Chapter 103: Reassembly of Faith (2) |
# Reassembly of Faith (2)
*
Proving the existence of germs is no simple matter.
Just point a microscope at it and you're done, right?
If it were that easy, someone would have found them long ago.
This world has microscopes, albeit imperfect ones.
And in a world like that, there was a reason I kept putting off the discovery of germs, again and again.
First and foremost: the state of the microscopes is a serious problem.
People living in the 21st century tend to picture at least 1080p resolution when they think of a microscope.
The resolution of this era is 240p—the kind that makes a visceral curse rise up from your gut just looking at it.
You simply cannot tell what's a germ, what's light bleed, and what's a stain.
The second problem is staining.
Germs cannot be identified by their appearance alone.
Germs are fundamentally transparent, you see.
A microscope that's already barely functional, and transparent germs on top of that.
Combine those two factors, and even I couldn't conduct germ research.
'That's why I needed to find a way to improve the microscope's resolution and a staining method...'
Those conditions had only recently been met.
The answer lay in the methods my parents had devised for observing microorganisms.
'I never imagined they'd pull off a feat of strength like that using magic instead of a microscope.'
Among divine magic, there exists a Life Force Sensing Ability.
As could be seen from the Holy Knights who used it during the Overpass Collapse Incident to rescue survivors—
it's a versatile magic, useful for everything from lifesaving to assassin detection.
My parents had slightly adjusted that magic to detect the faint life force of microorganisms.
My plan was to convert this divine magic into something usable.
By compensating for the inadequate resolution and light bleed using this magic, I could observe germs.
And for that purpose, I summoned my Teacher.
"Teacher. It's been a while since I've had material worth researching."
Help me, Great Sage-aemon.
"I intend to convert a divine magic spell into a general magic one. I'll need your assistance for that."
I'm a specialist in black magic.
A complete novice when it comes to other branches, you see.
That's why I'd asked my Teacher for help.
Before he'd met me, he had been the sort to turn divine magic inside out just for the fun of it—I was fairly certain he'd accept without hesitation.
"All magic, including divine magic, was ultimately built upon the framework you established, Teacher. I'd like you to convert it into a form usable by wizards and healers alike."
I held out a ginger biscuit—his favorite—as I made my request.
But his response was nothing like what I'd expected.
"Hmm. No."
"...?!"
Good heavens.
Could it be that the research topic I'd brought wasn't interesting enough for him?
Just as I was about to think that—
"Why would I research a spell that's already five hundred years old?"
He made it clear that wasn't the issue at all.
"That branch of magic has already been refined by the Magic Tower of the 11th Month. They know it better than I do at this point."
The Magic Tower of the 11th Month.
A magic tower specializing in observation and communication-related magic.
I'd known that moving pictures in newspapers, long-distance communication crystal orbs, and telepathy magic were among their primary research subjects—but this?
"They have something like that too?"
"The life-sensing magic used by priests split off from an ancient incantation a thousand years ago—it's a branch of divine magic. No need to reinvent the wheel when the original is right here."
The Beast's Eye wasn't simply a magic that mimicked animal eyes.
Like a falcon soaring high above, singling out a rabbit from among all the countless creatures below—
it was closer to a filter: lock onto one target, and screen for it specifically.
'I had no idea it already existed.'
That was outside my field, so not knowing was only natural.
What I knew was the basics of magic and advanced black magic—ignorance in other areas came with the territory.
"I'll connect you with your senior brother. Work things out with him and adjust the magic to fit your needs."
"Is it possible to see things invisible to the human eye?"
"You mean a bee's eye? A bird's eye?"
Things were working out more simply than I'd anticipated.
In a better direction than I'd hoped, actually.
Animals see things humans cannot.
If magic could replicate that—then perhaps an infrared microscope wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility.
"Thank you, Teacher."
"And yet..."
My Teacher stroked his beard as he spoke.
