Chapter 38

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Chapter 38: Too Bad

If the residents in the low-lying area had eyes like Samuel’s, they surely wouldn’t have slept so soundly that day.

The first heavy rain stirred the remaining parts of Angaso Forest into a mess, the rainwater filled in the trenches left by the army. The second rain was less intense but lasted longer, raining all day long, the newborn streams flowed freely carrying debris. At that time, the nearby farmers were quite happy, as it hadn’t been raining much recently, so they could go without irrigation for a few days after the next rain.

Of course, there were farmers around Angaso, small villages scattered around, and Deer Horn Town itself was a small town formed by the integration of several developing villages. Their fields were just outside the town, having made achievements in farming civilization over several centuries, not only self-sufficient but also meeting the needs of a part of the nearby county (which was Red Gum County). Therefore, despite the private curses of nearby hunters and woodcutters after the prohibition on going to Angaso Forest was issued, with the military subsidies and the supply of agricultural products from surrounding people, they managed to get by.

These farmers soon discovered a problem.

The plants soaked by the rainwater didn’t look fresh like watering, quite the opposite, almost all the green was washed away by the flowing water. They helplessly watched as the dripping vegetable leaves wilted down, turning a dry yellow. Even the most experienced farmers couldn’t tell what disease they had. They reluctantly cut off the problematic branches and leaves and fed them to their cattle and sheep, but even the least picky animals refused to eat, some even kicked their hooves in refusal.

Soon, it wasn’t just a matter of one or two unlucky farmers anymore, with the rainfall continuing, the wilting spread slowly, not just in the fields, but also in the wild grass on the ground, shepherds began to worry about the thinness of the sheep. Farmers piled up soil and dug trenches to prevent flooding, but it was no use, the streams from Angaso Forest had already seeped into the soil. Seeing the worsening situation of the farmland day by day, the imminent autumn harvest going down the drain, panic spread among the farmers, some hunters started taking precautions, planning to defy the order and go to the forest to find food supplies. They sneaked into Angaso Forest, only to be scared stiff by the vast emptiness before them.

Before the heavy rain fell, the withered Angaso Forest still stood in place, like a corpse in formal attire sitting upright. Those who were unwilling to accept the prohibition peered from a distance, thinking the trees seemed a bit dry, unable to tell what had happened. But now, with heavy rain and continuous drizzle, like a hammer hitting a termite-riddled dam, the forest’s remains collapsed. The shocked hunters stood there, stepping on the bare ground, looking at the place that was once a forest turned into an endless black ruin.

When they returned, rumors spread like wildfire among the residents.

What happened? Why did the forest change like this? Will our place also slowly turn like this? What about the autumn harvest? What about the food? Can we still live in this place?

The people of Deer Horn Town knew the most, but that didn’t make them calmer. Instead, it led to more terrible rumors. They saw dried corpses and skeletons coming out of the cemetery outside the town, witnessed the dead fighting the living on the streets, and even saw some people turning into zombies. These frightened people, already on edge, now faced these unsettling changes that made them as nervous as scared sparrows.

They said there was a Necromancer controlling the bodies in the graveyard. The army didn’t acknowledge his existence, and that’s why they couldn’t destroy him. Catching a strange-looking Abyssal Descendant used to create a buzz for months, so silence was definitely not good. They said the defeated Necromancer was about to return, and the withered fields were a sign of his return. It was rumored that eating the withered crops would turn people into zombies! Terrified people even burned their fields, livestock that recently got sick or ate crops, as if they would turn into zombie potatoes or zombie sheep. If Captain’s army didn’t arrive soon, they might have resorted to harming the recently sick people.

Captain Halite was in a panic.

Some time ago, to boost morale and calm the residents, he held a banquet to celebrate the recovered soldiers, showing that the "Wither Disease" was not incurable. But now, the panicked residents who only half-understood the situation all flocked to where the soldiers were staying, scaring the soldiers into thinking they were under attack, the officers fearing mutiny, and Halite fearing that the truth of the treaty with the foreign tribes would be exposed, causing a rebellion… Thankfully, this farce miraculously had no casualties, only some bumped heads and broken arms and legs.

He reluctantly calmed down the people around him, organized the army, and quickly went to the fields near Deer Horn Town. The situation was as bad as he had expected. Those rational and cooperative folks who had sought help from the army were outnumbered by those who were harming the fields and livestock. The army stopped these senseless panic actions, executed some troublemakers who were causing chaos, and finally regained control of the situation. But the problem was far from solved.

