A pestilence arrived with such swift ferocity.
When the Plague Aura spread from the "Grotesque・Funerary Beak-Plague Doctor," the first batch of Tiger Warriors who took the brunt didn't feel anything initially.
But they only ran a few more steps. Before they could even charge up the hundreds of steps of the grand staircase to the top of the pyramid,
CHATTER CHATTER CHATTER...
A sudden, fierce chattering of teeth erupted.
The indigenous warriors who had launched the attack immediately sensed something was amiss and stopped in their tracks.
To their horror, they found their bodies involuntarily shaking with chills, followed by high fever, fatigue, headache, and aching limbs.
As their body temperatures soared, an elderly warrior with a weaker constitution convulsed on the spot and collapsed to the ground.
Even if the condition of the others was slightly better, they all lost their ability to fight.
And their symptoms were rapidly worsening, with macules, papules, vesicles, and pustules... they looked utterly terrifying.
Especially at the top of the grand staircase, Montezuma II, who had been injured earlier and whose resistance was weakest, could not withstand this virulent plague despite being non-human.
His face was now covered with pustules; he fell into a coma, his breath faint, and he could die at any moment.
Further away, lamentation was rife among the more than two hundred thousand city-state residents participating in the ritual.
Byron, who had been standing behind Beatrice, on the other hand, was unaffected.
He was now using the body of Falcon Alvin. As a doctor of the Hospital Sequence, he naturally already possessed resistance.
To be more precise, one of the prerequisites for joining the Hospital Sequence was immunity to several infectious diseases.
Beatrice had naturally taken into account whether her own The Skinners' Church could be exempted when she chose smallpox as the medium.
Even though Byron had guessed The Skinners' Church's intentions when he heard about the related Authority of "The Lord of Skins" early on (Chapter 130).
But the dire situation before him still filled him with deep dread:
How cruel! Spreading a virulent plague on Yucatan Island... this is a ploy to use this Grotesque to exterminate all the natives in one fell swoop.
No wonder the King of Castilia didn't authorize Cortes. It's obvious he didn't dare take responsibility for initiating a massacre with taboo knowledge (Chapter 134).
Smallpox was, after all, one of the oldest and deadliest infectious diseases—highly contagious and severe.
Anyone who has never had smallpox could potentially be infected.
Its main manifestation was severe viremia, with a very high mortality rate post-infection.
According to the records in the Library of the Key of Omniscience, during the Old Continent's historical smallpox pandemics, the typical mortality rate was 25%.
But Byron seriously wondered: what would the mortality rate be for natives who had never been exposed to this virus for millennia?
50%? 60%? Or... 80%?!
Meanwhile, the "Sailing Logbook" had successfully read the killing rules of the "Grotesque・Funerary Beak-Plague Doctor."
"Proximity to the source of infection divides areas into: First-Level Epidemic Zone, Second-Level Epidemic Zone, and Third-Level Epidemic Zone, each with different modes of transmission.
First-Level Epidemic Zone: range of fifty meters. Transmission is conceptual, easily breaching a Transcendent's spiritual barrier, triggering immediate onset without delay.
Second-Level Epidemic Zone: range of one kilometer. Transmission originates from the Plague Aura. Transcendents have stronger resistance to infection than ordinary people; the stronger the individual, the greater their resistance.
Third-Level Epidemic Zone: unlimited range. Spreads like normal smallpox via droplets and direct contact, following pathological progression, with gradual manifestation.
Taboo: Pray that you have already acquired lifelong immunity, otherwise no matter how you become infected, the difference is only in the speed of onset; it cannot change the final life or death outcome of a patient."
Byron stared intently at the back of the "Beak-Plague Doctor."
As if in a vision, it seemed to him that countless tribes and city-states had become ghost towns in its wake.
Corpses piled up like mountains, unburied. The stench of rotting flesh stretched for hundreds of kilometers without cease.
The brilliant civilizations of the Aztec Empire and Taya, in some ways superior to those of the Old Continent, would ultimately leave behind only dead cities and... "ownerless" land, gold, silver, and spices!
Suddenly, a few weak voices cried out, "Mr. Cortes, aren't we allies in the Anti-Aztec Alliance? Why have our people also fallen ill? You can control that beaked Grotesque, can't you? Quickly cure us of this pestilence!"
