I Really Didn't Do It On Purpose

The once bustling streets were now a dense carpet of corpses lying on the ground as far as the eye could see.

The deaths of so many beings in such a short time had caused the environment to be flooded with negative energy, and some of the fallen bodies soon rose again to become terrifying undead creatures.

Warriors, knights, and spellcasters who had held high professional levels in life were evolving even further.

The peaks of the once towering magical towers no longer shimmered with dazzling, colorful auras.

Either they had been overrun by countless undead, which had mercilessly slaughtered all living beings within, leaving the entire tower to be consumed by the negative energy symbolizing decay and death;

Or the mages within the magical towers had proactively sealed themselves off from all contact with the outside world, hiding in their final fortresses and trembling, barely surviving on stored provisions.

They no longer dared to conduct various magical experiments with impunity as they had before.

As for escaping to other places via teleportation portals…

Sorry, that was no longer possible.

Because fourteen days ago, a gravely ill Archmage, believing the situation was beyond recovery, had used the power of the central tower to unleash an incredibly powerful containment spell.

The entire city had been completely locked in place, suspended four thousand meters above the ground.

All teleportation magic, flight magic, and spells to slow descent were rendered ineffective.

Even birds that accidentally entered the spell's range would immediately plummet vertically from the sky and die upon impact.

And the most terrifying part was that the spell's duration was one hundred years!

This meant that no one could escape.

The survivors who hadn't yet died, unless they could find a way to live for a hundred years, would only starve, die of thirst, or die of old age.

Of course, if they found dying in such a manner not sufficiently heroic or thrilling, they could also choose to charge into the streets to fight the undead, or jump from a height of four thousand meters.

This was Plentia Sky City, the first sky city built by the Archmages in unison, and also the center and pride of the Aer Magic Civilization.

But now, it was merely a city on the brink of destruction.

In fact, it wasn't just Plentia Sky City; similar events were happening in cities and villages on the ground.

This inexplicably appearing terrifying plague had swept across the entire continent in just over a month.

Whether it was the "elite" spellcasters living within the sky city, or the warriors, knights, mercenaries, merchants, and slaves residing on the ground who served the spellcasters, none had escaped.

No one knew the source of the plague, nor did anyone know how to treat it.

All the Necromancers knew was that this terrifying plague constantly mutated and evolved.

All treatments could only temporarily alleviate the symptoms!

And then, before long, it would erupt again in a more ferocious manner!

Even potions and spells that were once reputed to cure all diseases only had a slight effect in the very beginning.

But soon, death, like a sweeping storm, killed tens of thousands of people in a very short period.

Even many Archmages, who were as lofty as gods, died from the plague.

Panic!

Fear!

Despair!

As it developed, social order had long since completely collapsed.

The very few lucky survivors still alive on the ground had all fled into the deep mountains and forests.

Some even took to boats, intending to seek refuge on other islands and lands still in a primitive state, physically isolating themselves from contact with the plague.

In short, the powerful magical civilization that the Aer people had built over more than two thousand five hundred years was now heading towards extinction under the ravages of the plague.

Even if the escaping immigrants eventually survived, they likely wouldn't have the courage to set foot on this land again.

Much less be able to recreate the past glory and prosperity with the limited knowledge and resources they possessed.

However, the mages who fled the sky city would probably never imagine that the ultimate source of this civilization-destroying disaster was, in the final analysis, merely the result of a sneeze from a certain transmigrator from Earth who accidentally caught a cold.

Yes!

Just a tiny sneeze!

Unlike most soul transmigrators, Zuo Si was a standard physical body transmigrator.

Judging by the destructive power of this plague, his body was definitely not sterilized when he transmigrated, carrying a large number of terrifying viruses and bacteria from Earth.

And these viruses and bacteria, after arriving in this new world, combined with magical energy and underwent some unknown mutation.

One day, more than two months ago, Zuo Si was working tirelessly for over forty hours during the process of creating a magical artifact.

Finally, as expected, he caught a cold due to exposure to the chill and excessive fatigue, lacking rest, and fell ill.

As everyone knows, colds cause sneezing and runny noses.

Sneezing, in particular, spreads a large amount of droplet-containing bacteria and viruses into the air, forming the initial widespread infection.

All unfortunate beings who came into contact with these droplets automatically became virus carriers, and then unknowingly infected more people.

Furthermore, the inhabitants of this other world had never been exposed to the mutated viruses and bacteria from Earth, let alone developed any immunity or antibodies.

As a result, a disaster erupted without any warning.

Looking at the dissection table in the basement used for necromancy experiments, and the corpse on it that had just been disemboweled, was still bleeding, and emitting a pungent stench.

Zuo Si, who was only about 1.3 meters tall, resembling a child of around ten years old, couldn't help but sigh slightly. He put down the scalpel, stepped onto a stool to access the tower's limited water reserves, washed the bloodstains from his hands, disinfected himself with high-concentration alcohol, and then opened a diary to begin recording in his slightly messy block characters.

"Solar Calendar 2535, August 12th. The weather is a bit gloomy.

It's been about a month and a half since the plague broke out.

It's also been one year, nine months, and fourteen days since I arrived in this magical world.

There are not many living beings left in Plentia Sky City.

Due to the rapid death of so many lives in such a short period, this city, which stands in the sky, is transforming into a city of the dead at an unimaginable speed.

Even the proportion of negative energy in the environment is increasing exponentially.

It's foreseeable that it won't be long before this place is no longer habitable for the living, but will completely become a paradise for undead creatures.

According to the conclusions drawn from the last dissection and observation of the corpses.

This plague is likely not caused by one mutated virus or bacterium, but by several, a dozen, dozens, or even hundreds or thousands of them.

This is also why the magic potions, which were said to be able to cure almost all diseases, quickly became completely ineffective.

On the surface of some of the deceased, large patches of blisters, similar to smallpox and chickenpox, had appeared, their density enough to make one's scalp tingle.

Others suffered severe organ failure, accompanied by the collapse of their respiratory systems, even the alveoli had completely rotted away.

The digestive system, including the stomach and intestines, was covered in black spots that I had never seen before, likely the result of bacterial action.

These spots stole the nutrients that should have been absorbed by the body, causing the victim's body to become weaker and weaker, and spreading uncontrollably within the body like cancer cells.

Even more terrifyingly, corpses that had been dead for many days could still act as sources of infection for a long time after they reanimated as undead.

This meant that the mutated bacteria and viruses did not die with their hosts.

They had adapted to this magical world, becoming ten thousand times more terrifying than they were on Earth.

Everyone in the tower where I reside, whether it was the apprentices, warriors, knights, and slaves on the middle floors, or the various monsters and beasts in the dungeons, had all died.

Only I and the female red dragon I captured from the other side of the portal, who has been confined to the lowest level and completely isolated from the outside world—Vermes—are still alive.

As for my mentor and collaborator, the owner of this tower, and the chief archmage of the Necromancy faction of the Magic Council—Astar—he disappeared long before the plague broke out.

I suspect he took the notes he snatched from an old mage on the continent of Faerûn and is hiding in an unknown place, attempting to transform his aged body into an immortal and powerful spellcaster—a lich—through a cruel and terrifying magical ritual.

Of course, none of that matters anymore.

In any case, the Sky City has been completely sealed off by magic; no one inside can get out, and no one outside can get in.

Furthermore, there is nothing left to eat in the tower.

The food storage was contaminated by negative energy and the corpses of dead slaves.

Fortunately, I already have a plan to escape.

Finally, I want to emphasize that I really didn't intend for this plague to happen.

It was just a terrible accident..."