Regressor of the Fallen Family

At Logan’s words, Fabian nodded without hesitation.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“If you do not wish to be punished for disrespecting the king, you’d better explain yourself, Fabian.”

Fabian’s complexion twisted at the remark.

– A cleric is supposed to be judged only by the laws of God, not those of man.

It sounded as if Logan was suggesting breaking the unwritten rule that had been respected by every dynasty on the continent since ancient times, upheld by the great temples of the nine supreme gods—even if no records remained.

“That statement itself is the problem. Your Majesty has no right to coerce us priests.”

Logan let out a dry chuckle.

“Do I have no say when I’ve donated a fortune to the temple and personally requested your services, only for you to slack off in front of me?”

“If you are dissatisfied with our conduct, you should lodge a complaint with the temple. If we are truly at fault, the temple will punish us according to God’s will.”

Confidence had returned to Fabian’s face as he spoke.

It was a logical statement after all.

No king wished to oppose the temples, let alone the gods themselves. For going against the temples, or the gods, meant turning both the populace and the nobility against him.

Of course.

“Is that so? Then I shall inquire with the temple later on.”

Logan, the intimidating superhuman king, had no choice but to back down…

Or so it seemed.

“…?”

In a flash.

“After I kill you.”

A golden aura, radiating fierce presence, hovered threateningly below Fabian’s plump neck.

“Ah!”

The two priests beside Fabian fell to the ground, screaming and scrambling backward on their buttocks as they witnessed the aura’s oppressive force.

“Argh!”

“Save… Save us…!”

It was an utterly unforeseeable spectacle for the priests.

Watching the situation unfold, the priests all fell into panic, but the ones to restrain Logan turned out to be the knights close by.

“Your… Your Majesty, please calm down!”

“Your Majesty. Killing a cleric, especially a high priest, will bring great trouble!”

“Great trouble?”

Despite the knight’s urgent tone, Logan merely sneered, continuing to fix his gaze on the now pale-faced Fabian.

“That couldn’t be.”

“…Your Majesty?”

As the knights looked on bewildered, Logan, with a sinister smile, lightly tapped Fabian’s chin with the tip of his sword.

“High Priest Fabian. Tell me, what kind of problem do you think will arise if I were to kill you? Eh?”

Faced with such provocation, terror-filled eyes of Fabian shifted.

As the shock of the unexpected event wore off, reason returned.

Creak.

“The temple will never sit idly by, Your Majesty. The entire McLain kingdom will crumble from its roots!!”

Anger welled up in place of fear, giving Fabian the strength to shout back.

But that anger was directed toward someone who merely sneered dismissively.

“You’re overestimating your worth, Fabian.”

“The temple alone has the right to punish priests, and you’re trying to cross that line! The price will not be small!”

Fabian’s voice grew stronger as he spoke.

But.

“Yes. It won’t be cheap.”

“…?”

“Would a high priest cost, what, ten million gold?”

“What are you…!”

“And if I deal with those low-ranking priests who were slacking off, another thirty million gold should suffice, for trash like them.”

“How dare you commit sacrilege…!”

“Will Archpriest Pamiel accept the gold and keep quiet, or will he call for the conquest of a kingdom that brings him no benefit? Shall we bet on that?”

Logan’s red eyes bore into Fabian with an icy ferocity.

Confronted with that gaze, Fabian thought of his faction leader and the kingdom’s Archpriest, recalling his notorious greed, and fell silent once again, his face turning pale.

“Rather not waste money needlessly, so do your job properly, priest. Understand?”

A resplendent golden aura gently prodded Fabian’s cheek.

“If you don’t want to, just say the word. It’s no trouble for me to increase my donation and call for other priests.”

Logan sheathed his sword, mockingly dismissing the trembling Fabian.

“Now, everyone back to your positions! Remember, treating the patients and containing the plague is the quickest way to finish this job! Priests especially, know that sloth will not be tolerated!”

His booming voice echoed through the village.

* * *

“…So that’s what happened.”

Shortly after the incident, Ilia, who had finished healing the patients and recharging her divine power through prayer, was briefed on the complete events by the knights of the temple.

“Are you going to let this stand?”

At the words of Timo, a knight of the temple, Ilia quietly shook her head.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you?”

“Aren’t you saying that what he threatened the priests with was not to slack off?”

“Ah…”

“We came here to aid people in distress. And they accuse us of slacking off… Had I been there, I would not have intervened either.”

Ilia’s face bore the trace of anger as she spoke.

‘A truly virtuous priest.’

Timo realized anew that the bishop he served was indeed a genuine servant of the faith.

Of course, he did not forget to remind her to be extra cautious, considering who they were dealing with.

“But you must remember, the king can see the movement of sacred power.”

“Ah, yes. That is certainly a marvel. It’s something normally invisible to the eye.”

“All the more reason it must be reported to the church. And…”

Timo trailed off hesitantly, prompting Ilia to inquire.

“…And? What is it?”

“I’m not certain but…”

After exchanging glances with his colleague Russell, Russell stepped forward.

