"That's great! There's a sermon next week. If you're interested, could you take me with you?"
The young girl blinked, her face full of anticipation.
Exhausted from being tormented by Sellen all day long, Thorne had no time to listen to some charlatan's lecture.
Just as he was thinking about how to refuse, the innkeeper's voice rang out. "Tina, don't disturb Lord Roland while he's eating. Can't you see he's busy!"
"Coming, coming!" The young girl stuck out her tongue and walked away with a light step.
Thorne shook his head as he watched her leave.
He wasn't arrogant, nor did he view these ordinary people as mere ants; generally speaking, he was quite good-natured.
He picked up another piece of crab meat and put it in his mouth.
Just as he was savoring the wonderful taste, he suddenly heard a scream from outside the window. "Murder!"
"Quick, go get the soldiers! Carlo is having an episode!"
Thorne turned his head sharply and saw a gaunt, emaciated middle-aged man slashing at anyone he saw, even tearing at a woman's throat with his teeth, just like a rabid dog that had lost its mind.
This is...
Thorne stood up, clearly seeing the golden light of grace flickering in those bloodshot eyes, and he instantly had the answer. Dementia!
Chapter 25: Shabriri?
The stationed Cuckoo Soldiers arrived quickly, pinning the emaciated madman to the ground with their long spears.
Before they could even catch their breath, screams came from nearby again.
Another madman smashed through a window and rushed out, holding an oil lamp in his hand, throwing it around while letting out unintelligible roars. The house was set on fire.
The Cuckoo Soldiers, having recovered their senses, killed him as well, and then roared at the people around them:
"What are you standing there for? Put out the fire!"
The crowd snapped out of their daze and hurriedly grabbed pots, bowls, and basins to fetch water from the lake.
After a while, it was finally quelled.
Aside from the tearful homeowner and the soldiers looking at each other in dismay, all that remained were several mangled corpses on the ground and the smoldering house.
Thorne sat motionless in the shop, taking in the whole farce while listening to the patrons chatting.
"This is the second time there's been trouble in ten days, right?"
"Yeah, the Perfumer we hired didn't do anything, and when we asked the priest, he couldn't answer either."
"There's a war going on outside, and more and more people are getting sick. How are we supposed to live in these times?"
... Thorne had always had a doubt: the people were very fragile, yet also very resilient, like wild grass, always striving to recover their lives after a war. The Shattering had indeed spread across the entire The Lands Between, but the demigods weren't stupid.
If they drove everyone away, who would they collect taxes from, and where would they conscript soldiers? With the war over, The Lands Between should have long since returned to prosperity. Yet what that Tarnished saw was only ruins everywhere, people emaciated to the point of deformity, with hardly anyone able to speak properly. This was by no means a tragedy caused by war alone. Seeing this farce, he finally understood. Only by stripping away the concept of 'normal people' would the world appear doomed.
Two madmen caused this much trouble; if there were two hundred or two thousand, this small town would probably have turned directly into ruins. By the time the Tarnished arrived, wouldn't there be nothing left but broken walls and ruins?
"Is it grace, or is it a curse?" Thorne touched his own eyes. Actually, this was normal; people traveled all the way to The Lands Between and fought countless wars just to bestow grace upon others? How could that be! Thorne even felt that the golden order removing 'Death' definitely had problems, it just hadn't shown before.
As for why these problems were manifesting now—
"Is it an aftereffect of the elden ring shattering?" He made a guess and, incidentally, included dementia in his scope of investigation. The reason was simple: this body also had grace, and Thorne didn't want to inexplicably become senile. He placed a few runes on the table, put on his hood, and left the small shop, directly catching up to those Cuckoo Soldiers.
The latter saw a sorcerer following them and exchanged glances, and the leading squad leader hurried up to meet him. "My lord, is there something you need from us?"
The squad leader was very polite; after all, the Academy was still their employer. "How much do you know about that dementia? Tell me all the information." Thorne asked in an arrogant tone, pulling out paper and pen. The squad leader was clearly stunned for a moment, thinking to himself how these reclusive nerds who buried themselves in research had suddenly started caring about people's livelihoods. Fortunately, sorcerers were scholars by nature, so he didn't think too much of it. "Dementia appeared in the town a long time ago, but it has been getting more frequent recently.
We've probably dealt with ten people, all of whom suddenly went mad."
Randomness. Thorne nodded and asked again: "Has it appeared in the army?"
"Not yet, but some brothers say their memory isn't very good. The knights, however, haven't felt anything." The disease depends on the strength of the individual. Thorne wrote down another note and asked again: "What about the symptoms? Are they all aggressive?"
"Not necessarily. For example, there are a few people on the North Street who are sick but don't do anything, so we haven't bothered with them, just having their families report on time."
