Countless sharp, piercing, and desperate howls, screams, and cries overlapped, pressing in from all directions.
It felt as if ten thousand vengeful spirits were shrieking in unison into Aurelia’s ear.
Mixed within the cacophony were non-human roars and bursts of manic, unrestrained laughter.
A world of overwhelming blood-red, raging fires, and countless living beings dissolving into bloody water turned everything in sight into a crimson hell.
Thick smoke billowed, blotting out the sun, and the air was heavy with a stench of blood so thick it felt stagnant.
Beneath her feet, the ground was cracked into countless fissures.
The Power of Calamity—a force feared by all living things—spiraled around her, manifesting into physical forms that relentlessly slaughtered the humans fighting back with all their might.
With a familiar, angry shout, Aurelia suddenly jolted awake.
The sudden movement pulled at the wound on her neck, sending a jolt of sharp pain through her that nearly made her cry out.
She gasped for breath, her chest feeling as though a giant boulder weighed it down.
Every breath aggravated the injury on her neck.
The dying wails of countless souls from her dream seemed to linger in her ears, along with the non-human shrieks of the Corrupted God’s Artifacts and that skin-crawling, frantic laughter that had belonged to her.
‘What the… it was just a dream… just a dream…’
She told herself this repeatedly, trying to use her real-world senses to dispel the all-too-vivid illusions.
The cold touch of the rough wooden table, the damp smell of mold and cheap grease in the air, the constant throbbing of her wound… these sensations gradually became clear, peeling her away from that hellish dreamscape one layer at a time.
She forced herself to look up.
Though her vision was blurry from her sudden awakening, her first instinct was to check the two beds in the room.
Helen was lying on his side with his back to her. His body rose and fell slightly with his breathing; he seemed to still be asleep.
However, his sleep was fitful.
His brows were furrowed, and he occasionally twitched unconsciously, pulling at the wound on his shoulder and letting out a muffled groan.
Meanwhile, the little priestess still lay quietly on the other bed, unconscious.
Only the slight rise and fall of her chest proved she was still alive.
Good… they were both still there.
They hadn’t been harmed because of her nightmare or the restless old bastard inside her.
The light from the oil lamp was much dimmer than when she had gone to sleep, the wick giving off a faint crackle.
In the silence, only Helen’s occasional gasps and the faint breathing of the three of them could be heard.
Once she confirmed her companions were safe, the lingering dread from the apocalyptic vision and the deep nausea in her soul finally began to recede.
‘Ever since that old bastard became more active, these nightmares have almost stopped. But why…’
Thinking of this, Aurelia realized that since they had been exiled, the old bastard had indeed been quieter.
Especially during that one month on the carriage, it had been as silent as the dead.
“Because I was looking at something more interesting,” the voice of the Disaster Source suddenly rang out deep within Aurelia’s mind.
The voice was no longer that archaic, ancient tone typical of a “grandpa in a ring.”
Instead, it was… more casual, closer to her usual way of thinking.
It even carried a hint of a tone familiar to her original world.
“Didn’t you dislike it when I spoke like that? Then I’ll change it. I’ll use the way you’re most familiar with.”
“You… what did you do this time?!”
“What did I do?”
The Disaster Source chuckled.
The laughter no longer held its previous temptation and arrogance, but was instead filled with a sense of novelty and amusement.
“I didn’t do anything special. It’s just… your soul doesn’t seem to belong to this world. It’s quite interesting. I’ve spent this past month or so just looking through it.”
“It was quite difficult at first,” the Disaster Source continued in a conversational tone, as if sharing an interesting discovery.
“Your language, symbols, concepts, and those… things called technology? Truly novel. And… it seems there’s no such thing as mana there, only the single intelligent race of humans.”
“Enough!”
Aurelia shouted in her mind.
“Where I come from and what I am has nothing to do with you, you old bastard!”
“You are a Disaster, an incarnation of destruction, a cancer upon this world! And right now, I am just Aurelia, a person who wants to survive in this world!”
The Disaster Source fell silent for a few seconds before suddenly laughing.
“Fine, then. I’ll continue to wait and watch your performance. Let’s see when you can no longer hold out and come crawling back to beg me. When that time comes, I won’t be so easy to talk to.”
Then, the voice of the Disaster Source fell completely silent.
Silence returned to the room, but this silence now gave Aurelia an unprecedented sense of unease.
She sat on the dilapidated wooden chair, her spine stiff, trying to draw a sense of reality from the cold touch of the wood.
Before, the old bastard had been aloof, using ancient tones to preach destruction and exert corruption, using nightmares and pain to torture and tempt her.
Its malice was direct, and its goal was clear: to lure her into falling, constantly guiding her with words or even forcefully controlling her to do things.
She could be angry, she could resist, and she could treat it as a pure enemy or a calamity that needed to be fought.
But now… it had changed.
It no longer spoke in that archaic way; it had begun to mimic her, using her most familiar patterns of thought to communicate.
It no longer just preached destruction.
Instead, it was trying to lower her guard from a different angle, becoming… somewhat humanized.
This transformation was more terrifying to Aurelia than any direct threat.
