Chapter 105: Millia’s Healer’s Heart

To my surprise, the indigenous people’s temporary camp was not far from the hillside that could become a battlefield. We only needed to climb down the other side of the hill and enter a forest that was not particularly dense, and there we saw countless temporary tents squeezed into every gap between the trees. Many women were busy working there, while the children, unable to bear the quiet, climbed up the trees and tried to catch a glimpse of their fathers’ and brothers’ heroic postures on the distant hillside, weapon s in hand. Of course, all they could see was a long string of blurry backs, but even that was enough to satisfy the worship and respect for the brave that filled their young hearts. They cheered and leaped, shouting the names of their loved ones in the direction where they thought their fathers and brothers were standing, expressing their pride in this way.

We followed behind Evlinna, walking briskly toward the southeast corner of the camp. As we crossed the camp, I deliberately paid attention to the number of tents, hoping to estimate the total population of these indigenous people. Unfortunately, I failed. The temporary camp they had set up was simply too large, bigger than a great city. The trees blocked my view, preventing me from seeing its edge at a glance. But I could see that even in the far distance, grayish-white cooking smoke was rising gently into the air. Gathering so many people on this rugged and vast land could not have been an easy task, and from this we could also see just how powerful the power of faith was for our fierce masters.

Finally, we arrived at a quiet part of the camp. The women working here were generally older, moving slowly and cautiously. The tents here looked different from the others — the outside of each tent was painted with a large black cross mark using black dye. This ordinary mark felt extremely uncomfortable in this place.

If Poirot were here, I wondered what he might see.

In front of the smallest tent here, Evlinna stopped. She hesitated for a moment, then reached out and lifted the tent’s curtain. A damp, moldy smell mixed with the strange odors of many medicinal herbs rushed out from the open tent entrance, strongly stinging our noses.

Millia walked toward the tent with big steps without any hesitation. At that moment, she looked both calm and holy, carrying the full appearance of a benevolent and noble healer.

We followed closely behind her into the tent.

The small tent immediately became crowded because of our entry. Standing behind the two ladies, I saw the High Priest in the throes of severe illness.

I knew he was very sick, but I had not expected it to be this bad. The respected, noble old man had snow-white hair and a beard, and the skin on his face was deeply wrinkled from weight loss. An unnatural flush of red spread across his face, showing that the old man was burning with a severe fever. Strange black spots covered his neck, arms, and chest. They stood out like invitations from the Grim Reaper, making one feel extremely uncomfortable just looking at them. Clearly, he had been suffering terribly from the disease and was now in a coma. Judging from his build and muscles, he must have been far healthier and stronger than most old men of his age before falling ill — this was probably the main reason he was still alive. But now, his health had been worn down to its limit. He looked incredibly weak, as if he could die at any moment.

Millia frowned. She put on a pair of gloves made of a strange material to avoid direct contact with the High Priest, then placed her hand on his forehead, leaned over his chest to listen to his heartbeat, and then opened her medical kit and took out several instruments of unknown purpose to perform various examinations on him. We did not make a sound, and neither did Evlinna. The young girl kept her lips tightly shut, watching Millia’s actions nervously. With her level of knowledge, she probably could not tell what the beautiful believer was doing, but precisely because of that, she felt a strong sense of hope. This was clearly visible in her eyes.

“How long has he been like this?” Suddenly, Millia stopped her examination and turned to ask Evlinna.

“About… about five days now. He has been unconscious the whole time,” Evlinna replied sadly.

“And before that? Were there any special symptoms, such as… a low fever, or dizziness, or something like that?”

“Half a month ago, Grandfather started feeling feverish. At the time, he took some medicine he had prepared himself and almost recovered. But… but from that time on, these black spots appeared on his arms. Two days later, his illness suddenly struck again, and it struck with great violence. No matter how we prayed or begged, it was useless. The medicine was even more useless. The people here first fell ill around that time. Later, Grandfather managed to gather the leaders of the various tribes and held a divination ceremony, and then…”

“And afterward? Did anyone else fall ill?” Millia did not seem very interested in the divination ceremony.

“Most people fell ill later. Some after the divination ceremony, some even later than that. Black spots would first appear on the bodies of those who got sick. They say that is proof of God Lumburi’s wrath.”

“What medicine did he take?”

“Just these.” Evlinna took several medicinal herbs out of a small pouch and placed them beside Millia.

Millia picked up the herbs, examined them carefully, and then nodded. She spoke softly to Evlinna.

“Don’t worry. I have a way to save your grandfather, but I will probably need a few days. Could you set up a tent for me here?”

“I’ll arrange it.” Evlinna immediately walked toward the tent exit. Just as one foot crossed the doorway, she abruptly stopped, then turned around and said gratefully, “Thank you, Sister Millia.”

