"Lord Marian," Malin approached the old man, his complexion paler than before, large beads of sweat rolling down his forehead; yet, he was blissfully unaware of it.
He stood before the old man, "Unwrap your bandages and let me see your wound."
"Why?" The healer looked at Malin, full of curiosity, "Exposing a wound to the air can lead to infection, that’s a theory you’ve espoused yourself."
"But what if the wound has already begun to fester and pus under the bandages?" Malin retorted, looking at the elder, "Please trust me, Lord Marian."
Before the woman could object, a young man by Marian’s side had already seized his injured arm and ripped the bandage from the wound.
Inevitably, this action aggravated the elder’s injury, who clenched his teeth, holding back curses, and stared intently at his wound—because everyone could see the dark green pus dripping from his suppurating, putrid sore.
"I can’t feel any pain from the wound at all," Marian said through clenched teeth.
"Is this the corrupting power of Nagoth?" The young man looked at Malin and asked.
"No, it’s not its power; I don’t sense the force of Chaos," the healer almost threw herself at the wound at this point.
"Right, this isn’t the power of Nagoth. Those rat-men are from the Pestilent clan... whelps of the horned rat, Skaven of the disease clan, a mongrel that won’t even grant so-called eternal life to its followers, a useless entity that still needs the power of faith," Malin had no fondness at all for this entity, considering the horned rat to be nothing more than a psychotic.
In their world, it was just a Chaos deity rising opportunely.
"I always feel like you’re disparaging other deities," the young man said with a wry smile and shake of his head, pretending he hadn’t heard the previous comment.
Although the healer looked displeased, after pondering for a moment, she reluctantly focused on the name of the disease clan with a sense of resignation, "Pestilent... the disease clan, are they really not followers of Nagoth?"
"Yes, they are not. Nagoth tempts with the promise of eternal life, though we all know that such longevity is merely being imprisoned within one another’s shells, living a fate worse than death, which is the current state of Nagoth... The disease clan, on the other hand, spreads plague but only promulgates destruction and death. In their eyes, it is as if it is their destiny to have a plague destroy a world," explained Malin.
"How do you know so much about these things?" The young man asked.
"My bloodline tells me; we are natural enemies," Malin did not lie, for him, this knowledge appeared directly in his mind, his paternal bloodline seemed to have all this wicked and Chaotic knowledge memorized, as if from the start they were meant to oppose them.
Having said that, Malin handed Marian a World Tree fruit elixir, which the latter took, "I guess that’s why you initially refused to give me medicine."
"Indeed, the elixir has a very good healing effect on disease, and at that time, you didn’t seem to have a problem, so I needed to know the true extent of the disease once it broke out in you. Only then would I know what we’re truly up against. I’m sorry, Lord Marian."
"A very rational choice. I would’ve done the same. Anyway, thank you, lad, you’ve saved me once again," Marian said, before uncorking and downing the elixir in one gulp.
Everyone saw his wound healing rapidly, the dark green pus soon turning to black blood, then the blood color changed to red; upon this, the healer immediately took out the usual potion to cleanse Marian’s wound and began to bandage it again.
"Our opponent is a problem of considerable size, so I must have everyone wait for the anti-plague masks to be delivered by the supply line," Malin said while adjusting his helmet, "Tell all the soldiers, this battle will not count the heads of enemies. All combatants are credited with two heads, the first three rows of combatants with four, and six heads for those killed in action. Do not casually touch the corpses of the rat-men, contact the Benevolent Church, we need large anti-plague incineration sites, send a team of messengers to contact our Druid and Shaman allies."
As the commands were issued in one breath, the team of messengers immediately took the orders and headed to the World Tree city in the North.
"Mr. Malin, let us advance, our flames can purify everything," declared the Dwarven Great Craftsman, thumping his chest as he looked at Malin.
"You’re with me in the first line, my soldiers will provide covering fire from the second. We can’t use fire before breaking into the node, as it will obstruct our vision and direction. Everyone, use your shotguns and bayonets, wear the heaviest armor, deploy the Anti-Evil Magic Array, and use anti-evil inscription plates," Malin concluded, looking at the old Dwarf, "Is that alright, Old Stoneheart?"
"Of course, sir. As long as we can follow you, we Stoneheart Dwarves will never frown," he replied.
"Good," Malin said, then turned to his guard commander, "Kegan, you take your company and follow behind me. The whole company switches to semi-automatic weapons. Put on your biocapture goggles, aim for the casters first. In the underground sewers, our first line will be your shield wall, but beyond that, you will face damage head-on, and casualties may be high. That’s why I’ve chosen your company as the first to engage. You may suffer complete losses... Any objections?"