, falling one after another in the fog. At this time, those who come into contact with them are infected with the plague and die quickly. Relatively able-bodied adults and children also experienced mild discomfort.

In their eyes, the mist mixed with light yellow and iron black was like the coming "god of death".

On the Tuesday of the last week of 1349, there was a great smog in Backlund.

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"With the king's approval, the witch made it happen..."

"...unknown purpose...man-made disaster."

The Declined King stood in a hidden part of the street, raising his head to distinguish the sun behind the black and yellow mist. He felt that his spirituality became more and more active in this environment, and he had reached the level of a true god. If He hadn't sealed Himself more tightly, the entire East District would have been chemically reacted by the mixture of poisonous fog and spiritual decay, and it would have become a lifeless death place long ago, because His arrival was proof that this place was about to perish.

"The original estimated death toll was around 200,000, but Source Castle interfered and reduced it to around 70,000..."

He was silent for a moment and suddenly sighed.

"Stop crying to me, humans, I will not save you."

"Your gods promised salvation, your kings and gods slaughtered you, go and cry to them."

At this time, a low cough came from the relatively thin mist in the distance. A girl bowed her body, covered her mouth and nose with a thick cloth, and groped towards the wall.

The cloth she used to cover her mouth and nose was strong and damp, appearing to be a fire response. In addition, she bent down, which slightly reduced the poisonous mist she inhaled to a certain extent, so she was able to survive until now.

But the poisonous mist is not an ordinary mist that can be blocked in this way, but the witch's spirituality. The Declined King looked at her, as if he saw a countdown above her head that was about to end in a few hundred seconds.

She coughed and walked forward in vain, and soon noticed a person standing two meters away. This person looked at her quietly, without any protection or intention to leave. She felt frightened in her heart, and the idea of ​​asking for directions and help disappeared immediately.

"You're in pain and you're still scared."

But when the girl passed by him, the young man suddenly spoke:

"Even if you survive, this poisonous fog will cause irreversible damage to your respiratory tract, brain and lungs that cannot be cured based on your economic level. You will not live to be forty years old, and you will not be able to survive for the next twenty years. Even breathing becomes torture.”

"Do you want to die now?"

The girl was frightened, and she quickly moved a few steps to the side. The young man's figure was immediately covered by the mist, making it vague.

"You...are you...a messenger of God?"

The young man replied: "No."

"I...I still, ahem, want to live." The girl coughed and struggled to finish the sentence. Her voice came from behind the thick cloth, muffled and weak, "I am sick, sir, may I ask you , ahem...do you know where there is a charity hospital nearby?"

The young man pointed his hand: "Go there. Cross this street, turn a corner, and walk another five hundred meters and you will see a clinic."

The girl thanked her and continued to walk forward, holding on to the wall.

The Declined King watched the countdown line gradually go away, and the beats decreased every second. After more than ten meters, only half of it was left. When it turned the corner, it returned to zero.

There was another noisy cry in His ears.

These weak and dead beings were naturally attracted.

"Pointless pain and suffering."

The Declined King withdrew his sight. He stood in the mist, looked forward, and said calmly without any emotion:

"—I curse."

"I curse the human beings on this land. You are so pathetic, and your innate shackles prevent your thoughts from moving forward, so that I can't bear to criticize you. Maybe you should not call yourself human beings, and you will only be regarded as lambs in the future. They exist as domestic animals. You will be sacrificed, sacrificed, and slaughtered at will, with no one paying attention to your pain and sorrow."

"I curse the gods who acquiesced in this matter. You could have directly stated that raising humans is only for yourself, but you insisted on taking the credit of the Creator and covering yourself with a cloak of justice. Your betrayal will definitely become a sign of the separation between gods and humans. You You will be hated, rejected, despised, and disrespected by humans, and will lead to your own end.”

Then, He paused and spoke solemnly:

"After all this is over, I will give you my blessing, and hope that you can regain your life in the future without God."

"The above is the verdict of "Death Star"! "

A word dropped weighs more than a thousand catties.

Curse and spirituality merged, branches of possibility were built, and omens of death spread quietly across the land, and were about to be connected to the fate of everything in the northern continent.

At the same time, since my personality is only floating at the height of the True God at this time, all the True Gods on the earth can feel this huge curse - but as long as the curse is completed, I have many ways to deal with those guys.

Just when the curse was about to be completed, the Declined King suddenly stopped the process. He turned his head and looked in a certain direction in the distance.

The course of fate changed again.

TBC

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Path of decline - omen of death: After determining that a thing must decline, the manifestation of the decline of this thing can be controlled through curses/blessings.