382: The Fall of Veronica

Veloria's Summer Festival had just ended, the clamor receding like a tide, and the city's surface returned to its usual tranquility.

But beneath this calm, a putrid undercurrent was breeding wildly, gnawing at the foundations of the diocese.

The first signs of unrest came from the Dock District.

News of several “vagrants fighting” spread, with reports that the scenes were too bloody to look at directly.

When the constables arrived with the guards, they saw that the “fighters” had blood-red eyes, looked insane, and possessed unnatural strength, tearing two armored guards to shreds.

The priests who arrived merely dismissed it as “remnants of evil power,” hurriedly sprinkled some holy water, and turned to leave.

In their eyes, the lives of the low-born commoners were as light as dust in the wind.

In the City Lord's Mansion dining room, Duke Faulkner Oston was lifting a piece of golden-brown pan-fried foie gras with a silver fork.

Listening to the constable's report, he casually wiped the grease from the corner of his mouth with a silk handkerchief.

“A few commoners' lives, they died, so what?” He took a sip of rich red wine, letting the liquid trickle down his chin from the corner of his mouth, completely unconcerned.

“Since the Church has made its determination, just follow through.”

“Don't let these trivial matters delay my ore trade with the Frost Luo Duchy. This is a big deal that can earn thirty million gold coins.”

He paused, slamming the silver fork onto the silver plate with a 'clang,' his tone showing impatience: “Have the City Guard send more patrols. If they encounter this kind of madness again, deal with them on the spot to avoid trouble.”

The constable lowered his eyes and complied, but his heart was filled with doubts.

The sight of these “vagrants” with blood-red eyes and immense strength was certainly not as simple as a normal fight.

But he dared not speak further; this City Lord only ever cared about his purse and territorial taxes, never the lives of the common folk.

Just three days after the order for “disposal” was given, Veloria completely descended into chaos.

The South City Market was the first to lose control.

A woman selling vegetables was weighing potatoes for a customer when her eyes suddenly glazed over, her pupils instantly turning blood-red. She lunged at the customer opposite her and bit down on their neck.

The moment her teeth sank into the flesh, blood spurted out with a 'puchi,' staining the potatoes on the stall and splashing the linen shirts of those nearby.

Before anyone could react, the customer whose throat was bitten through convulsed and got up, their eyes bloodshot, letting out a bestial roar, and leaping toward the nearest small boy.

“Ryan, my Ryan.” The boy's mother rushed over frantically, only to be shoved away by the “monster,” slamming heavily against the stone wall and cutting her forehead until it bled.

Struggling to rush forward again, she was tightly grabbed by a nearby stall owner whose eyes were vacant.

She could only watch helplessly as her son was dragged into the chaotic crowd, his desperate cries quickly drowned out by the denser roars.

“It's a monster, they've turned into monsters.”

“Run to the church, Holy Light can protect us.”

“Don't push, my daughter is still behind.”

“Please wait for her.”

Wailing and screaming instantly filled the entire street. Panic spread rapidly, soon engulfing most of the city.

The tide of Blood Puppets thus tore open Veloria's first line of defense.

These former citizens, farmers, and artisans now had gray, withered skin, and murky drool dripped from their mouths.

Vegetable stalls weighing hundreds of pounds were casually overturned by them, carriages were pushed onto the ground, and wheels rolled far away, shattering the wooden doors of shops.

The Blood Puppets frantically pursued the scent of the living, especially relentlessly chasing the City Guard.

The blood of these Transcendent Beings, who contained magical power within them, held a fatal attraction for the puppets.

“Quickly, form ranks! Raise shields.”

The City Guard Knight Captain roared and swung his sword, Battle Qi wrapping the silver-white sword light, cleaving three Blood Puppets in two with a single strike.

More Blood Puppets crawled forward, stepping over the severed limbs of their comrades, dense and numerous, knowing neither pain nor retreat.

“Captain, there are too many. We can't kill them all!” The young soldier's cry held a sob; his left arm had been torn open by a Blood Puppet.

Blood flowed down his arm, and his eyes quickly began to glaze over. “I... I can't control my hand... it wants to grab the brother next to me...”

The Knight Captain looked back, his heart instantly sinking to the bottom.

The street had already turned into a living hell: broken limbs hung from the eaves, internal organs smeared on the stone walls, and surviving citizens huddled and scrambled into alleys, only to be easily overtaken and pounced upon by the Blood Puppets... The 'crunch' of chewing, heart-wrenching wails, and the monsters' satisfied growls mixed together, chilling one to the core.

His Battle Qi was about to run out, and his arm was so sore he could barely lift it.

In a moment of distraction, several Blood Puppets broke through the sword net, clamped tightly onto his lower leg, and bit down.

The steel greaves creaked as they were gnawed, and sharp pain shot up his leg bone.

The Captain backhanded his sword, slicing off the monster's head, but more Blood Puppets were already crawling up, grabbing his cloak with their claws and dragging him toward the pile of blood.

“No...”

The brief, tragic cry was drowned out by the roars; the Knight Captain, along with his sword, was swallowed by the red tide.

While the city center was in complete turmoil, the West City Gate was already a scene of utter chaos.

City Lord Faulkner was directing his servants to load treasures onto a Magic Carriage, his greasy face full of anxiety, sweat rolling down his cheeks and soaking his luxurious silk shirt.

“Hurry up, bring up this box of sapphires, and the gilded statue from my study.”

“Be careful, don't damage it. This is a treasure I bought from the Emerald Royal Court.” He shoved a servant who was moving slightly slower.

The servant stumbled and hit a wooden box, scattering the silver utensils inside with a 'huālā' sound.

“Your Grace, the Magic Carriage really cannot hold any more.” The servant cried, “If we load more, the wheels will break.”

“Load it even if it can't hold any more.”

Faulkner grabbed the servant's collar, his greasy fingers digging into the man's flesh, his eyes ferocious.

“This statue is worth half a million gold coins. If you lose it, can you afford to pay for it?”

His wife pulled his arm, pleading tearfully: “Darling, forget the treasures. The monsters are catching up behind us. If we don't leave now, we'll all die here.”

“Shut up!”

Faulkner violently shook off her hand, and his wife stumbled and fell to the ground, the pearls from her hair dropping into the chaotic crowd and instantly being trampled into fragments.

“Without treasures and land, we'd just be fallen nobles even if we escaped. Make them keep moving things.”

Just as he stared blankly at the last box of jewels, several Blood Puppets had already reached the city gate, roaring and pouncing on the fleeing civilians.

Faulkner was scared out of his wits, no longer caring about the remaining treasures. With rubbery legs, he jumped onto the carriage and screamed at the driver: “Go, hurry! Don't worry about the people behind us.”

The Magic Carriage frantically rushed out of the city gate, its wheels rolling over a civilian's leg.

The crowd let out a piercing scream, which was quickly swallowed by the surging Blood Puppets.

The treasures that hadn't been loaded onto the carriage were scattered at the city gate, instantly trampled into glittering fragments by the Blood Puppets.