Chapter 83: Lovesickness (2)

Chapter 83: Lovesickness (2)

The Hound of the Night has returned.

By the time Vikir returned to Balak's village, the Red Death had spread across the lands.

Balak built a house on the water and built a dam to trap the water, so the damage was small, but the conditions of other neighboring tribes were truly miserable.

Ahun was the first to come out when he heard that Vikir had returned.

He ran up to him, his face full of tears, and as soon as he saw Vikir, he threw himself into his arms.

"You're back!"

Ahun had been visibly shaken for days.

He had barely eaten or slept since his only sister, Ahul, had fallen ill with the Red Death, and all he had done was care for her.

Ahun took Vikir's hand through thick tears.

"Thank you for coming back. You are a loyal boy. It's okay if you didn't get the cure, just the fact that you came back like this...."

They seemed to misunderstand because Vikir had come empty-handed.

But Vikir had definitely brought it with him.

A miracle that would cure all his friends in the dephts.

"Follow me."

"...?"

Vikir tugged a dazed Ahun along, heading straight for his barracks.

Ahun's barracks, right near the entrance to the village, where Ahul lay moaning.

She was the first to be struck by the red death, so she was in the worst condition.

Her face is now halved, but she's clean, free of dirt and foul odors, thanks to Ahun's good care.

Without a second thought, Vikir took out the vial of Saint's Tears.

...Pow!

The Saint's Tears from his pocket hadn't even opened the vial yet, yet it still exerted a strong divine power.

Surprisingly, the light emanating from the saint's tears was enough to drive the red death out of Ahul's body.

The red spots were disappearing.

The disease that had been tormenting him for so long had vanished with such ease.

"...! ...! ...! ...!"

Ahun's eyes widened to tears at the miraculous scene.

The fact that he was frozen in place, unable to even scream, gave him away.

Ahun stroked Ahul's face with a trembling hand.

His face was contorted and sweating, but Ahul was asleep, looking more relaxed than he had in a long time.

All he could do was moan and sweat in a colorful rasp.

"...Vikir!"

Ahul called out breathlessly, and then a few more times in quick succession.

" Vikir! Vikir! Vikir! Vikir!"

The tone was careful but reverent, like a devout priest saying the name of God in prayer, with infinite trust, affection, and joy.

And it was the same with Ahun's closest associates.

Friends who had to witness the pain and sorrow of a friend they were close enough to trust with their lives.

They, too, could not help but chant his name vigorously in the face of his miraculous ability to blast away all their anxiety, bitterness, helplessness, and frustration with a single blow.

"Vikir! Vikir! Vikir! Vikir! Vikir!"

The sturdy Balak warriors stamped their feet and cheered so loudly that the floating house nearly collapsed.

But Vikir remained calm in the midst of all the excitement.

He had just cured one patient. There was still a long way to go.

Bikir turned to Ahun and the other Balak warriors.

"How many patients do you have?"

"About thirty, including Ahul."

"All of you may drink of this water."

Bikir sprinkled the tears of a saint into the river.

Suddenly, a bright light emanated from the entire vast river.

It was a beautiful sight, as if the Milky Way in the night sky had descended to earth and was flowing.

Mesmerized by this mysterious light, the natives spontaneously scooped up water from the river with their hands.

And a miracle happened.

The "red death" began to die.

"Oh-oh-oh-oh!"

The entire jungle erupted in a shout that seemed to carry away.

Aquila, the Balak chieftain, cried out in excitement.

"Vikir, I must appoint you shaman of our tribe!"

The Night Fox praises the Night Hound.

All the other tribes gathered here shout out to Vikir, each in their own language and gestures.

They all have different ways of expressing themselves, but they all want to express the same thing.

The expressions of love, respect, and gratitude were heartwarming.

The plague patients, whether they were family members, friends, or patients themselves, dropped to one knee in front of Vikir and paid him the utmost respect.

This means that everyone in the jungle is grateful to Vikir.

Even the crooked old men who had been viewed unfavorably within the Balak bowed deeply to Bikir.

It was heartfelt gratitude for saving their sons, daughters, sons-in-law, daughters-in-law, grandsons, and granddaughters.

Meanwhile.

"...?"

Vikir was looking for someone in addition to treating countless patients.

A face he'd heard had the Red Death, but couldn't figure out why he couldn't see.

Vikir looked around for a long time, but the face he was looking for was nowhere to be found among the cloud of patients.

Just then.

Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta.

The sound of footsteps.

Vikir knew from the sound alone that the person he was looking for had arrived.

He turned his head.

Puck.

Something rushes at me at breakneck speed, slamming into me.

Aiyen. She rushes forward and wraps her arms around Vikir's body.

Thud!

Muscles clench, bones scream.

I had to raise the mana because I thought I might break my back the moment I got out of the way.

Next, Vikir grabs Aiyen's cheek as she buries her face in his chest.

"I thought you had the Red Death?"

But Aiyen's face, staring up at Vikir, was intact.

There was no redness in her body, no sweat. Her complexion was normal.

The only thing that bothered him was the youthful blush across her face.

Just to be on the safe side, Bikir splashed some holy water on her face, but the flush didn't subside.

She looks down at herself with a puzzled expression.

"What is ...?"

She scratched her head in confusion.

He looked up into Vikir's face again and said.

"You're feeling better, aren't you?"