When Duanmu Huai returned to the Inquisition's outpost on the planet, the place had completely changed.
The fortress occupied by the Astral Army hadn't altered much structurally, but they'd added a new power reactor beneath it—naturally, under the Inquisition's "waste nothing" principle, that same reactor could easily be converted into a massive bomb capable of vaporizing everything in the area.
Around the fortress now stretched a thriving town.
It had once been an abandoned settlement. The vagrants and prisoners rescued from the orcs by the Astral Army became its first residents, repairing power lines and restoring light to the darkened streets. Over time, the town had grown more prosperous. They used the same currency system common among vagrants for trade—but, of course, all the land technically belonged to the Inquisition. Anyone wishing to live there had to pass Astral Army screening, and any disputes were to be judged by the Inquisition.
Armed Astral troopers patrolled the streets, but despite the military presence, life in the town was fairly stable.
At least, for now.
Upon his arrival, Duanmu Huai immediately gathered several influential locals—merchants, doctors, and warriors—to question them about the rumors.
From their accounts, he pieced together what was happening.
"So, this strange plague—you're saying it appeared suddenly? There was nothing like it before?"
The vagrants all shook their heads.
"None, my lord. Not even a year ago, we'd never seen any illness like this…"
At that, a merchant raised his hand.
"My lord, many people believe this is the orcs' doing. Since they've been losing battle after battle, they must have realized they can't beat humans head-on—so they turned to poison, releasing this new kind of plague. No one's ever seen anything like it before…"
"No."
Another man suddenly spoke up.
"I think I've seen something like it before."
"Oh?"
Duanmu Huai turned toward him with interest. He recognized the man—one of the soldiers rescued from an orc nest.
"You've seen it?"
"Yes. When I was captured by those damned orcs and being transported away, I saw another group of orcs attack them. Those ones were glowing—whole bodies shining with a strange light, and their eyes were glowing too. I thought it was some kind of new orc strain…"
"I knew it!"
The others erupted immediately.
"I told you—it's got to be those damned orcs!"
"They did this!"
"Enough! Silence!"
Duanmu Huai's cold bark shut them up at once. He frowned, staring into the air—because before him, a system prompt had appeared.
[Hidden Quest Available — Survival and Destruction]
A strange plague is spreading across the planet, threatening all life. Investigate and eradicate it completely.
Objective: Eliminate the plague.
Failure Condition: Entire planet infected.
So serious?
If he'd had doubts before, they were gone now. This was worse than he'd thought. If the infection truly spread across the whole planet, the only remaining option would be an Exterminatus order. Which meant this plague might be capable of infecting every living organism on the planet.
He had to find out what the hell this was.
"I see."
After a moment of thought, Duanmu Huai issued his commands.
"I'll send a squad of Astral troopers to trace the source of the plague. You people should also gather intelligence—ask around among the vagrants, collect every rumor or scrap of information you can find, and report it all. Also, from today onward, set up a quarantine checkpoint at the town's entrance. No one enters without inspection. And one more thing—conduct full medical screenings on all current residents."
"But, my lord…"
The town's doctor raised his hand nervously.
"We don't have enough personnel…"
"Oh, that's not a problem. I'll give you a holy icon. Set it up in the clinic and the quarantine area. Anyone who's sick can go there to pray."
"Uh… what good will that do?"
"It'll probably heal them."
"…Huh?"
If Duanmu Huai didn't look so terrifying, the doctor would have blurted out Are you joking? Pray to a statue and get better? Then what did they need doctors for?
Seeing the man's bewildered look, Duanmu Huai could only shrug. In most technological worlds, people naturally found this kind of thing ridiculous—but what could he say? This world actually had gods.
"Think of it as a bit of mental comfort. It's free anyway—might as well have some faith."
"Er… alright, my lord. I understand."
The doctor didn't really get it, but he knew enough about Inquisition faith not to argue. Around here, everyone knew: belief in the Inquisition wasn't optional. Still, their doctrines weren't exactly oppressive—protecting humanity and eradicating threats to mankind was hardly controversial. And if it boosted morale, why not?
But when the statue actually arrived, the doctor started regretting everything.
"…This thing… really isn't a problem?"
He stared blankly at the "holy icon" that the Astral troopers delivered.
It stood on a heavy iron base. Rising from it was a gigantic warhammer, its head resting on the ground and its haft standing tall, marked with three horizontal bars and crowned by a human skull emblem.