Captain looked at the familiar traces on the fields, feeling uneasy. The withered marks on these crops were not as terrifying as those in Angaso Forest. At first glance, they just looked sunburnt or malnourished. He thought to himself that Wither Gas only lasted for five days and couldn’t have caused such a big impact; it was unreasonable… Yet Halite was starting to doubt what he had learned.

Besides the people’s panic, there was another looming crisis.

"We are running out of food," Captain Halite said bitterly.

"Oh?" The faceless ghost responded like this, showing no emotion.

"There’s not much food stored in Red Gum County," the captain explained to the non-human in front of him. "This is the remote southeast corner of Aryan, where nearby small villages can support Deer Horn Town. In past years, when there was surplus, they could sell to Red Gum County. Red Gum County is not an agricultural county; most of the population is engaged in small crafts and commerce. Residents don’t produce food and rely on exporting products and importing food for survival. However, with the northern checkpoints cutting off the passage, we can’t get anything from the north anymore. Autumn is approaching, and if Deer Horn Town and nearby villages have a good harvest, we can just about manage this year, but if something like this happens…"

Tasha completely understood.

The furthest watchtower gazed at the northern frontier post becoming more and more formal, with tall roadblocks, sentries patrolling in shifts, and soon they might even build a fortress there, giving the sense of turning this place into a permanent border. Deep trenches lay across the secluded road, and the guards lit flames in them every day. If it was just to prevent mindless zombies from spreading, this setup seemed too elaborate.

It seems they are still wary of other things, like the withering curse that could still spread.

In the past, upon appearing, various nature-loving races and professionals who were eager to eradicate the withering curse would fight to kill it. But in today’s Aryan, it seemed like an invasive species without its natural enemies.

Is the curse of the Blight Convention really this powerful? Hard to say. According to Victor’s explanation, the original withering curse was more fierce and rapid than the current version, with differences in various details. But on one hand, the curse of the Blight Convention is not a stable weapon. It is a fusion of the curse of the fallen Druids of the Blight Convention and the spells of the Necromancers, balancing delicate forces. Generally, once it is created, it is used within a few days, as no one knows what would happen if left unused for too long. On the other hand, not to mention the fallen Druids and Necromancers, even ordinary wizards are now being persecuted in Aryan. Where this thing ultimately comes from is still uncertain.

All one can say is that Mavis and her skills arrived just in time.

Not only did it bring peace of mind to the residents of Tasha, but it also presented Tasha with a great gift.

"It’s really hard to have enough food for the winter," said Halite. "I think maybe your people are facing the same problem…"

At this point, it was a straightforward plea for help. If Tasha continued to pretend not to understand, he would soon have to speak plainly. Tasha was a direct person and did not enjoy delaying when people asked for help. So she said, "Yes, thanks to you, they can no longer get food from the forest—just like you. Before the farmlands fell, hunters and fishermen had already lost their source of food."

"It’s our fault," Halite admitted with a self-deprecating smile, letting go of the unnecessary embarrassment and awkwardness. He said directly, "I’m afraid I have to ask for your support with some food."

"Why?" Tasha asked.

"Without your help, the people isolated here will slowly starve to death," the captain said. "You’ve said that it’s better for you if we’re alive than dead."

"Yes, so I propose a trade with you. In exchange for the obedience of your soldiers and your soul, I will ensure the safety of those infected for now. In fact, I have already surpassed the terms of the trade as those people have returned," Tasha said. "Take a step back, I’m willing to provide for those useful soldiers of yours, as long as they serve me. But other humans? They are not part of the deal."

The captain’s jaw clenched suddenly, and Tasha could see him take a deep breath, stopping himself from making any rash moves after hearing her out. He spoke as calmly as possible, "The residents here outnumber my soldiers several times over, and among them are various skilled people, farmers, stablemen, shepherds, tanners, blacksmiths… there will always be some useful individuals. My soldiers will either die in battle or grow old, they cannot fight forever. To have a constant supply of troops, there needs to be enough birth-givers. And here, there are enough men and women of age…"

"And you think I should bear the burden of keeping them alive for this reason?" Tasha asked.

"I cannot sign a pact on behalf of all people with you!" Halite’s voice rose uncontrollably a bit, "The reputation of a demonic pact is well-known, in public hardly any humans would agree to such a thing! If you produce a contract, you’ll only get some cowardly and useless individuals to sign it!"

"Yes, they are not worthy of signing a contract with me. The soul of an ordinary person is far less valuable than the blank contract itself," Tasha replied.

