As the sun rose, the commoners gazed at the notices posted throughout the city, their faces filled with shock.
[Due to reports of an attempted Demon summoning in the royal capital, Prince James and Bishop Saffi led an overnight city-wide search. The operation culminated in the Beast Fighting Arena, where 124 cultists were slain, and Demon Karla, who instigated the Demonic Disaster centuries ago, was eradicated.]
[The following evil organizations were eliminated during the search:]
[411 Orla Street: A child trafficking ring of 17 members, all executed.]
[112 Third Avenue: 21 cultists of the Secret Wheel Society, all executed.]
[...]
[...]
[In total, 946 criminals were eliminated in the above operations. Their severed heads have been piled 100 meters outside the northern city gates. Citizens with knowledge of other hidden evil organizations may report to 12 Glorious Road for due rewards.]
"A Demon?"
Such a creature had descended upon the capital yesterday?
Most commoners were momentarily stunned by this news. These legendary beings existed only in tales, evoking more curiosity than fear. Centuries of time and generations of change had long blurred the concrete image of Demons in their minds.
For now, the news held little tangible impact. The shock of discovering nearby cult hideouts far outweighed the distant terror of a Demon.
To most people, no matter how grave an event, it held little meaning unless it directly affected them.
Understanding this, Jem had ordered the detailed addresses of the eradicated factions to be listed.
Regardless, the sheer scale of the underground purge showcased the royal family's resolve.
In the coming years, the capital's security would undoubtedly soar, and these achievements would greatly aid Jem Woz's coronation.
On a desolate island, torrential rain poured down.
Within an extremely crude settlement, the Yar Principality's army had quickly restored order after being stranded, thanks to its intact command structure.
Wooden huts, campfires, and barricades soon rose through collective effort.
At this moment, sitting dazedly in a flimsy hut—where the rain outside seeped inside—Harry longed to twist Jem Woz's head off.
Though only a few days had passed, Harry, as a noble, had already tasted the hardships of primitive life.
Making fire by rubbing sticks and tasteless food were bearable, but the lack of proper toilet paper forced the use of leaves and stone shards—an entirely new ordeal for Harry.
After someone's unfortunate encounter with an irritating plant led to severe anal inflammation, smooth, non-serrated leaves became a hot commodity among the soldiers, sparking frequent fights.
This was simply unbearable for Harry!
He couldn't believe that the elite troops under his command had fallen to the point of fighting over leaves to wipe their backsides.
If word got out, it would completely tarnish the thousand-year honor of the Yar Principality.
Since paper became widespread, even barbarians knew to use it for wiping!
Gritting his teeth, he growled, "Jem Woz, you are truly vicious..."
Back then, he had thought exile to a deserted island wouldn't be much of a problem, especially with his numerical advantage. Minor threats like wild beasts and poisonous insects seemed trivial—yet reality had slapped him hard in the face.
Just as he was lost in thought, pondering how to escape this predicament, a rapid knocking sound reached his ears.
The urgent frequency made Harry fear that the crude wooden door he had painstakingly crafted might not last more than a few seconds before being knocked down.
But he didn't lose his temper. He knew only a few people would come to him at this time, and they must have urgent matters.
With resignation, he hurriedly called out, "What is it?"
The voice outside replied in panic, "Sir, it seems an infectious disease has broken out among the soldiers! Many are complaining of swelling, pain, dizziness, and blurred vision!"
"What?! An infectious disease?!"
Hearing this, Harry's expression changed drastically. He immediately stood up, pushed open the wooden door, and asked with utmost seriousness, "Are you certain they've contracted an infectious disease?"
"It must be true. Over a hundred men are showing identical symptoms. Many don't even know each other and haven't shared meals—it can't be food poisoning!"
Once confirmed, Harry's face shifted through a range of emotions, like the rapid mask changes in Sichuan opera.
Every soldier under his command had undergone years of rigorous training, and even the weakest far surpassed ordinary men in strength.
With their physical condition, they were practically immune to common illnesses, let alone infectious diseases. But exceptions did exist—rare cases where an extremely dangerous disease emerged in a place, potent enough to affect even superhuman warriors.
For them, lacking any medical resources, this was absolutely deadly.