The sacred icon of the Inquisition.
Why a skull, though?!
The doctor sighed. He'd already noticed that the Inquisition's people were obsessed with skulls—everywhere. The Astral troopers, their commanders, even the fortress walls were plastered with them.
When he'd asked why, the answer was: "An unmutated human skull represents the sanctity, purity, and essence of mankind. It symbolizes the cause of fighting for humanity."
Sure, maybe that made sense philosophically—but the aesthetic screamed evil villain base.
He'd half expected a statue of a beautiful saint or a cross or something. But this? Was this thing supposed to comfort patients?
If anything, it looked like something you'd find in a morgue.
Someone with heart trouble might drop dead on sight!
"Doctor, what is this thing?"
The nurse came over, puzzled by the statue.
"Uh… the Inquisition sent it. Supposed to help patients stay calm…"
"…Calm? More like scare them stiff."
"Don't ask. Not our business."
The doctor sighed. Around here, the Inquisition and Astral Army ruled with an iron fist. Their word was law. They weren't like the weak COG governments—anyone who'd tried to stir up rebellion had ended up hanging from the gates as a warning.
The Inquisition didn't negotiate, and they didn't take threats.
Still, for ordinary vagrants, life wasn't bad. The Astral troopers didn't harass civilians or extort them. As long as you didn't break the law, they left you alone.
So a bit of idle gossip like the nurse's wasn't dangerous—but out of politeness, the doctor hushed her.
They were, after all, on Inquisition turf.
Soon the clinic opened for the day, and the doctor returned to his office.
He hated this job for one main reason—a lack of medicine.
Yes, medicine.
For wounds and injuries, he could manage. But diseases requiring medication were a nightmare. The Inquisition imported some potions from Manaria, but those were mostly antiseptics, painkillers, and disinfectants. For chronic illnesses, they did little.
So more often than not, even with a diagnosis, there was nothing he could do. The pharmaceutical companies were all gone—blown to dust.
Still, the sick had to be seen.
"Huff… huff…"
The bell rang as an old man stepped into the clinic—one of the doctor's regulars. The old soldier wheezed like a broken bellows; the sound alone was enough for the doctor to recognize him.
"Uncle Hank, you're here again?"
"Yeah, doc… huff… got any better medicine…?"
"Sorry. I really don't have anything effective right now."
The old man's lungs were badly infected. In better times, strong antibiotics might have helped—but those were rarer than gold now. The doctor could only write prescriptions. All actual medicine was locked away by the Astral Army.
"I see… sigh… oh, what's that strange thing outside?"
"Oh, that's the Inquisition's holy icon. If you want, Uncle Hank, you can pray to it. Might make you feel better."
"Heh… alright then. I'll give it a try."
Chuckling softly, the old man shuffled out. The doctor shook his head and moved on to his next patient.
Outside, Hank stood before the statue, gazing at it for a long moment. Then he pressed his hands together and closed his eyes.
He didn't really believe prayer could heal, but he was grateful to the Inquisition. Most vagrant tribes refused to take in the elderly—anyone too old to work was cast out. The Inquisition, however, not only allowed the elderly to live within their territory but had even built special housing for them and provided three free meals a day.
That was more than enough to earn his gratitude.
"Thanks… old man like me doesn't have much to offer… maybe in the next life I can repay the Inquisition's kindness…"
Murmuring softly, he prayed.
Then, suddenly, he felt something.
A cool, soothing sensation rose from deep within him, spreading through his limbs like spring water. His foggy mind cleared, his body felt light—his lungs no longer burned.
"Ahh…"
He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled. Then he turned and started walking away—only to stop mid-step.
Frowning, he placed a hand on his chest.
His eyes widened.
A moment later, the old man whirled around and bolted back inside.
"Doctor! Doctor!!"
"Whoa—what's wrong, Uncle Hank?"
The doctor nearly jumped as the old man burst through the door, face flushed and eyes shining.
"I'm cured!"
"…What?"
"My illness! It's gone! Look! I'm fine!"
The old man's excitement left everyone dumbfounded. The doctor and nurse exchanged stunned glances. Hank, who usually wheezed after two words, was standing tall, breathing easy, brimming with energy.
"What in the world…?"
The doctor was speechless.
"You said it yourself, Doc! You told me to pray to that statue—so I did! And now I'm cured!"
"…Huh?!"
The doctor stood frozen, utterly dumbfounded.
(End of Chapter)