"The fact that you've suddenly taken an interest in Beast's Eye Lineage Magic—does that mean there's something specific you're trying to discover?"
I gave a nod.
As it happened, I'd already prepared a lie for this very moment.
"Recently, through a fortunate connection, I was able to recover my parents' research journal. In the process, I noticed something rather odd, and I'd like to look into it more carefully."
Same as with Viagra.
For a discovery to feel natural, an appropriate backstory is essential.
Like stumbling upon an aphrodisiac while trying to develop heart medicine.
Or witnessing the devastation in the South and being moved to develop a treatment for malaria.
Every discovery and invention needed a narrative to go along with it.
So I'd prepared a story for the discovery of germs as well.
"My parents' research journal documented parasites in great detail—but certain organisms kept catching my eye that seemed too strange to classify as parasites."
This time, I'd decided to push the angle that I'd stumbled upon germs by chance while researching parasites.
"So in order to observe those parasites more clearly, I need those spells."
"Para... sites...?"
But my Teacher's reaction was strange.
"You said you wanted to examine parasites?"
"Yes. Is there some problem?"
"Mmm..."
My Teacher let out a low groan, eyeing me sideways.
He seemed to mull something over at length before shaking his head.
"Right... I decided to trust you..."
He muttered something to himself—then, as if having made up his mind, raised his head and spoke.
"Originally, within black magic, there existed something called Parasite Magic."
"...Existed, you said?"
"That's right. The lineage has nearly died out by now."
On the day the Magic Tower of the 13th Month fell—
only three forms of magic had been left behind in the world.
Curse magic, which brought plague and misfortune.
Mind-controlling Hypnosis Magic.
Soul-Controlling Necromancy.
But originally, the Magic Tower of the 13th Month had housed far more diverse sub-departments.
"Parasite Magic is a branch of magic that uses parasites as a catalyst. It was also a newly established department, founded just a few years before the Magic Tower of the 13th Month was destroyed."
By the time my Teacher had destroyed it, the research had barely gotten off the ground—so calling it a proper department was almost generous, he said.
"But in that brief history, Parasite Magic unleashed a catastrophe unlike anything the other branches of black magic could compare to."
"What catastrophe?"
"Do you know of the event three hundred years ago when a knight kingdom in the West was destroyed?"
"Yes. Destroyed by Pale Walkers."
Pale Walkers.
This world's zombies.
Those zombies. The kind that run, infect you with a bite, are disturbingly intelligent, and occasionally throw out mutant variants that wield tentacles.
'Come to think of it, if they can run, shouldn't they be Pale Runners rather than Pale Walkers?'
But that wasn't what mattered right now.
The danger level of a Pale Walker is in an entirely different league from a Ghoul, naturally.
Ghouls don't infect you with a bite.
Mutant variants don't appear frequently.
Their high point doesn't come close to that of a Pale Walker.
Small wonder that when a Ghoul outbreak occurs within this city, soldiers react with indifference—
but even a single Pale Walker is enough to deploy a Knight Order.
"The thing that created those Pale Walkers was Parasite Magic."
"...What?"
"That's why I didn't teach it to you—it's a Forbidden Technique."
What the heck.
So this world's zombies aren't infected by a virus—they're infected by parasites?
That was something I hadn't known at all.
Because to the public, Pale Walkers were understood to occur naturally, much like Ghouls.
But the reality was the furthest thing from natural—they were humanity's own creation.
"The creation of the Magic Tower of the 13th Month. Because of them, the West is still a land of Pale Walkers and undead. That's why I burned every last trace of Parasite Magic."
Being a relatively new department at the time, and with only a small number of successors, eliminating them hadn't been particularly difficult, he said.
"Even now, black sorcerers are working to revive the lineage of Parasitemancers, but it seems they aren't making much headway."
"Is it really that difficult?"
"Extremely so."
My Teacher nodded.
"Do you know what became of the black sorcerers who created the Pale Walkers?"