"Yes, yes! We're allies, fighting side by side! It's wrong to harm us, even by mistake!"
The shouts came from the front-line native warriors of the Anti-Aztec Alliance, who had been battling the Aztec forces.
Although they were further away, positioned between the Second-Level and Third-Level Epidemic Zones, and possessed better viral resistance, many still showed symptoms.
Hearing their complaints, Cortes's face revealed a strange smile.
He took two steps forward, stood at the edge of the pyramid overlooking the entire City of Gold, and spoke in a somber tone:
"Everyone, please remain calm. Actually, I too suffer from a disease. I need to prioritize treating my own affliction, and then I will certainly bring you relief."
Then, he looked down at the Aztec nobles at the foot of the pyramid, those whose conditions were most severe, and asked:
"I have an affliction of the heart that only gold can cure. I need a great deal of it—vast amounts. Will you submit to me and offer your tributes?"
Indeed, the People of Castilia and most nations of the Old Continent were gravely ill; only gold, silver, and spices could save them.
By saying this, he seemed to imply that as long as they submitted and offered gold, they could survive.
But in fact, both Byron and Cortes knew all too well that such a virulent plague simply had no cure!
Byron couldn't help but shake his head inwardly.
Doctors from the Hospital Sequence within the Ladder of Glory, those who adhere to the Hippocratic Oath, represent a weaker profession among all Sequences.
Because their flesh is bound to 'Beastliness,' knowledge derived from the physical body naturally resonates with forbidden knowledge, leading to harsh persecution by the Church.
The Artisans of the Tower Sequence make significant contributions to military industry, yet doctors are consistently oppressed.
Apart from skills like [Stimulating Vitality], which enhance self-recovery, their actual medical standards are not much better than those of contemporary mundane doctors.
Seeking help from the Old Continent's Hospital Sequence is less reliable than turning to the native Witch Doctors here.
Cortes knew all this.
His words were merely a ploy to ensure the nation's complete submission, from top to bottom, thereby fulfilling the "declaration of war" prerequisite of The First Overseas Expansion Order.
Defeating the native emperor alone isn't enough. I, [Conqueror] Cortes, want it all!
The Aztec people had successfully crafted a First-Class Holy Relic that was about to change the balance of power in the Bantaan Archipelago—the [Golden Code].
Now, they intended to use the winner-takes-all effect of The First Overseas Expansion Order to swallow the entire Empire—a small snake devouring an elephant.
Priestess Beatrice had already lifted the [Golden Code] high in her hands.
Resuming the interrupted ceremony, she prepared to crown Cortes once more, to inscribe his name upon the code.
She was about to make him the new King of the Aztec Empire, in a mystical sense!
Montezuma II's coronation had relied on the legitimacy of being a "child of the gods," while Cortes's relied on violent conquest—picking up a crown dropped by another.
The crowd below the pyramid hesitated for just a moment.
Then, a great many natives, dragging their sick bodies, collapsed to their knees with a rustling sound.
"I submit! Spare me! I'll give you all my gold!"
"I submit too! From this day forward, you are the new ruler of the Aztecs!"
Instantly, the [Golden Code], forged from gold, once again radiated a brilliant light, its Law Net expanding like a miniature sun.
A crown of light began to materialize above [Conqueror] Cortes's head—his own kingly crown.
But just as he strained his ears, trying to clearly discern his Kingly Title,
He first heard a low, muffled groan from his lover Beatrice.
Beatrice slowly looked down, unbelieving, at the shiny sword tip protruding from her chest.
"Al... Alvin! Have you gone mad? What... what are you doing?!"
The expression on her face was strikingly similar to that of Montezuma II, whom she had backstabbed just moments before—as if cast from the same mold.
Beatrice had, in fact, braced herself to be 'stabbed' by Alvin, but she had never imagined the 'stabbing' would be of this kind!
A sharp pain pierced her back, and she felt all her strength drain out through the cold aperture.
Her body collapsed weakly at the feet of her most "faithful" confidant.
The consummate "loyalty" and "adoration" of her lieutenant had been forged into the sharpest of swords.
This backstabbing blow was far more targeted than the ceremonial dagger she had prepared for Montezuma II.
The title of today's most injured party was thus transferred.
Simultaneously, a phrase that even [Conqueror] Cortes found vaguely familiar followed:
"Why did you inscribe your name on my [Golden Code]? Compensate me!"