Once she was certain Evlinna had left, Millia’s expression grew heavy. She placed both hands over the High Priest’s forehead and softly chanted a mysterious incantation. Only after a long time did she move her hands away. By then, the High Priest’s face was no longer so red, and his breathing had become much smoother. Apart from the black spots on his body, he looked almost like a healthy old man sleeping.

“It’s a type of plague!” Millia said to us gravely. “I know of four or five kinds of plagues that strike during the cold of winter, but this is not any of them. From the look of it, this disease will not be easy to deal with. For now, I can only bring down the High Priest’s fever and then slowly think of a way.”

We had already guessed this possibility beforehand, but when it appeared before us as an extremely real reality, we still did not know what attitude we should take toward it.

“Millia, don’t push yourself too hard…” After a long while, Fred finally spoke. At this moment, his concern for his beloved clearly occupied most of his heart. “If… if there’s no way, we’ll find a way to leave tonight. I can’t let you take this risk!”

“You cannot make a doctor leave her patients, Fred,” Millia replied calmly. “There are people here who need my help. I must stay. And…” The believer of the Benevolent God gave a bitter smile. “It may already be too late, my dear. None of us can go back.”

Millia’s words made Fred freeze for a moment. Then, suddenly, Fred broke into an easy, carefree laugh. It was a smile that only he possessed, like sunlight piercing through dark clouds and spreading across the vast land. He nodded at Millia, said nothing, and then looked at me.

I also answered my friend with a smile.

At a time like this, words were already unnecessary.

The tent curtain was lifted again, and Evlinna slipped inside. She immediately saw her grandfather, who had clearly improved, and let out a joyful cry. Then, noticing her own noise, she quickly covered her mouth and quietly backed out of the tent.

Seeing the girl’s jubilant look, we could not bear to tell her the truth.

For the next three days, Millia moved from tent to tent among the patients. She asked in as much detail as possible what symptoms the sick people had, but not many could actually provide her with useful information. The indigenous people habitually regarded the epidemic as punishment from the gods and were unwilling to cooperate with Millia. During this period, she absolutely forbade us from contacting or speaking with the sick, and we had to eat separately.

During these three days, whenever the High Priest’s condition began to worsen, Millia would set aside everything she was doing and use her miraculous magic to bring down the fever of this respectable old man. This largely stopped the High Priest’s condition from deteriorating, but it was equally clear that the magic’s effect on him was becoming weaker and weaker. The fever-reducing effect lasted shorter and shorter. On the third day, within just one afternoon, Millia performed treatment on the High Priest six consecutive times. The enormous consumption of magic left Millia looking very unwell. Her face was pale, her eyes were bloodshot, and she seemed as though she might collapse at any moment. But she did not give up treating the patients. Even when possible, she forced herself to use magic to relieve more patients’ suffering. Within her small, delicate body lay an astonishingly great power — a power that kept her strong and unyielding, stubbornly snatching lives back from the grasp of death.

During these three days, many of the sick residents died one after another. Whenever she saw someone die, Millia felt extraordinary pain and sorrow, sinking into guilt and self-blame, as though it were caused by her own fault. Every time she saw a patient suffering miserably from the disease, Millia would show an inexplicable anxiety. Her anxiety had nothing to do with our future, nothing to do with our army being blocked by the indigenous warriors, and nothing to do with our own safety. It was a pure anxiety — the anxiety of a healer who had run out of options for her patients. Our situation was no longer within the scope of Millia’s consideration. When facing patients, she was simply a doctor — a kind person who would use all her ability and wisdom to save lives.

After three days of observation, although Millia had not obtained much useful information, it was enough for her to make a judgment of some sort.

“Three days have passed, and none of us have fallen ill. This shows that this plague is not spread through breathing. This is the most fortunate thing — otherwise, who knows how many more people would have fallen sick, or even died. The second fortunate thing is that this disease does not kill immediately. After half a month, although everyone is severely ill, fewer than a hundred have actually died, and they were all frail elders, women, and children. The third fortunate thing is that the residents here have done very well in preventing and isolating the epidemic — especially having those with milder symptoms care for those with more severe symptoms, and not allowing the sick to have contact with the outside. Although people still fall ill every day, this has already greatly controlled the spread of the outbreak. Whether they do it out of fear of infection or fear of divine punishment, it benefits us greatly.” On the evening of the third day, Millia said this to us in her own tent.

“From analyzing the collected information, this epidemic is spread through saliva and skin contact, and transmission through saliva causes the illness to develop especially quickly. Unfortunately, I cannot learn the detailed progression of the illness from the sick residents, so I have no way to prescribe the right treatment. All I can do is use magic to bring down fevers for the severely ill, which can at most buy a few more days. Right now, the High Priest’s condition is terrible. He can hold on for at most seven more days — and that is with me using magic to control his fever.”

“Then what can we do?” I asked urgently. “Just watch them die, and then have them kill us?”

“There is one more way…” Millia replied. Although she was answering my question, her gaze never left Fred’s eyes.

