Patricia POV
The salt air of Lulu City hit my nose first… a sharp, familiar scent of sea brine, drying nets, and fried fish that carried me back years.
I took a slow, heavy step down the busy cobblestone street, holding Catherine tighter against my shoulder. She was still completely unconscious, her breathing shallow and steady against my neck. I couldn't help but stare down at her pale face for a second.
What in the world did Edrie Collon do to you? And who really are you, Catherine?
She was a mystery, wrapped in a nightmare, but right now, my primary concern was keeping us all alive and hidden.
My mind drifted back to the streets of this coastal hub. Long before I became a royal guard or crossed paths with Elias, I had washed ashore right here on these docks, soaked, terrified, and starving. A kind-hearted fisherman… a man whose name I never even learned… had found me, fed me warm fish broth, and personally guided me all the way to Caria to make sure I found a safe orphanage.
Lulu City had always held a small, warm place in my memory because of him.
But the warmth in my chest vanished the moment I remembered the sickening squelch of Eirene's arm.
My fingers tightened around the hilt of my rapier. The horror of that moment was still fresh behind my eyes… Eirene looking me dead in the eye, ordering me to sever her arm without a single tremor in her voice, and me swinging the blade to hack through her flesh and bone.
The sight of her mangled limb falling to the dirt was grotesque, enough to turn anyone's stomach.
Yet, Eirene hadn't even flinched. Not a scream. Not a tear. Just cold, absolute, terrifying resolve to sever the infection before it reached her heart.
I couldn't fathom that level of resilience. When I first met her, I knew her as the legendary phantom… the very first S-rank bounty hunter in all of Andromeda, the absolute apex predator who had single-handedly dismantled four legendary S-rank targets.
Her total, unyielding pragmatism made sense for someone who lived in the bloody underbelly of the world, where sacrifice was just a daily operational cost.
And yet... she was also Elias's youngest sister.
During our long, quiet nights around the campfire on past adventures, Elias used to boast endlessly about his family.
He talked about his middle sister, Elicia, who was a gentle, brilliant healer.
But when he talked about his little sister, Eirene, his voice always softened. He described her as a sweet, naive girl with an innocent face… a delicate young appraiser who had known nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and quiet books her entire life.
It was almost absurdly ironic. If Elias could see her now… a hardened, blood-soaked S-rank bounty hunter who sacrificed her own arm without blinking… he wouldn't even recognize her.
Even when we first met at Rebelbub Village, Eirene was already a walking contradiction. She was entirely human back then, displaying incredible swordsmanship and an terrifying mastery over blood manipulation.
But now? Somehow, along the line, she had transformed into a true vampire, hiding from the morning sun beneath a thick canvas cloak.
She had reunited with Elias, borne his child, and become a mother... yet she still carried the lethal, icy edge of the continent's most feared bounty hunter.
Half the time, my mind struggled to reconcile the gentle little sister Elias talked about with the crimson-eyed monster slayer walking beside me.
How did you become all of this, Eirene? What kind of hell did you walk through?
I shook the heavy thoughts from my head as I rounded the corner into the high-traffic commercial district. The noise of shouting merchants, rich tourists, and clattering carriage wheels filled the air.
Rising ahead of us was a large, polished wood-and-stone building with a painted wooden sign swaying in the coastal breeze: The Golden Shrimp Inn.
It was a corporate-style, thoroughly average establishment… clean, functional, and utterly lacking in charm or privacy, designed specifically to cater to wealthy traveling merchants and high-end tourists.
I remembered Eirene mentioning this place; it was the exact base of operations she had used a year ago when she was preparing her crazy scheme to infiltrate the Dodorant Citadel.
At ten silver coins a day for a standard room, it was a ridiculous money sink, but right now, it was the only reliable roof over our heads.
Holding Catherine securely, I took a breath and pushed open the front doors of the inn, completely unaware of the biological nightmare that was about to shatter the city outside.
I pushed through the double doors of the Golden Shrimp Inn, and the heavy atmosphere inside immediately hit me. The air was a warm, suffocating mix of cheap, lingering alcohol and the fresh, rich scent of morning stews baked to savory perfection.
Normally, that warm smell would have made my stomach rumble, but after watching Eirene hack her own arm off in cold blood, my stomach just churned with nausea. I couldn't even stand the thought of touching a piece of bread right now.
Holding the unconscious Catherine firmly against my side, I navigated through the busy ground floor toward the reception counter. I reached into my pouch, my fingers closing around the cold silver coins Eirene had handed me before we split up.
I fell into the short queue, trying to keep my head down and mind my own business, but the conversation from the two degenerate losers standing right in front of me made my eye twitch.
"Hey, no judgment, man... but how do you guys only last under an hour during sex?" one of them asked, leaning against the counter with a greasy smirk.
The second guy snorted, taking a swig from a wooden tankard.
"It goes a hell of a lot quicker when you're actually doing it with a real woman, mate."
I froze. The pure, unadulterated audacity to loudly blabber such crude filth right in public… with a young girl carrying a knocked-out companion standing directly behind them… pushed my patience straight over the edge.