We've probably dealt with ten people, all of whom suddenly went mad."
"Are there differences in symptoms?"
"Take me to see them."
The few soldiers didn't mind and immediately led Thorne to the north. That was the town's ferry, where pedestrians were more dense.
The group walked through the streets and alleys until they arrived in front of a wooden shed. The residents here were mostly ferry laborers, with trash visible everywhere, and the air was filled with a sour, foul smell. An ordinary sorcerer would have turned back by now, but unexpectedly, Thorne didn't care at all.
If it weren't for the fact that he was wearing his hood, this detail would have made people suspicious. His identity was too perfect; the soldiers had absolutely no suspicions.
Thorne looked around and found that every door in the alley was tightly closed, and it was hard to see a single person, but he did see a bald man placing some bread in front of a door, and he was suddenly taken aback. He had seen that man before; he was the apprentice who had served him dishes at the welcoming party.
The other party also saw Thorne and stood there in astonishment, somewhat at a loss.
"My lord? Should we grab that guy and interrogate him?" The Cuckoo squad leader also saw the sneaky bald man. Since the latter wasn't wearing sorcerer robes, he immediately became fierce.
"No need, don't waste time." Thorne nodded slightly as a greeting and stepped into the wooden shed first.
The room was even smellier, filled with picked-up jars and leftover food scraps. The squad leader looked around and immediately cursed loudly. "That stinking woman really ran off. Wasn't she supposed to watch him?"
Thorne had no time to deal with these domestic trifles. He walked to the bed and saw a man lying on it. He had not an ounce of fat, was as thin as dried firewood, and looked somewhat deformed.
Thorne kicked the bed, and the man opened his eyes like a conditioned reflex. The golden grace in his eyes was still there, but his pupils were dull, without a glimmer of intelligence. The symptoms were somewhat like dementia.
Just as he was thinking this, he saw the man, who looked like a living corpse, sit up. The soldiers hurriedly gripped their sword hilts, but the man seemed not to see them.
He ran to the water jar, drank a mouthful of already foul-smelling water, and then wobbled back to bed, continuing to stare at the ceiling with his dull eyes. Thorne didn't move a step. A chill shot straight to the top of his head. He finally knew what term was the most appropriate to describe it.
Walking dead. Apart from some instincts, this man could no longer be considered a 'human'. He had no consciousness, only maintaining life without ceasing. One must know that under grace, the golden people would not get sick, nor would they die of old age.
This walking dead would remain here forever, unless the dilapidated wooden shed collapsed and smashed him into a pulp. The room was terrifyingly quiet. Even a battlefield, with blood and flesh flying, would be more pleasant than watching a walking dead. The squad leader swallowed his saliva and walked quietly to Thorne's side.
"My lord, do you have a solution?"
"No," Thorne answered decisively. He wasn't Marika, after all.
"Then why the hell did you come here?" The squad leader was speechless.
The room was really too smelly, so he performed a chest-thumping salute. "We still have patrol duties. You can take your time looking." Saying this, he waved his hand and led his brothers away, leaving the strange sorcerer in the room. Thorne didn't pay them any mind; he had already fallen into deep thought. Having studied with Sellen for a period of time, his combat power was one thing, but his analytical ability had improved significantly. After hesitating for a moment, he shoved his staff into the man's face.
The light illuminated that twisted face, and then a Glintstone Pebble relieved him of his eternal suffering. Killing him outright, Thorne closed his eyes, carefully feeling the energy plundered by the Dragon's heritage. After a few seconds, he slowly opened them. "Not even as good as a hound; it can be ignored." Thorne hadn't leveled up much yet. When he had free time, he had tried it on hounds and even crabs, and there would be a tiny bit of replenishment. Yet, the person in front of him was clearly a human, but so weak that Thorne could barely feel it if he didn't focus carefully.
Only he could conduct this kind of experiment. It was known that the Dragon's heritage plundered vitality and soul, so why was a human with grace worse than a dog? "Rather than a physical ailment, does the root cause come from the soul? It's as if it was drained in advance, leaving only a weak thread to maintain 'immortality'," Thorne mimicked Sellen's manner, pinching his chin, pondering the essence of 'dementia'. This was the true catastrophe, destroying The Lands Between from the root. So, was it the Erdtree's doing?
Combining memories from both his past and present lives, he felt it was, and it was likely related to The Shattering of the elden ring. After all, there wasn't a single word about 'dementia' in the "Golden Age", proving there were no cases before the elden ring shattered. Practicing medicine couldn't save The Lands Between. No wonder the Erdtree was willing to abandon all the demigods to repair the elden ring; if it continued to spread, how could the Erdtree sustainably drain the pond dry? Just as he was thinking this, he suddenly gripped his staff and turned to point at the door: "Who!?"
