The Death Mage that doesn't want a fourth time

62 Let's play the melody of death throes using disease, weapons and the sun

With a dripping noise, cold fluid fell from a helmet.

The soldier wearing the helmet didn't take much notice of it. This was a battlefield. A place where blood would normally be spraying through the air. If he was too concerned over a few drops of fluid, he would lose his life.

But that soldier soon began coughing. A headache followed without warning, alongside terrible nausea, dizziness, joint pain, a stomachache... He could even feel that he was developing a fever.

He coughed some more. "P-poison..."

His throat was in pain; he wasn't in a state to speak loudly. And everywhere across the battlefield, troops were experiencing deterioration in their physical conditions just like the soldier... No, to be more precise, there was one exception. Isla and her group were the only ones unaffected.

It's gone well.

Vandalieu gave a satisfied nod atop the second fortress wall after having used the trebuchets to scatter the virus projectiles packed full of water containing the pathogen he had made.

The soldiers and knights who were trying to regain their composure were unable to walk, kneeling on the ground while coughing and suffering.

Even Gordan and Riley, who had been striking down the boulders, were no exception. The ones who looked like mercenaries were still standing, flustered at the situation around them. They were likely to be the Vampires. It was convenient that they had all gathered in one spot.

The disease Vandalieu had created was a disease that didn't infect those who by nature could be affected by Death-Attribute Charm.

It had no effect on Ghouls, Cemetery Bees, Pauvina or Vampires, but the humans that made up the vast majority of the Mirg shield-nation's expedition army were infected through every possible infection route and the disease took hold within seconds.

That was the kind of disease it was.

"Guh... Antidote Potions... aren't working..."

"Don't lower your shields, the shield-nation will be disgraced if we fall to a poison like this!"

"Why, even though I have the Poison Resistance skill..."

Many of the soldiers had mistaken the disease created by Vandalieu for a poison. They couldn't be blamed for assuming this, as their physical conditions had simply started deteriorating without warning.

But even as they drank the antidote Potions that they had been equipped with, their conditions improved for only a moment. This was only natural, as even if the antidote removed the toxins within their body, the pathogens continued to produce more.

"Cure Disease! This isn't a poison, it's a disease!" shouted High Priest Gordan. "You lot, heal the ones around you! Mages, hurry and stand up, will you!"

As expected, he was the first one to recover. As his passive life-attribute healing magic healed his disease, he also cast his own spells as he reprimanded those around him.

"Messara, h-hurry... up!"

Messara coughed violently. "W-wait, my throat...!"

Things weren't so simple. Without the Chant Revocation skill, even talking normally with her body in pain was impossible right away, let alone reciting an incantation.

And on top of that –

"Wait...! W-why, this disease is supposed to be...!" Gordan, who was supposed to have made a complete recovery, began coughing violently once more.