"Hey, you absolute assholes! There's a lady standing right behind you. Keep your disgusting mouths shut!"
The two men spun around, their smug faces twisting in annoyance. But the moment their eyes landed on my crisp white armor, my polished rapier, and the severe look in my eyes, their expressions visibly soured.
"Huh? A paladin? Bug off, bitch."
Rather than starting a brawl with an armed knight, the two degenerates grumbled under their breaths, snatched their drinks, and slunk off into the crowded tavern corner without another word.
I took a sharp breath, smoothed down my tabard, and stepped up to the wooden counter. The barkeep… a burly, tired-looking man wiping down a mug with a damp rag… didn't even bat an eye at the confrontation.
"Welcome to the Golden Shrimp, Just a room, or are you staying for breakfast?"
"Just a room. For two days," I said flatly, sliding twenty silver coins across the smooth wood.
The barkeep counted the silver with a practiced sweep of his thumb, swept the coins into a drawer under the counter, and reached up to grab a heavy brass key hung from a board.
"Room 104. Top of the stairs, second door on the left, hot water's an extra silver, brought up by the boy if you need it."
"This is fine. Thank you," I replied, taking the cool brass key in my hand.
Without wasting another second, I adjusted my grip on Catherine, turned away from the noisy tavern floor, and made a straight line for the staircase, eager to lock us behind a solid door before whatever chaos Eirene was dealing with at the Town Hall spilled over into the streets.
I carefully laid Catherine onto one of the two neatly made beds in Room 104. The space was surprisingly pristine… crisp white sheets, dusted nightstands, and a small wooden desk.
I crossed the room and cracked open the thick curtains, peering nervously down into the bustling commercial district below, praying to whatever gods were listening that Eirene's grim warnings were just a worst-case scenario.
Catherine and I had been through hell and back together. In Elias's party, she was our brilliant, reliable grand mage, but to me, she was one of the few true friends I had ever made since my world shattered as a child.
Ever since the Furry Tailed Pirates slaughtered my tribe and I washed up on these very shores years ago, I had spent most of my life fundamentally alone… hiding my gill slits beneath high collars, pretending to be just another human paladin named Patricia Barbon. Having Catherine beside me always made the heavy weight of that secret a little easier to bear.
Outside the glass, a street crier's panicked voice cut through the noise of the market traffic:
"Order of the Governor! Avoid all local grain supplies! Do not consume or purchase raw or baked wheat! The city grain reserves are contaminated!"
A wave of relief washed over me. Eirene did it. She actually managed to get through to the officials and trigger an emergency announcement. If they quarantined the food supply, maybe… just maybe… Edrie's demonic plague would die in its cradle before it could claim a single life.
I turned back toward the bed, letting out a long, shuddering breath, and my heart nearly skipped a beat.
Catherine's slender fingers were twitching against the blanket. Her eyelids fluttered, a soft, groggy groan escaping her lips as her consciousness slowly fought its way back to the surface.
"Catherine! Hold on, don't move yet! I'm getting you some food!"
I bolted out of Room 104 and sprinted down the wooden staircase three steps at a time. I needed clear water and a bowl of hot meat stew… absolutely no grain, no bread, just pure broth to help her regain her strength after whatever dark ritual Edrie had put her through.
I reached the bottom of the stairs, my hand raised to flag down the barkeep, when a violent, frantic pounding rattled the heavy front doors of the inn.
THAM-THAM-THAM!
Because the ground floor of the Golden Shrimp Inn was built like a fortress with thick stone walls and virtually no street-level windows, no one inside could see who was outside. A rowdy, half-naked drunkard near the entrance grumbled, sloshing his tankard as he stumbled over and unlatched the heavy iron bolt.
"Hold your horses, you loud bastard… "
The door swung open, and the entire tavern went dead silent.
Staggering across the threshold was Keith Pat… a veteran gatekeeper of the city guard whom I recognized earlier. His silver armor was dented, covered in thick, dark burgundy fluid, and his hand trembled violently around the grip of a notched, bloody steel sword. He was gasping for air, his eyes wide, bloodshot, and dilated with raw, unadulterated terror.
"Hey! Watch where you're bleeding, you lunatic!" the drunkard spat, stepping back with a scowl.
"Shut up! Shut the door! Listen to me! All of you, listen! DO NOT GO OUTSIDE! They're... they aren't human anymore! There are monsters in the streets…!"
Before anyone in the tavern could laugh him off, the street crier's megaphoned announcement outside suddenly abruptly cut off mid-sentence with a sickening, wet crunch.
A heartbeat later, the absolute hellscape outside breached the silence.
Piercing, agonizing shrieks filled the avenue. The horrific sounds of breaking bone, tearing muscle, and heavy, frantic footsteps echoed right outside the inn's thick wooden doors. Through the crack of the entrance, the stench of fresh, copper-heavy blood drifted in, thick enough to choke on.
The announcement was too late. The virus had already taken hold.