Chapter 93 – The Priest's Plan
If the Allard could secure a new Trait, they would gain far greater influence in the South.
There was another crucial reason: the sealing ritual itself weakened the power of the Traits. If another family claimed one, they might refuse to participate in the ritual—jeopardizing everything.
That was why both the Allard and the Coopers fought so fiercely for control of the Traits, ensuring the ritual could still proceed.
"So that means you're bound to make a lot of enemies," Gideon said, rubbing his chin.
Everyone had their own greed—and a Trait was worth more than gold.
Sadie gave a wry smile and nodded.
"Exactly. That's why we fight so hard to claim one, and why every other hunter watches us with suspicion."
Gideon didn't bother asking why they didn't just ally with the Coopers. He could guess the answer—those two families would kill each other before sharing a Trait.
Instead, he turned to practical matters. "What about the Cooper hounds? Can poison kill them?"
Sadie shook her head.
"Not easily. Every Cooper hound is rigorously tested at birth—size, ferocity, resistance to toxins. Only those that survive earn the right to breed. After generations, their bloodline is immune to nearly every poison. Unless the venom comes directly from the Plague Zone."
Gideon stroked his jaw thoughtfully.
In that case… his plan would need some adjustments.
Sadie then explained their strategy for entering the Plague Zone.
They would need to locate monster lairs. By defeating the creatures within, they could gather fragments of clues that might point to a Trait's location.
This was the most dangerous stage.
Traps, ambushes, betrayal—every clue-holder would become a target. Even before leaving the Plague Zone, they'd be hunted relentlessly.
And that wasn't even counting the ever-present monsters, or the treacherous toxic mists.
That was what Blackwater Hearts and Swamp Leaves were for.
But Traits always lay deep within the Plague Zone. Staying there for days was unavoidable. And even a Blackwater Heart, the strongest protection available, could only shield someone for a single day.
That was why hunters first sought Oases—pockets of safe land where the air matched the outside world.
Sadie unfurled a map.
"These are the oases our family charted. Some may have vanished, but others have lasted decades. We'll need to follow a fixed route, or risk being stranded without shelter."
The oases replenished their supplies of Blackwater Hearts and Swamp Leaves.
But the Allard weren't the only ones with maps. Other families knew the locations too.
And because each oasis had limited clean air, if too many gathered—or if it was used up—the oasis would vanish.
That made them prime battlegrounds.
Gideon narrowed his eyes. The more he listened, the more it sounded familiar. Hunters fighting for resources, alliances crumbling, last-man-standing survival…
This was a death match.
"And the final exit?" Gideon asked suddenly.
Sadie blinked, surprised he knew to ask.
"If the seal remains stable, there's always a fixed gateway. The tribes created it so humans could harness the Plague Zone' resources.
"But when the seal weakens, that gateway floods with toxic miasma. That's why every decade, hunters enter early."
Her tone grew heavy.
"This time, the High Shaman has already calculated the window. Two days from now, the seal will waver. That's when we go in.
"But coming out… that's up to us. When the seal falters, new safe zones emerge—the extraction points. That's where we have to escape.
"Once a Trait is claimed, the oases begin to fade. And worse monsters emerge. If you can't find the extraction point in time… you stay there forever, until you become one of them."
Gideon nodded grimly. No, this wasn't going to be simple at all.
From what he'd heard, the Cooper clan—with their hounds—were easily the strongest contenders for the Trait.
The other two suspicious families—the Benecks and the Stuarts—were less aggressive.
The Benecks ran infirmaries. Even if opposed, they left enemies alive—they had too many patients depending on them. They seemed more invested in "participating" than winning, which spared them many rivals.
The Stuarts were different. Descendants of the First Men, they had survived in the South for centuries. They knew the land better than anyone and rarely showed themselves in public. Tracking them was almost impossible.
And besides those three, there were the Hunters' Association and countless smaller clans.
They fought separately—but if pushed by a common threat like the Coopers, they might unite.
In the end, it seemed the Allard family had the most enemies of all.
They'd grown too quickly. Everyone could guess they possessed a Trait, and their modified ammunition was loud enough to give away their position before they even engaged. Add to that the constant pressure from the Coopers, and the odds looked grim.
Gideon's mouth twitched.
What kind of commission did I accept this time…?
He turned and met Sadie's clear, trusting eyes.
"Every time your family joins the sealing ritual, it must be rough, right?" he asked with a sidelong glance.
Sadie nodded firmly. "Yes! Very."
Gideon nearly choked.
Does this woman have no self-awareness at all?
No—if they stuck to the Allard' usual methods, this expedition would be just as grueling as the last. And Gideon had no intention of being ambushed while gathering herbs… or worse, trying to "redeem" some monster.
His eyes narrowed as an idea sparked.
"You have poisons here, right? The kind that don't kill, but take effect quickly?"
Sadie blinked, unsettled by his stare. "We do… but Cooper hounds aren't affected by—"
"Exactly." Gideon cut her off.
"The hounds are immune. But people? People can't resist everything."
He lowered his voice and shot her a look that said, You get what I mean.
Sadie swallowed hard. "Isn't… isn't that a little underhanded? Hunters fight each other, yes, but in the Plague Zone there are monsters we can only face together."
"That's why I said 'non-lethal' poisons." Gideon shrugged innocently.
"But if we're caught, we'll make even more enemies," Sadie pressed, still worried.
"That's why," Gideon said with a small, confident smile, "we just have to make sure no one catches us."
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
It was the butler, Bazel. "Miss Sadie, Father Gideon—the Association has sent an invitation." He handed over a sealed letter.
"They say Saint Fréyan only avoided disaster thanks to Father Gideon's intervention. To express their gratitude, they're holding a banquet tonight at the Dead Dog Tavern—and they wish to invite the good Father as guest of honor."
Gideon's eyes lit up.
Well, well. Opportunity knocks.