Chapter 156
Feeling a shudder of cold dread, Siren trembled slightly—Yasamin, standing behind her, gently embraced her.
“I don’t sense the warmth of living bodies. But there are presences.”
“Don’t tell me… this entire place is infected too?”
“Most likely.”
Yasamin furrowed his brow and extended his hand, conjuring a serpent.
The snake flicked its tongue and slithered away, only to return shortly after, carrying a severed hand in its mouth.
The dried blood on the hand had long since hardened, and from its shriveled state, it appeared to have been detached from its owner for at least three days.
“Hmm.”
Siren let out a brief hum, gazing down at it before straightening and scanning their surroundings.
The ship they had landed on was on the right side.
Most likely, Hies would be at the center.
“If there’s no trace of living warmth, let’s head to the central ship, Yasamin.”
“Shall we?”
“Hies must still be alive.”
Of course—after all, he wouldn’t have orchestrated something of this scale just to die.
Yet, strangely enough, there was no sign of life on the next ship either. Nor the one after that.
The presence of the living—the so-called vital signs—was nowhere to be found.
The sound of a beating heart and the rush of blood coursing through veins.
Hearing Yasamin say that such things were entirely absent left Siren genuinely perplexed.
Was Hies not on the ship at all?
“So, in the end, we have no choice but to go inside.”
Muttering in a low voice, Yasamin gently pushed Siren behind him.
Crack.
Then, sharp bones surged forth from both of his arms.
The sight of those biological weapons, capable of cutting down anything that stood in his way, gleaming pure white under the moonlight—was both distant and eerily chilling.
Screeeech.
Was there any need to open the door by hand? It was enough to use the Raksha to pull it open.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the door leading inside the ship creaked open.
“……”
What exactly had transpired inside this vessel, which seemed to have once held a significant figure among the Nu clan?
A gust of wind carried the thick stench of blood.
Gazing into the pitch-black interior, which seemed like the entrance to hell itself, Yasamin conjured several small fireballs and sent them drifting downward.
“Looks like there’s no avoiding a fight.”
The infected creatures, upon seeing the fireballs, let out a collective growl, their snarls merging into a vibrating resonance. Feeling the tremor beneath her feet, Siren silently agreed with Yasamin’s words.
Whether they were beheaded or drowned in the sea, there was no choice until the ritual was complete.
“I’ll stay here and attempt to create a spell to restore the infected to humans.”
“Got it. I’ll go in quickly and come back out.”
“Alright.”
Entering together would only be a hindrance.
Even though her divine power had recovered to about 88%, she was not yet immortal. If she were bitten, even she could not predict what would happen.
She would not die, but… she would not remain unscathed either.
‘Raksha, help me. Follow my will and grant my wish.’
So that I can bring everything to an end.
So that I can at least save those who can still be saved.
As Siren closed her eyes, fierce winds whipped around her. Her robes fluttered, and her jet-black hair scattered wildly.
Responding to the goddess’s power, the sea trembled violently and struck the ship’s hull, causing it to lurch and sway.
Biting her lip tightly, Siren surveyed her surroundings—not with her eyes, but with her senses.
She could see nothing with her physical eyes, but Raksha—only Raksha—was tangible and present.
At first, the infected creatures’ monstrous wails filled her ears, but as time passed, even those sounds faded.
Now in a complete state of trance, Siren’s fingertips moved naturally.
Gripping the black Raksha she had never dared to touch before, she began to soothe its violent energy with gentle strokes.
‘Listen to me.’
Water-aligned Raksha always adhered to her touch, but the power of this curse was different. It twisted and writhed, thrashing like an eel, desperately trying to escape.
Before long, sweat began to bead on Siren’s forehead, but she refused to give up.
She was determined to reverse this curse called ‘the infected’—no matter what it took.
‘Just a little more, just a little longer…’
Like painting a masterpiece, she had to craft a single, perfect image.
Using the black Raksha, Siren drew the background.
A pitch-black night.
Then, she pulled forth white Raksha and formed the shape of a human.
A figure with clasped hands—when a golden-hued Raksha swirled around it, the figure shone brilliantly, as if encased in starlight.
Just as Siren, half lost in concentration, was about to complete the spell—
As she traced the last details, sculpting a faintly smiling mouth, a sharp nose, and was just about to place the eyes—
“Die!”
Thunk!
A sudden attack from behind pierced deep into her lower back, causing Siren’s body to lurch violently forward.
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