Captain Halite looked up at her, his facial muscles twitching slightly in anger as he clenched his fists. "What do you want exactly?" he asked. "Do you think me and my soldiers can just watch people starve to death?!"

"You are thinking too negatively, Captain," the ghost said patiently. "It’s just a matter of ‘those who do not work, shall not eat.’"

A new deal was made between Captain Halite and the dungeon.

The first to know were the army insiders.

The rumors of the blockade in the north were finally confirmed by Captain Halite himself. Given the prior spread of such news with tacit approval, this public confirmation did not cause much of a stir. The new information revealed that the side they had attacked were not Abyssal Descendants, but a peaceful reclusive tribe. They were handed sinister weapons by their superiors which led to the previous incidents of the undead and the current withering of the fields. All the suffering endured by them and the reclusive tribe was simply to please the generals.

After causing these consequences and blocking the north, their intention was undoubtedly to erase this blemish. Now, they had run out of winter food.

The last sentence was more convincing than anything else, causing a commotion within the army. A small group refused to believe in such a predicament, saying, "There must be a misunderstanding," naively thinking that if they communicated well with the soldiers at the outpost and informed them that the contamination had ceased, they would lift the blockade. Captain Halite had surviving scouts testify, and then brought out the few officers who were still intent on going north, generously letting them take a small group of elite soldiers to try their luck at the northern outpost.

They would not return, these individuals would "die at the hands of guards who refuse to listen to any explanations" – this was decided before they set out. Captain Halite was an excellent commander, kindness alone would not secure his position.

Of course, kindness and respect are also very important.

"Everyone, I must admit some things." The captain stood on a newly built platform in the wilderness, his face solemn as he addressed his team. "Even though the people in the forest have no connection to the abyss, no intent to destroy humans or Aryans, they have indeed fought us, harbored grudges against us, and are not entirely human. But it is these same people who, after the war, treated our comrades infected with Wither Gas without discrimination, did not loot us when we were abandoned by our own kind, and even at such times, were willing to trade food with us."

A buzzing sound came from below, and the captain let it sound for a while before raising his hand for everyone to be quiet.

"I know that many of us dislike these Hybrids and are unwilling to work with them." Halite lowered his voice. "I am the same, as a graduate of the Aryan Military Academy, I know better than most here how to deal with Hybrids, and I am well-versed in the history of Aryans being attacked by Hybrids. I do not want to associate with Hybrids, I am also afraid. If the North knew that I allowed Hybrids into the military camp to treat the wounded, would I be considered a human traitor? Would my wife and son be seen as traitors’ family members? But soldiers, should I abandon our comrades for this reason?"

His voice suddenly raised like a lion roaring, "How can I watch our comrades die in battle together, for the sake of reputation? How can I wait for everyone to starve to death, for a non-existent crime of treason? Our supplies will only last for two more days, what then? Are we going to plunder what little food the residents have left, when their fields can no longer produce, when we were deceived by our superiors and destroyed the forests they relied on for livelihood? And then what? We become pitiful looters, preying on those we should protect, eating their bodies after they starve to death, killing each other like flies and insects, surviving in misery, and finally starving to death as pitiful cannibals here—yes! Look around! Because of what our superiors have done, the land here can no longer grow food! Do you all want to die like this?"

His words prompted various scattered "no’s", most remained silent, perhaps frightened by this grim future.

"I can’t do it." The captain’s voice trembled a bit. "Those people can lock us up here to die for the sake of reputation, but damn it, I can’t watch everyone die! We have eyes, we have ears, we know very well whether we have committed treason against humanity or not. Have we? Look at the scars left by the fight against the undead on our bodies, look at the weary faces of those who have just recovered, tell me, soldiers, are we betraying our country by collaborating with the enemy?!"

"No!"

This time, the soldiers shouted in unison.

"Yes, we don’t!" shouted the captain, "Where are those people who gave us weapons to fight with the dead as we protected the city behind us? While we endure the consequences of those terrible weapons with our own bodies, struggling on the thin line between life and death, waking up to nightmares every night, where are those who can easily slander us, decide to abandon our lives? They hide in safe places, creating imaginary enemies, knowing nothing about us! At the moment of our death, all kinds of fabricated accusations will be pinned on us by them. Are our sacrifices just for those idiots to gain power and wealth?"

"No!!" the soldiers roared.

"We must survive, go confront those idiots, meet the people still waiting for us, instead of becoming a casualty number," the captain said hoarsely, his voice breaking, "So we will peacefully engage with those Hybrids, trade with them, just like trading with another human city."

