Bloodletting Therapy

Lake Onyx Town lay in the heartland of the Grand Duchy.

Dressed in coarse burlap, Reilo curled up against the biting wind from the Far North. Dazed, he left the church, wondering how he would face his father's disappointment when he got home.

He was dejected and heartbroken.

Without realizing it, Reilo arrived before Bob's Bakery and stood at the back of the line.

Looking up, Reilo gazed at the Two-headed Parrot in the cage by the entrance.

"Hey, you glutton, can't you eat less? All you do every day is eat! It's because of you that I got so fat! Can't you eat less?"

The other head, which was pecking at bread crumbs, snapped back, "Shut up, you nag. Keep yapping and I'll peck you to death."

Intimidated by the bread-eating head's glare, the nagging head shrank its neck. When it turned around, it noticed Reilo staring blankly at it and snapped irritably, "What are you looking at, your father? Never seen such a handsome Tihuo Parrot?"

Black lines appeared across Reilo's forehead.

Fortunately, the number of people ahead of him buying bread dwindled, and soon it was Reilo's turn.

The bakery owner was a tall, massive fat man with a face covered in a thick beard. Looking down on the customers choosing bread before him, he was Bob—the Gentleman of Light in town, who had snatched Reilo's Missionary qualification this year by offering gold coins.

Soft, fragrant white bread sat behind the glass display. Reilo's stomach growled traitorously, but he could only point helplessly at the pile of black bread beside it. "One kilogram of black bread."

Taking the twenty copper coins Reilo handed over, Bob casually pulled out a cold, hard loaf of black bread. His gaze passed over Reilo and shifted to the person behind him.

Reilo took the black bread and hugged it tightly to his chest, hoping his body heat would soften it a little. Curling up against the biting wind, he ran home.

Creak.

After shutting the wooden door, Reilo took the black bread from his chest and hung it on the wall. He added two logs to the fire, and the warm firelight made him shiver twice despite himself.

Cough, cough, cough.

His father looked at Reilo from the sickbed and struggled to assume a praying posture. In a low voice, he said, "Thank the God of Light for bringing my son safely home."

"Father."

The smell of blood was thick in the room. Reilo looked at his father, who was receiving Bloodletting Therapy, then turned to the Doctor watching intently. "Doctor, how is my father?"

Using a syringe, the Doctor drained blood from his father's body into a wooden basin.

Drip, drip. The blood continued to flow, as though only this could remove the filth within his body, allowing Pious Faith to create new blood and overcome the illness.

In this era, Bloodletting Therapy was the universal treatment of all village and town doctors. For commoners in remote regions who could not afford a priest to cast Blessing of Light, it was also their only treatment.

The Doctor wiped the bloody needle and said calmly, "I have released the filth from his body. Now, it depends on whether his faith in the Lord is devout enough."

"Father will definitely recover!"

Reilo said firmly.

The Doctor said nothing more, took his silver coins, and left the wooden house.

Reilo's Father was a well-known hunter in town. Only because of that could he spend silver coins to let Reilo study reading and writing at The Church and attempt to earn the qualifications of a Missionary.

Unfortunately, his father had suffered a Devil Beast Attack that autumn. The wound had refused to heal after he returned. Even after several Bloodletting Therapy sessions, his injury had not improved, and his body had instead grown weaker and weaker. Many townspeople secretly said it was because his faith in the God of Light was not devout enough.

That was also why Reilo had begged the Priest to make him a Missionary, to prove that his father was a devout believer in the God of Light.

"How did the assessment go?"

The room was oppressively silent, with only the crackling of the fire.

Faced with his father's question, Reilo did not answer. He did not dare look into his father's disappointed eyes.

He silently busied himself, pouring out his father's foul blood from the wooden basin. Then he returned to his room, shut the door, and sat on the bed. Only then, overcome by guilt toward his father, did he begin to cry in sorrow, blaming himself for failing to become a Cleric and earn Mercy of the God of Light for his father.

Reilo stretched out his hands and stared blankly as faint threads of warm light gradually emerged from his palms.

The Power of Prayer was also called the Power of Light.

The God of Light was no ethereal legend. Every devout believer could sense its existence, and some Clerics could even summon part of its power into the mortal world. This was what people commonly called the Power of Light—blessing arts.

The only way to summon this power was through Pious Faith.

By continuously expanding the number of believers and guiding lost people into Faith of Light, one could gain greater favor from the God of Light.

Humanity lived in a region called Starveil Land, where there were many duchies. Besides the God of Light, there were also many local gods, but they were all subordinate gods of the God of Light.

Near humanity's many duchies lived several familiar nonhuman races, including Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes, and Barbarians. Most had already been incorporated into humanity's system of rules, mingling with one another without conflict in their beliefs.