“The aura the king displayed… it’s been seen severing the flesh of a priest without inflicting a wound multiple times. If my memory serves, that’s a skill known as…”

An aura capable of contact with a person’s body without causing injury indicated perfect control over one’s aura, suggesting:

“…a mid-level Aura user or higher could achieve such a feat.”

“Eh? But I heard he awakened as a superhuman last year?”

“That’s correct. Which is why it’s even more astounding.”

“Ah…”

As Ilia and the temple knights pondered the ever-growing presence of Logan McLain, Henderson watched with approval from a tent on the other side of the village.

“Your Majesty is, indeed, remarkable.”

Seeing the priests now bustling about energetically, he couldn’t help but be amazed at the ingenious way his sovereign had handled the arrogant clerics.

But.

“Phew, that’s a relief. Really, why can’t they listen to reason?”

The commanding presence shown in the confrontation with the priests had vanished, as the sovereign let out a sigh of relief.

“…Your, Your Majesty?”

“Ten million gold… even if I wanted to eat and drop dead right now, I don’t have that. Thankfully, that fellow was a coward. Phew.”

Logan marveled at the confounding sensation that the assurance provided by his six pulsating Post Cores paled in comparison to the pressure of financial constraints.

“Henderson, have you ever heard of a windfall coming my way?”

“…”

Henderson silently vowed to take what he had just heard to the grave.

* * *

Three days after Logan and the relief team arrived in Raftan.

Thanks to the shaken-up priests, no new deaths occurred among the gathered patients of Raftan.

However, despite divine interventions, recoveries remained rare, and as new cases were transported to their village from the surrounding areas, the patient count only continued to rise.

“Have you no lead on a cure yet?”

“…I apologize, Your Majesty.”

Guild representative Gilbert bowed once again.

“Based on the villagers’ accounts and initial symptoms, we’re trying to identify a pattern, but aside from prescribing fever reducers, it’s still difficult to find a treatment. Whether that will even be effective is…”

“Doubtful?”

“…Yes.”

At that, Logan’s expression darkened.

The priests were doing their part, even if coerced rather than voluntary.

Now it was up to the healers to meet expectations.

“So, no progress at all? After all this time?”

“No, that’s not true.”

“Then explain.”

“We don’t have any confirmed facts about the plague. However, after gathering information on past plagues with similar symptoms, particularly the Restaboom…”

Gilbert’s response seemed to lengthen, causing Logan’s brows to furrow.

“Simply.”

“…The Restaboom typically had a latency period of over a week following exposure. One would be asymptomatic until then.”

“No symptoms?”

“Yes. Diseases have what is called an incubation period. It’s common in ailments like the cold…”

“Keep it simple!”

“…There’s a period where you carry the disease without showing symptoms. With Restaboom, it lasted a week.”

“This is different then.”

“Yes. It’s estimated at about three days.”

“Three days? That much more dangerous, then.”

“Ah, not necessarily.”

“Not?”

“A short incubation period means symptoms surface sooner after infection. Urgent for those affected, but from an epidemiological standpoint, it implies the spread can be more easily contained if managed well.”

“That’s complicated.”

“A simpler explanation might be…”

“No, that will do. What’s the plan then?”

“Anyone who has had contact with a patient within three days should be considered a potential new case, and quarantined similarly. Doing so could quickly halt the spread.”

Gilbert’s explanation held solid logic.

Yet the first response was a cold sneer.

“Typical charlatans…”

From within the tent, among the priests regaining their divine power through prayer, a voice laced with mockery sounded.

“Fabian!”

Bishop Ilia moved to quiet him but…

“Do they still spout this nonsense about incubation periods? Disease is a lofty trial set by God, not a cowardly ambush lurking in the shadows!”

Fabian’s loud protests were met with immediate rebuttal from Gilbert.

“The phenomenon is real. Before becoming a priest, you must have had a cold. In such cases, too…”

“Priests don’t get colds.”

“Wait…”

As Gilbert stared incredulously, Ilia intervened.

“Brother Fabian. These are our colleagues, come to help the people. Please refrain from senseless disputes.”

Though Fabian clicked his tongue and withdrew, he was technically a priest of Aion, god of water and agriculture, so Ilia, of a different sect, could not overstep her authority in commanding him post-directive.

Ilia sighed and turned back to Gilbert.

“Please continue. Apologies for the interruption. We priests will continue with our healing, so be sure to find another method before we reach our limit.”

Ilia’s message prompted visible discontent from several priests, but none vocalized their thoughts like Fabian.

Witnessing this, Gilbert sighed softly, continuing his point.

“As for those already claimed by the plague…”

“Hm?”

“Their bodies shouldn’t be buried; they should be burned.”

At these words, the tent’s attention refocused on Gilbert.

“And why is that necessary?”

“The Healer’s Guild shares and collaborates with global data. We’ve identified a cause for sudden and strange ailments: ‘microorganisms.’ We suspect these microorganisms are most easily spread from the source, the body of the deceased.”

‘Ah…!’

While some grimaced at the notion, Logan recalled a memory that came to mind upon hearing that explanation.

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