‘This old bastard… can read my memories directly.
Tsk, I need to be careful with every conversation from now on…’
Instead of worrying about the old bastard’s changes right now, Aurelia turned her attention back to changing her bandages.
During this time, the sword wound on her neck had been slow to heal.
Besides her poor recovery rate and weak constitution, it was also related to her suppressing the Power of Calamity, which caused the wound to repeatedly reopen.
She removed the old cloth, cleaned the wound briefly, sprinkled some crushed herbs of Hemostatic Grass on it, and wrapped it with a fresh bandage.
Aurelia let out a long breath.
‘…Staying in pain like this isn’t an option. The Power of Calamity I absorbed from the priestess earlier… No, no, I can’t use it. I need to find a chance to release it; I can’t keep it in my body…’
Then, she looked up at the little priestess lying unconscious on the bed and began to study her closely.
She had only caught a brief glimpse before and thought the girl was rather petite.
But now that she could look calmly, several details she had previously ignored began to surface.
Compared to Aurelia, who was only 1.6 meters tall, this priestess was clearly closer to 1.7 meters.
It was no wonder Helen had looked so strained while carrying her and had to adjust his posture several times.
Though her long brown hair was messy, the quality was excellent.
Even in this dark, filthy environment, it still retained its original soft and smooth texture.
The skin on her neck and wrists, visible outside her ragged priestess robes, was pale and delicate—the kind that rarely saw sun or wind, despite the current dirt.
Her fingers were slender and long, without a single trace of manual labor.
Even the dirt under her fingernails was recently acquired; there was no long-term accumulated grime.
Then, there was the broken wooden Holy Emblem she held tightly, which marked her status as a low-level member of the clergy.
Judging by her general appearance, she was likely one of those church priestesses who only knew simple Divine Arts.
Her raw strength was probably so low that even a Black Iron Rank warrior could send her flying several somersaults with one punch.
Aurelia leaned in closer and heard her faint breathing, which was filled with uncontrollable trembling.
‘Is this little priestess abandoned by the Church? Or did someone intentionally leave her here? What’s the purpose?’
As Aurelia stared at the priestess, lost in thought, a rustling sound came from behind her, followed by a sharply suppressed gasp.
She turned around and saw that Helen had woken up at some point.
He was using his uninjured right hand to try and untie the old cloth strips on his body.
He was leaning sideways, his movements clumsy due to his injuries.
Every time he tried to reach the knot behind his back, his arm would shake with pain from pulling at the wound, forcing him to stop and pant for breath.
Just as he was about to try again, Aurelia’s voice rang out.
“Why are you trying to show off? Why didn’t you just call me?”
Helen was momentarily stunned and gave an embarrassed, bitter smile.
“Ah, Sister Lia, your injury is also…”
“Turn around. I’ll do it.”
He immediately stopped talking, nodded, and turned his back to her.
The bandages that had been quite plentiful were nearly gone after she finished changing Helen’s dressings.
There was barely enough left to wrap a finger.
Just as Aurelia was about to head to the front desk to ask the old man for some drinking water, a faint plea for help caused both Aurelia and Helen to turn back toward the little priestess on the bed.
“Please… save… don’t… abandon…”
The person on the bed was still not fully conscious.
Her eyes were tightly shut, her brow was knotted, and her face was a sickly, pale color.
One of her hands tightly gripped the fabric at her chest, while the other death-gripped the already shattered Holy Emblem.
She was even subconsciously trying to release a Divine Art.
Seeing this, Aurelia immediately stepped forward and pinned the priestess’s hand down, gesturing for Helen not to move.
‘How can this little priestess from the Church be so restless while unconscious?’
Seeing the priestess starting to struggle, Aurelia let out a helpless sigh.
She reached her right hand toward the girl’s forehead and made a very simple, crude decision.
In that instant, her once slender and white right hand was covered in a layer of fine, pitch-black Dragon Scales.
She aimed at the priestess’s forehead, formed an “OK” gesture with her fingers, and then…
“Be quiet for me.”
*Thud!*
A flick to the forehead, carrying a dull resonance, landed solidly on the priestess.
For Aurelia, she had controlled the strength of her dragonified right hand to be extremely light.
But to Helen’s ears, the sound made him take a sharp breath of cold air, feeling a phantom pain in his own forehead.
The little priestess went limp like a deflated balloon and fell completely unconscious, leaving only the sound of her slightly hurried breathing.
Aurelia slowly withdrew her right hand.
The Dragonification effect lasted for less than 1 second before her hand returned to its original pale state.
She looked at the fingertip she had just used to flick the priestess, then at the girl on the bed, whose forehead now had a clearly visible red mark but was finally quiet. Aurelia shook her hand helplessly.
‘I didn’t expect the priestess’s forehead to be so hard; it’s actually surprisingly tough. Ow… my finger actually hurts.’
The effect was immediate.
Although the method was a bit simple and crude, at least it had quieted her down.
“…”
Helen opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something.
But after looking at Sister Lia and then at the distinct red mark on the priestess’s forehead, he didn’t dare utter a word.
‘Sister Lia’s way of solving problems is truly… unique.’