Yet beyond the vast Furnace Desert lay a terrifying region known as Night's Veil Land, home to a group of dreadful Heretical Creatures. Humanity knew little of that place, only that it was an evil land against which every Pope, upon taking the throne, would launch a Crusaders expedition.

Beyond that, pirates passed down tales of a vast continent ruled by other intelligent beings in the depths of the boundless seas, where terrifying Giant Sea Creatures ran rampant. Some even claimed to have seen cities floating in the sky, though such stories were later dismissed as nonsense.

Still, it was true that the ocean depths were inhabited by terrifying creatures beyond anything ordinary people could imagine.

Rousing himself from his daze, Reilo watched the light in his hands gradually fade and panted faintly in exhaustion.

For mortals, summoning Divine Power was an enormous burden on the body. Although the tiny amount Reilo had summoned possessed virtually no combat ability and could not cast blessings, serving only to demonstrate the God of Light's existence before ignorant people without faith, soothe their hearts, and spread the faith, it still left Reilo feeling weary.

One could only imagine the burden borne by each Pope when summoning the divine power of the God of Light.

Shaking his head to drive away his fatigue, Reilo took out Festival of Light and recited it over and over, constantly strengthening his faith.

"The God of Light, the Creator, created Heaven. The humans living in Heaven opened the Original Sin Box because of their desires, causing humanity to fall into the box and arrive in the Star Curtain World. Only through selfless devotion to the light and completing their own salvation could they return to Heaven..."

"Reilo!"

His father's call came from outside. Reilo, who had been reciting Festival of Light, hurriedly rose and ran toward his father's room.

"Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough."

His father sat upright against the bed, with several items neatly arranged on the blankets.

By the firelight, Reilo saw that they were a book, a strange necklace, and a badge.

Reilo supported his father and complained, "You should be resting more."

His father was a stubborn man. Though his body had become terribly frail after several Bloodletting Therapy sessions, and he trembled even while sitting on the bed, the stubbornness in his eyes remained. In a low voice, he said, "I know my own body. I won't make it through this winter."

"No! The merciful God of Light will surely take pity on your Pious Faith. Even if many people in town misunderstand you, the God of Light knows your devotion!"

Reilo had always done everything he could to avoid this subject.

Instead, his father's gaze toward Reilo became softer and more loving than ever, as though he were looking at his dying beloved from seventeen years ago.

"Your mother was the most devout believer in the God of Light in this world, and the most beautiful woman in this world. She devoted everything to the God of Light she believed in. In her final moments during a difficult birth, she chose self-sacrifice, giving up her life and leaving all her love to you."

Reilo lowered his head and said nothing.

For seventeen years, Reilo had never celebrated a birthday, because that day was also the anniversary of his mother's death.

"As for me... Heh, the God of Light's mercy?"

Suddenly, his father's dignified, devout face twisted into painful self-mockery. Tears streamed down his face as he looked at Reilo, filled with guilt.

"Why would the great God of Light show mercy to a Descendant of a Witcher with the filthiest bloodline in the world flowing through his veins?"

A Witcher?

Hadn't such things long ago been nailed to crosses and burned to death by The Church, becoming nothing more than legend?

Reilo stared at his father in disbelief. Was this really the father who thanked the God of Light even when Reilo returned home safely? He was actually saying that he was descended from Witchers!

"You heard correctly, Reilo. You and my ancestors were the Witchers of that dark age—the ones who spread the Black Death across the world, unleashing terror and devastation, until The Church nailed them one by one to crosses for judgment by Execution by Fire!"

Thud, thud, thud, thud!

Reilo stumbled backward again and again, constantly denying his father's words. He was a devout believer in the God of Light—how could he possibly be connected to Witchers? It was impossible!

Legend had it...

It was a dark age when the land was shrouded in death and terror. The Witchers wielded power that ordinary people could scarcely resist. They collected children's blood and eyes for evil experiments. They attacked every Cleric of The Church without restraint. At the height of that dark and terrifying era, they even unleashed a plague of death. The horrifying Black Death ravaged the land, once driving humanity to the brink of extinction!

Cities were strewn with corpses, and fewer than one in ten survived in villages.

Only later, as Witcher after Witcher was nailed to a cross by The Church, cursing everyone until roaring flames consumed their bodies and their shrill wails lingered for ages, did humanity gradually survive and multiply, establishing duchy after duchy.

"That can't be!"

Reilo's face turned pale.

"Cough, cough, cough, cough! I once questioned my father too. He left behind only one sentence."

As his father coughed, an unnatural flush appeared on his face. Struggling, he said, "This place will never be our home!"

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