Though there were a few army doctors on the island, they had no medicine—rendering them practically useless.
In the past, the best course of action in such situations was isolation and executing the infected—to nip the outbreak in the bud before it spread.
But Harry had another concern: what consequences would such actions bring on this deserted island?
These soldiers, already exiled here after a crushing defeat, were simmering with resentment.
Only through his accumulated authority and psychological conditioning had Harry managed to keep them in line.
If, at this critical moment, they discovered Harry intended to abandon their comrades, the fear of sharing the same fate might trigger a mutiny!
That would pose an even greater danger to Harry, forcing him to tread carefully.
After pacing back and forth at the door, he turned to the guard who had delivered the news and ordered sternly, "Find a remote spot and gather all the sick there. Then summon the doctors—I have questions for them!"
Upon receiving the order, the man immediately perked up as if finding his backbone, his expression brightening:
"Yes!"
Watching the retreating figure, Harry's stern face quickly turned troubled.
In truth, he hadn't come up with any solution.
All he could do was isolate them first, then pretend to exert every effort in treatment—whether effective or not, appearances had to be maintained!
Without even basic medicine, any treatment would be futile...
But as long as the act was convincing enough, it should suffice to placate the soldiers...
More detailed measures would require consulting the doctors.
After all, though medicine was lacking, experience remained.
If they believed there was still hope, Harry had no reason to sacrifice those soldiers.
——Two months later.
The middle-aged officer tasked with monitoring the desolate island and preventing its inhabitants from building escape vessels stood on the warship's deck, gazing at the lifeless island in the distance.
Only a chilling dread filled his heart.
The settlement recently erected on the island had now been reduced to charred ruins.
For over ten days, Yar's forces on that island had descended into utter madness for reasons unknown.
Like the most deranged beasts, they showed neither fear nor hesitation.
Every conceivable method of slaughter was displayed in their hands, horrifying to witness.
Now, apart from countless rotting corpses, not a single living creature remained—if those monsters lurking in the shadows, avoiding sunlight while endlessly wandering, could even be called living...
Those grotesque abominations had begun emerging from the piles of corpses two days prior.
Standing five to six meters tall, their forms resembled Flesh Orbs haphazardly molded by a Demon—a patchwork of decaying flesh, with malformed limbs and faces scattered randomly across their bodies, oozing pustules and mucus coating their forms. Each step left behind trails of putrid slime, their mere sight enough to induce nausea.
Though the officer desperately wanted to order the ship's cannons to fire, obliterating those twisted monstrosities polluting the world, he ultimately refrained from rash action.
Such an incident required immediate notification to Jem Woz—no one dared make decisions without his command.
Moreover, the officer himself doubted whether artillery could even destroy those creatures...
While they hadn't yet demonstrated swimming capabilities, provoking them might incite an assault on the ship or migration elsewhere...
The officer couldn't fathom the consequences, so his only hope now was to stabilize the situation before it worsened.
——After listening to the soldier's report, Jem Woz set down the letter handwritten by the commanding officer.
He now had a general understanding of the situation.
Frowning in thought, he instructed the soldier:
"Go rest for now. Tomorrow, I'll give you a letter to deliver to your commanding officer."
"Yes!"
As the soldier withdrew, Jem gently massaged his temples and sighed deeply.
A few days ago, the letter merely reported that the people of Yar Principality were killing each other, so he hadn't paid it much mind.
But now it seemed that leaving it unchecked would undoubtedly cause major trouble...
That same afternoon.
Sitting on the windowsill, Olthagia calmly asked:
"So you're saying the commotion there has caught the Church's attention and needs to be dealt with, is that it?"
Nodding, Jem replied respectfully:
"Yes, my lord. The anomalies there have been spotted by passing ships. If we don't clean it up thoroughly, it will certainly invite many unnecessary troubles."
Olthagia chuckled, unconcerned:
"In that case, do as you see fit. I've already obtained what I needed anyway."
With Olthagia's approval secured, Jem inwardly let out a slight sigh of relief:
"Understood, my lord..."
Watching Jem.Woz retreat, Olthagia gave a faint shake of his head, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
Weakness is the greatest sin...