“…Yes, there is one more way to understand the full progression of the illness and find a treatment as soon as possible. And this is precisely why I called you here.”

With that, Millia took a bowl from the rack inside the tent. The bowl held half a bowl of clear water.

“This bowl of water was drunk from by five patients today…”

While I was still staring blankly at the half bowl of water, wondering what Millia intended to do, she suddenly raised the bowl with lightning speed and drank it all down. Her movement was so fast that before we could even finish forming the thought of stopping her, the water had already gone down her throat.

“Millia!” Fred shouted. He stood up, wanting to rush over and stop his beloved. Although we all knew it was already meaningless, the action seemed to come from the very depths of his heart, leaving him no other choice.

“Stop!” Millia’s stern, low voice halted my friend. “From now on, you are forbidden from touching me. You are forbidden from touching anything I have touched with your bare hands. There are two more pairs of gloves in my medical kit. You must wear them every day, and you are not allowed to take them off even while sleeping. You must absolutely not touch any exposed skin with your hands. If possible, I hope you two will not take off your clothes these few days, and cover your faces as well. Starting tomorrow morning, I need the two of you to obey my commands absolutely. Understood?”

“Millia, you… you don’t need to do this…” Fred murmured in a daze.

“Understood?” Ignoring Fred’s loss of composure, Millia stubbornly asked again in a loud voice.

“Alright, we understand.” I nudged Fred and answered her in a low voice.

“Fred,” I reminded my friend, “right now, the only one we can rely on is Millia herself. If you want her to live, we’d better do as she says.”

By this time, Fred could no longer make any reply. Tears filled his eyes, and love made him sigh helplessly.

“I’m sorry, Fred.” Having received my assurance, Millia’s voice grew soft. “Only by doing this can I fully understand the illness and save the High Priest and more people before they die of it. I am a believer of the Supreme God, and my heart leaves me no other choice…”

“Stop talking…” Fred wept like rain, his whole body trembling in pain and regret. “Why does it have to be you? If you needed it, I could have drunk that bowl of water for you. I could have told you everything about myself. Why does it have to be you doing something like this…”

“It’s different, Fred.” Millia’s voice sounded somewhat faint. Her gaze seemed distant, and a flush of red spread across her cheeks. “God says that in this world, there are some things that only you can do — no one can take your place. I have never felt so truly as I do now that this is something I must do. I believe that our coming here, and encountering these sick people — this is all the arrangement of the Supreme God. Now, God has arranged for me to do something great. I heard his voice…”

“…God watches over us, Fred. He always watches over us. I will be fine. No one will be fine. Trust me…”

Millia’s face grew redder and redder. Her breathing became heavy, and her voice gradually grew weaker, as though a fire were burning in her chest. She struggled to climb onto the bed. Fred wanted to walk over and help her, but she stopped him. She reached out to pull the blanket, and her originally fair and smooth arm slipped out from the wide sleeve.

In that instant, my heart felt as though it had been smashed by a giant hammer — a heavy congestion clogged my chest. I could not help but stride out of the tent in large steps, falling weakly to my knees on the ground. In frustration, I swung my right fist and slammed it hard into the earth. I saw blood seeping from between my fingers, but I felt no pain. If even this fine sensation on my hand could be called “pain,” then I had no idea what words could describe the churning, twisting agony that came from the very tip of my heart. I could only kneel there on the ground, clutching my head with both hands, letting tears pour into this harsh, bitter soil.

Everything was like a still copperplate engraving, forever imprinted in my mind. Just now, in the instant Millia reached out her arm, I had seen it — beneath her elbow, an ugly black spot had already surfaced.

That was the mark of death, and now it had appeared on Millia’s arm. I knew that Millia would inevitably face such a thing, but I had not expected it to come so quickly — so quickly that even I, who had witnessed it with my own eyes, had not been mentally prepared at all. Those had once been such beautiful arms, and no amount of wonderful words could have been too much to describe them. They had saved critically ill people from the shadow of death time after time. And now, they had already been stamped with death’s brand.

I did not know what had made this seemingly delicate woman do such a thing. She herself said it was faith — I did not believe that. No deity of any kind could give an ordinary person the awareness and courage to sacrifice their life like this. Such courage could never come from anywhere else. It could only come from a person’s heart. I was not certain whether the Supreme God was truly that great, but of this I was absolutely certain: Millia’s greatness came from her own nobility, not from anything external. She was truly a person with a lofty healer’s heart.

At some point, Fred walked out of Millia’s tent. He handed me a pair of gloves and gripped the other pair tightly in his right hand. The knuckles of his right hand made faint cracking sounds from the excessive force, and dark blue veins tightly wound around his arm, as if about to burst through his skin.

“She will be fine…” His voice was twisted beyond recognition by emotion, and his face could not conceal the deep sorrow in his heart. His eyes were red and swollen, his pupils staring blankly into the boundless darkness of the night, his tears long since dried up.

“She… will… be fine!”