"Why can’t we kill them?" someone said fiercely.

"Fine. Even if you plan to exterminate a group that could potentially become allies, who have done nothing evil, all because you don’t like the look of their ears. Even if you plan to take the risk, thinking that after killing them, you can find ways to eliminate ground pollution and produce food from their bodies." Halite said wearily, "Remember those Skeleton Soldiers? Yes, and the undead, the mess our weapons created, the things that chase us everywhere, some of them can control these things."

There was a gasping sound from below.

"I know what I’m doing, and I will make sure everyone knows." the captain said, "I have done my best to give us a chance to go home, to fight on our positions until the very end. If cooperating with these Hybrids is a sin worthy of plunging into the abyss… it’s my decision, not yours."

The camp fell silent, then erupted into noise as some vehemently refuted the captain’s self-blame. When the captain raised his head once more, scanning the faces filled with emotion, he knew, at least for now, he had succeeded.

The next day, notices were posted, and the abandoned residents in the southeast corner soon learned their fate. The information was gradually disseminated, with portions tailored by the captain for the military transformed into the version known to the local people—however, the details regarding the northern frontier post and the sinister weapons from above remained uncut.

The stable army by the notice boards was keeping order. The soldiers, with a strong sense of responsibility, believed everything they did was for their families and the local residents. Tasha thought Captain Halite was a good speaker, as redirecting hate had always been the easiest way to unite people. Even though the mainstream opinion for the "Hybrids must die" had been around for a long time, faced with a food crisis, ordinary people would still direct their hatred towards those preventing them from eating.

After the notices spread, teams made up of Craftsman Dwarves and Amazons came to where the humans were. In the central squares of Deer Horn Town and Red Gum County, each team set up simple huts and started trading, under the distant gaze of humans.

The trading was simple – labor in exchange for food.

People whispered to each other, questioning and confirming that they only brought wood and tools. So where did the food on their tables come from? Their jars were filled with creamy milk, soft white bread was placed nearby, and a stern-faced woman brought out plate after plate of roasted meat from the newly built hut, stacking them into a small mountain on the cutting board. A dwarf climbed onto a high stool to be level with the table, holding a large, white melon and cutting it open on the board. The sweet aroma of the melon wafted out, and within five minutes, the dwarf was digging in with a spoon.

No one knew where these items had been hidden before, or if these people could produce more. So, everyone hesitated, afraid to be the first to trade. They just stood around the central hut, about two meters away, watching the people inside with eyes akin to those watching exotic animals. "They look like people," people murmured.

In both Deer Horn Town and Red Gum County, the members of the two teams looked ordinary. Each team had four members – two tall and two short, comprising two men and two women. The tall members had cold expressions, especially the women who seemed fierce, standing there with crossed arms, intimidating onlookers who instinctively looked away. The short members appeared lively, moving around, looking in all directions. If not for the men’s beards, one might have mistaken them for children.

Children in the crowd craned their necks to see the short individuals, feeling a sense of kinship with their height. A curious child pushed too hard and accidentally fell two meters into the isolation zone from the crowd. The short person hopped off the stool and walked towards the child, who got scared and quickly hid behind an adult’s legs. Unperturbed, the short person smiled and waved at the child.

"They don’t seem so scary," the child whispered.

For the first two days, the front of the hut was deserted, with people cautiously watching but not approaching. On the third day, soldiers placed tables and chairs around the square. At mealtime, they lined up in front of the hut for trading, with Captain Halite leading the way. Some were worried and tried to dissuade him, thinking it was unsafe for the commander to test the food. The Captain shook his head, solemnly stating, "If I didn’t believe they were completely harmless, I would never let dangerous people into our living area."

The captain took some grilled meat, bread, and half a melon. He sat down at a nearby seat and started eating right away. He finished his lunch quickly, returned the plates to the window of a small hut. Everyone in the square was watching them. The captain purposely walked a few laps around in their gaze. The people’s eyes turned to the stall in front of the hut. A short man was responsible for handing him food, another short man was recording in a notebook, and a seemingly ordinary man handed a small bottle to the captain with a label that said "Do not eat/Remember to return". A woman stood nearby giving disapproving looks to everyone. People lowered their heads when she looked at them and saw the sword at her waist, realizing she was probably a security guard.

The captain was the first to eat, followed by the soldiers. As these soldiers left energetically and returned in the evening in good spirits, the rumors about "eating their food will turn you into mummies/skeletons/rats/cockroaches…" finally came to an end.