"Did you punish them, Teacher?"
"No. They lost control and became Pale Walkers themselves."
Aha...
"Parasite Magic is an uncontrollable magic. Parasites have an instinct to spread themselves—and so they attack any caster who hasn't been infected."
The moment I heard that, one solution immediately came to mind.
Then couldn't you just infect yourself with the parasites first?
But I shook my head.
You'd die that way. What would be the point?
If there were any real possibility, it would be—
'Taking potions or periodically casting Heal on yourself to endure the parasites and spread the infection around...'
Though that's no way for a human being to live either.
No one would do that unless they were utterly unhinged.
"Beyond that, the only way to accelerate parasite growth is divine magic—but there's no chance any priest would ever sanction that. So Parasite Magic is in an environment where research is practically impossible in this day and age."
Before Parasite Magic became taboo—
the Parasitemancers of that era had apparently conducted their research with the cooperation of healing priests.
But now that it was forbidden—
there were almost no one who could research parasites while evading the eyes of the healing priests.
True enough.
Anyone other than a healing priest, that is.
"I see."
"..."
In silence, I met my Teacher's single remaining eye.
That alone was enough to tell me why he'd chosen to share this with me.
"My parents were researching parasites specifically in order to treat them. And I am carrying on that work."
"I know. Your parents said exactly the same thing."
"Pardon?"
My parents had met my Teacher as well?
"Parasite research is black magic research. It goes without saying that it must be reported to the Magic Management Bureau. Your parents' eligibility screening was conducted by me personally."
My Teacher nodded, unhurried.
"Come to think of it—your eyes resemble your father's."
"...I've been told more often that I resemble my mother."
"Ahem. I meet far too many people. I got confused."
It seemed that to my Teacher, a Great Sage, my parents had been no more than one brilliant pair among the many he had encountered.
"I told them the same thing back then. To know a taboo is to know how not to cross it—isn't that right?"
"Every word of that is correct, Teacher."
My Teacher was not the type to seal off taboos entirely.
If he were, he'd have driven a meteorite into anyone who came to him saying they wanted to research parasites—before the conversation even got started.
And long before that, he certainly wouldn't have been so delighted when I was conducting vaccine research, which was essentially plague curse incarnate.
"Even so, be careful. Those people fell because of the arrogance of believing they would remain untouched forever."
"I will take that to heart."
"Good. Keep that in mind, and continue your parasite research."
"Thank you, Teacher. Then—when should I contact my senior brother?"
"The day after tomorrow. He still won't know you're my disciple, so treat him as the Black Saint."
"Understood."
Even to the very end, my Teacher looked after his disciple with meticulous care.
"And... if you discover something new, call me first."
"I will, without fail."
Not that I needed to be told.
Because in the end, what would be discovered wasn't parasites—it was germs.
Once the germ research was complete, academia would be turned on its head.
'Because the plague curses that had vaguely used filthy, ill-omened objects as catalysts would suddenly skyrocket in value too.'
A plague caster carrying germs in clear water...
My word. How would you even counter something like that?
'Before I make any discoveries, I'll have to say something to Teacher first.'
For now, this was a period when I needed to know nothing of germs—so I had no choice but to stay silent.
But when the time came, Teacher would be the first one I told.
Because the last thing I wanted was to earn suspicion and end up like the Magic Tower of the 13th Month.
*
Several days passed after that.
When there were lectures, to the Academy.
When there weren't, I'd leave Perisia as my substitute and go as Director Schun.
Days of traveling back and forth between Academy Territory and the Capital, performing two different identities.
In the middle of deep research into staining reagents in Sector D-4—
Simeon spoke to me.
"Pardon the interruption, Lord Saint."
"Yes, go ahead."
"Is there any chance we could increase the dosage?"
"No, Brother."
"Boo..."
Simeon wilted at my firm reply.
He rubbed his stomach, as though a dull ache was beginning to set in.