The open wooden door creaked in the breeze. A figure emerged, spectral in a priest's robe, a bamboo hat obscuring his face.
"I didn't expect a sorcerer to care about dementia. It was right to relieve him of his pain. It was destined to be futile, just like how even the most solid order will collapse."
A low male voice spoke. The priest paused at the door, gently holding his bamboo hat.
"Who are you? What do you want with me?"
Thorne turned, fixing his gaze on the newcomer. He felt an eerie power emanating from the man, like a flower in a mirror or the moon in the water—visible, yet untouchable.
"Because you want to explore the truth." The man bowed slightly, performing a salute. "My name is Shabriri. Are you interested in learning about a brand-new faith?"
Chapter 26: Well, made another enemy.
Except for the dripping of blood from the corpse on the bed, the room was terrifyingly quiet. Beneath his Glintstone hood, Thorne's expression was a study in contrasts. Shabriri?
This was a major player, a figure associated with a cataclysmic ending. The Frenzied Flame would burn the Erdtree, consuming all living things in The Lands Between, purifying everything, and leaving only frenzied chaos. No more gods, no more kings; all life would be one. Why was he here? I haven't even heard of any Frenzied Flame believers anywhere.
Thorne Wright's memory of the Frenzied Flame was blank. Even a fool could see that the Flame, which burned everything and represented chaos, was the complete opposite of the order-seeking Erdtree. If there was even a hint of it, they'd scatter your ashes. Only when the elden ring shattered, the old order collapsed, and the golden heroes killed each other, did these monsters dare to rear their heads. The logic was clear. What confused Thorne was why he had encountered so much trouble just after leaving the fortress.
"Poor man, you are lost." Shabriri's voice was very low, as if filled with bewitching magic. "And you are afraid, afraid that you will become that walking dead."
Thorne put away the confusion in his heart and said coldly, "Since when have you been following me?"
"From the moment you stepped onto the path of exploration, wanting to figure out the truth."
"So the person peeping in the restaurant was you!" Thorne reacted immediately. He had been wondering why there was a gaze staring at him.
"I am everywhere. You are a devout believer, but can you still dare to say that the thing in front of you is a blessing from the Erdtree? That law of 'immortality' only makes pain eternal!"
Seeing Thorne not speaking, Shabriri's voice gradually became high-pitched:
"So you're wavering, questioning, trying to figure out what happened. But it's useless. The order brought by the law is just a shackle; you need to break it."
"By using your faith?" Seeing that Thorne was 'interested', Shabriri opened his arms and spoke eloquently:
"That's right. All things originate from One. From One, distinctions arise, and then life and intelligence are born. All pain, confusion, and fear stem from this. They use bloodlines to distinguish between superior and inferior, use laws to imprison thoughts, and use power to divide the strong and weak. Just like the pitiful people in this slum, grace is just a curse to them. Ruling and being ruled, conquering and being conquered. No matter how brilliant the era, most people live in pain. This is order, this is the law, this is the fate that all things in The Lands Between must follow!"
This crap again. Thorne resisted his impatience and asked, "Then may I ask how to change it?"
"Bring all things into One." Shabriri folded his open arms across his chest, his voice rising and falling: "No one is born into this world voluntarily. Come with me, and together we will melt away all pain, despair, and fear. Break the law, break the shackles, and burn away the imposed order!"
Thorne didn't speak, just watching his performance coldly. To be honest, these theories were quite tempting to people who were lost and afraid, but Shabriri had made one mistake—I am neither lost nor afraid! "Are you done?"
"Just because people have differences in status and life is hard, there should be no hope, so we should just cut off our heads and stop thinking, right?"
"No, it is to abandon the differences between each other, merge into one, and become the closest brothers and sisters."
"So because order is an imposed shackle, you can impose chaos on others?"
"I have no such intention. Whether or not to step onto this path comes from everyone's own choice." Shabriri's voice was calm; he was not afraid of anyone when it came to debating philosophy.
Thorne shook his head, only thinking of that ending where flames burned across the world. Don't tell me that everyone's wishes were asked before burning them. "Bullshit!" He couldn't be bothered to argue, so he directly raised his staff. A Glintstone Arc cut everything in front of him in a fan shape, shooting straight into the street outside, knocking away wooden barrels and scattering foul-smelling trash everywhere. But the priest had already jumped to the opposite roof with eerie speed, still looking at Thorne calmly. "It seems you have made your choice." There was no need to ask.
Not to mention that Thorne didn't agree with this theory in his heart, he also knew deeply that staying with this bastard was dangerous. Any connection to the Frenzied Flame would attract the pursuit of the Erdtree's forces. Bang!