The Divine Armor of the Old Century（Book 1）

Chapter 17

Many times, even great detectives make mistakes. They are only human, and to err is human.

The painted glass was not meant to illuminate the hall; rather, the light scattered through the glass, casting colorful rays into the enclosed room. The joyous music seemed distant here, and a faint white mist rose, carrying a soothing scent.

On the sofa, a man bowed his head toward the wall, as if in prayer. Above the dark cross on the wall, something eerie squirmed, seemingly alive, like a visual distortion.

"The room's decor is nice, like a church," remarked the guest, who had traveled from afar, dressed in black with a bird-like mask and a hat.

This attire was reminiscent of several hundred years ago, during the time of the Black Death that ravaged Engleweige and surrounding kingdoms. Doctors dressed similarly then, with the bird mask actually being a gas mask filled with herbs to filter out viruses.

Though the dark ages had long passed, people still harbored superstitions about such attire. Doctors had significant power back then. To control the plague, if a doctor declared you infected, you would be isolated. Your home would be burnt by knights, and finally, you would be placed with other patients in a mass grave. They would set fire to the fish oil and firewood, burning both you and the disease, covering it all with soil afterward.

They were more like grim reapers than doctors, exuding an ominous air.

"Yes, it's modeled after the church in my memory of a small town. The church wasn't very big; it could be filled with a few dozen people," replied Sabo, slowly raising his head. With the light from the hall behind him, his silhouette appeared pitch black.

"I thought you Vikings believed in Odin," the plague doctor said as he took a seat opposite Sabo, beneath his dark lenses seeming to be watchful.

"No, when the steel ships and cannons entered the northern seas, the so-called gods were already dead. We continued to fight, hoping for a place in Valhalla. But in reality, there was nothing. Once dead, you were just dead, floating on the cold sea, meaningless in death," Sabo said in a flat tone, as if recounting an unrelated story.

"That should have been my last voyage. I drifted to Engleweige on a piece of wreckage and was saved by a church priest. The church I woke up in probably looked like this," Sabo continued, his gaze wandering around the narrow darkness, as if unwilling to forget. Sabo had always existed here.

"That Engleweige person was very strange. He was really mentally ill. The first question he asked me when I woke up was if I was interested in learning about the gospel," Sabo laughed.

"I'm a Viking, and he actually asked me if I was interested in the church."

His laughter, however raucous, was eventually drowned out by the faint music, leaving the room as quiet as still water.

"And what was the end of that story?" the doctor's voice was oddly neutral, tinged with an iron tone, likely due to the plague mask.

"When I was dying, the Valkyries did not descend for me, and Valhalla closed its doors to me. So I thought I'd try betrayal. Perhaps the noble Odin would take notice of me, a mere ant," Sabo said.

"I accepted baptism and lived to this day, without any retribution, not even nightmares. I've thrived since then, even better than when I was a pirate," Sabo found everything so ridiculous. Everything everyone had been so adamant about seemed like bubbles now.

"I think I understand," the plague doctor fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "Do you think... gods are useful?"

"You mean to save humanity? Doctor," Sabo asked.