At present, Simeon was receiving parasite treatment from me.
A pilgrim indeed.
He'd been carrying every variety of parasite imaginable.
Goodness, what on earth had he been eating out there?
"Masters Schnabel used much higher doses..."
"They used high doses—and that's precisely why the toxicity was so severe."
My parents had used Male fern as one of their parasite medicines.
The effects of Male fern were unambiguous.
The parasites died off wholesale.
The only minor side effects being vision loss, coma, and muscle weakness.
'On top of that, the dosage instructions were wrong as well.'
Perhaps because divine magic that could fix things in seconds existed in this world—
this era had no concept of slow, gradual treatment over several days.
A potion was naturally expected to cure things within an hour, and if several days had passed, the thinking of the time was simply that the initial dose of the potion had been insufficient.
'That's exactly why Wangcho swallowed all his gout medicine at once the moment he got it.'
There's a reason I insisted that only trained healers be permitted to administer medicines.
Quinine, Insulin, and all the other drugs—
even now, there were far too many patients who considered it common sense to use up an entire week's supply in a single day.
My parents were no exception to that common sense.
'Even I was alarmed when I read that they'd been using that much Male fern.'
The Schnabel couple's parasite treatment was straightforward.
1. Administer Male fern until the patient is reduced to a semi-comatose state.
2. Cast Heal without delay on the person with one foot in the afterlife.
3. The next day, flush the dead parasites out with a Diarrhea Potion—and voilà, treatment complete.
'They are my parents, but this is far too macho of a method...'
Chop the arm off as fast as possible and regenerate it—just like the standard treatment protocol.
My parents were quite bold as well.
'No wonder this never took hold as the official treatment for parasites...'
One wrong step on the tightrope and the patient dies instantly.
A slip means not a coma, but a direct trip to the afterlife.
So healers who attempted this treatment without having trained under my parents would have simply killed their patients—
and as those cases piled up, the consensus would have settled on calling it complete nonsense.
'Not wrong, exactly... but it was far too reckless...'
Quinine administered that way would kill a person outright as well.
Still, the solution to these problems is surprisingly simple.
Split a single day's dose into a week's worth, and administer it gradually.
One might ask who could possibly fail to think of something so obvious—
'I'm honestly curious too. Why hadn't anyone thought of it?'
Damage Control Surgery, Tapering Therapy—
an era where romance lives and breathes is full of places where it diverges from the common sense of a modern person.
But enough of that tangent.
"Simeon, it's been about a week now. Are parasites still appearing in your stool?"
"They still are..."
"These parasites have quite the tenacious grip on life."
The downside, however, was that the medicinal effect was somewhat weak.
The toxicity of Male fern was so extreme that when I moderated it to a level that wouldn't harm a person, it also ended up being a bit less effective against the parasites.
This is precisely why a good medicine is not a strong medicine—but one that selectively targets only what you want to destroy.
'Ah... I miss 21st-century parasite medicine...'
Those would kill only the parasites and have someone cured within three days.
The primitive parasite medicine was simply too difficult to calibrate.
"Lord Saint. I'm quite all right. If I think of it as falling asleep for a little while, I could manage an increased dose—"
"Simeon. Side effects are not something to accept—they're something to avoid."
Good grief.
This romance-filled dark fantasy world.
Treating a coma as though it were simply a few days of sleep.
"Until I find a new medicine, I'll continue treating you with Male fern."
And besides, the parasites right now aren't limited to just the one.
Given the current symptoms, it appeared there were other parasites beyond the ones in the intestines as well.
Simeon's body was nothing short of a treasure trove of parasites.
"You lived far too dangerously outside the Wall. It's a miracle you're still alive."
"Ha-ha..."
Simeon laughed a dry laugh.
"I won't do that ever again."
"And you'd better not. Considering I'm the one treating you."
But every time, the same feeling.
The people of this era have a very different idea of common sense from mine—far too different.
