From the moment the steel gate slammed shut, the entire stone bridge leading to Church Town was engulfed in a silent deathly stillness.
The common folk stared blankly in the direction of Church Town, even the horses pulling the four-wheeled carriages seemed to sense the atmosphere and dared not breathe loudly.
The last glimmer of sunlight sank beneath the outline of Church Town, and due to the backlighting, the entire town’s architecture was cast in a profound black.
The precise technological prowess of Yan’an allowed for the street lamps to light up on time, illuminating the faces on the stone bridge: despair, bewilderment, anger, panic...
Under the flickering lamplight, a businessman sitting on the carriage frame holding the reins unconsciously took off his tall top hat, clutching it to his chest.
"What, what’s happening?"
The hunters pushing the gate gave up despondently, and even those once confident Church personnel responsible for maintaining order outside the door were now, as if infected, filled with the same panic as the refugees.
No one knew how to answer this question.
"The Church... they’ve abandoned us, locked us out!" The businessman’s voice trembled uncontrollably, rising in volume with each quiver.
"They locked the gate! Bolted it shut! Right?!"
The businessman’s questioning sparked a huge commotion among the crowd, and the Church personnel and hunters’ powerless responses only deepened the panic and ensuing anger in people’s hearts.
The situation on the densely populated stone bridge was becoming increasingly chaotic.
Finally, a hysterical scream broke the silence: "Murderers! You’re murderers! Killers!"
A townsman, wielding a bone cleaver usually used at home, charged at the Church personnel guarding the iron gate, maniacal and despairing.
The night of the hunt had begun, and these people exposed on the street were now gripped by fear.
They didn’t care that these Church people were also locked out with them, also victims.
They were merely venting their terror, an innate human nature.
But were the Church personnel left outside in a better mental state than the townsfolk?
With equally ferocious and fearful expressions, a Church member fired his musket, unleashing a silver bullet, bringing the taste of blood and gunpowder.
After a moment of silence, the roar of the crowd, the friction of hunters drawing their weapons, and the startled whinnies of the horses erupted in a cacophony!
The stench of blood thickened.
There were more townsfolk, surging madly; the hunters were stronger, but they were caught in the tide of people, unable to maneuver.
The hunters and the Church personnel bled.
They had received more frequent and higher quality blood treatments than the ordinary townsfolk. This caused those around them to uncontrollably display an entranced expression as their blood flowed.
The blood was accumulating, the scent intensifying.
Ah, blood. Sweet blood, vibrant blood...
It seemed as if a melodious note was spontaneously singing in people’s minds.
The increasingly accumulating blood seemed to produce a stacking effect.
"Shit! Follow me, Mark!"
Henrik’s skill in hunting was exquisite and fluent, handling beast-transformed patients with ease, and appeared more intimidating when facing humans.
Compared to those hunters with less proficiency, though he had a gash on his arm and a pitchfork wound through his stomach, it was nothing significant.
He successfully dragged his old friend Mark through to the outskirts of the chaotic crowd, seeing that they were about to break free.
Panting heavily, the Old Hunter’s breath even formed a white mist in the air from his lungs.
His gaze was sharp and vigilant, scanning around the battlefield, ready to find a weak point to break through.
He reached behind to pull the slightly slower Mark to his side.
It’s just like... the situation before him, his and Mark’s predicament... everything was reminiscent of Old Yan’an decades ago.
Back then, the two young men supported each other to squeeze through the crack in the gate and escape the inferno of Old Yan’an into Church Town.
This time they surely could...
The Old Hunter, in a highly vigilant combat state, suddenly froze.
Along with the words of his old friend was the bristly, grass-like hand he held onto...
Henrik was a master at hunting beasts, and his colleagues even largely believed that he would not die in a hunt due to his too exquisite skills.
So even through a layer of thick leather gloves, he understood clearly: this was not a human hand, or rather, this was not the hand of a normal person.
... Advanced beast transformation.
This was a hand of a patient at a very advanced stage of the beastly affliction!
"The transformation begins, the hunt begins, Henrik."
The voice of his old friend, which once brought familiarity and assurance, was gradually twisting, distorting.
Henrik didn’t turn back, but he could imagine the scene.
Mark’s skeletal and muscular structure was undergoing a brief yet severe deformation due to the affliction.
The displacement of bones was so intense it could tear muscles, rupture skin.
His voice was altering in tone due to the disease, and soon he would lose even the ability to speak. Content orıginally comes from 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝~𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖~𝕟𝕖𝕥
His originally human eyes would turn sickeningly yellow, while the round pupils would resemble a melting, scattered pool of silver.
A decades-old friend was about to die.
Henrik felt an instant emptiness within; he didn’t want to accept it, nor dared to turn back.
He could only charge forward with his head down, slicing open another maniac with his saw blade.
The blood on the ground thickened yet again.
"Stop talking nonsense! You’re a Church member! No Church member has ever turned into a beast! Mark, never!"
"You just need blood! Need rest! Once we are out, I will give you a shot!"
Henrik kept grasping Mark’s arm, though he was saying that, the arm he clutched was getting thicker, heavier...
The old friend did not refute in his last moments.
He merely spoke in a rough, hoarse voice with a chant-like, difficult murmur.
"Humanity is the shackle that binds beast transformation, but the stronger the humanity, the stronger the counterforce it explodes into when shattered, resulting in... transforming into more terrifying beasts."
"What kind of beast would a Church member turn into, Henrik?"
"Go, old friend. Go to those you care about on this night of the hunt, the one you see as your daughter, the man who married your daughter, and their child... Go."
The arm he held from behind had grown too large to grasp.
Henrik’s face was wooden; he could not imagine what expression he wore.
He could only helplessly let go.
From within the crowd behind, several individuals who appeared completely normal suddenly went berserk. Their bodies underwent the entire process of the beastly affliction in an instant, turning into beasts on all fours.
The sudden violent transformation even caused their original flesh and blood to explode into a mass of pulp, splattering out.
They plunged into the crowd, pouncing and biting at those closest to them, often friends and family.
With claws they tore the tendons of those around them, with teeth they severed the throats of kin and friends...
This wasn’t just the night of the hunt... It was a beastly plague like Old Yan’an decades ago!