A Hospital in Another World? Chapter 921: They Are All Dead! Everyone is Dead! Run Away!

"Better take a detour up ahead! There's a ferocious old bear's territory there! We need to go left for about half a day, then we'll reach the river!"

Radon lay on the back of a deer, pulling his deerskin robe tight to block the cold wind, shouting loudly. Garrett, on the back of the Phantom Steed, turned around and waved at him with a smile.

"No worries, we'll just pass by! That old bear is hibernating; if we speed up, we won't run into it!"

The native youth mumbled sothing under his breath. Seeing the Phantom Steed and the Silver Moon Deer ahead running swiftly, he could only urge his own reindeer to follow. They dashed into the forest with sparse branches and snow-covered ground.

As they were about to exit the forest, faint bear roars sounded from behind. After a few growls, the sound gradually faded. It seed the bear realized its target was too far away to catch, so it went back to sleep.

Radon breathed a sigh of relief. He carefully identified the terrain, which had changed due to the cold winter and heavy snow, and soon shouted again.

"There's a swamp ahead! Be careful—"

The Phantom Steed ran over it as if it were flat ground. The spellcaster on its back turned around, flicking his fingers slightly. Radon imdiately felt a breeze surrounding him and his deer. When the deer's hooves touched the snowy ground, they only sank slightly.

Garrett even had the leisure to make the Phantom Steed turn and pull a panic-stricken roebuck out of the swamp, giving it a bath with a Cleansing Spell.

"Ah, mages..."

Radon grumbled as he lay on the reindeer's back. He was also a student of the Grand Shaman, but the skills taught by the Grand Shaman were limited to inspiring companions, intimidating opponents, a bit of bleeding control, healing, detoxification, and limited use of beast souls.

Being able to do whatever one wanted, achieving goals with just a flick of a finger, was just too... enviable!

This native warrior on his coming-of-age ceremony gripped the handle of his knife, determined to make another effort. The other party didn't want beast souls or the gems on his necklace. That elf maiden, with a single gem on her forehead, was worth hundreds of his...

But he was sure he could find a way to offer enough in exchange for learning those skills!

Fortunately, from the next morning onward, they began the mountain climbing path he was most familiar with. Radon released the reindeer, moving nimbly ahead, jumping and climbing.

"If you want to cross the mountain, this is the right path! I know these mountains well! Follow this valley, there's water and campsites all along the way, and minimal climbing required!"

Garrett, holding Mr. Troka, nodded at him. The Phantom Steed moved nimbly, climbing upwards. The black cat instinctively chose the easiest path, not deviating much from Radon's guidance. The shrubs around Garrett kept whispering.

"It's been here before."

"Yes, I rember the scent. Ugh... a bit slly..."

"It ca when the weather was warr; I had more leaves then..."

Garrett thought that maintaining such high-intensity nature communication from the east to the west of the New World might force his priest level up by one...

After a whole day of trekking, crossing mountains and rivers, by dusk they had crossed four or five mountain ridges. Radon eagerly led them downhill.

"There's a cave here, used to be a bear's den. After we killed the bear, the cave beca ours. It's perfect—neither too deep nor too shallow, and the turn in the rock tunnel keeps out the cold wind... Shh!"

He suddenly stopped, raising his left hand in a "stop" gesture. In the darkness, the native youth nimbly moved to the side, lying behind a large rock.

"Soone's there..."

Crunch, crunch. The sound of footsteps on the snow ca rhythmically. A group of natives left the bear den, moving upwards. Each carried bows, spears, or axes, carefully treading lightly, making as little noise as possible.

With his dark vision, Garrett saw that each of them radiated a fiery aura. Beyond the heat, there was a cold tinge. In the Mindlink, Baronsimo nervously warned:

"Boss, they an no good."

"Don't worry, they're not after us."

Garrett replied through the Mindlink. He sensed that the group's attention was entirely focused upward, or rather, towards a far distant high point. As long as they remained unnoticed, they should be fine.

He flicked his fingers, casting a series of soundproofing and invisibility spells around them. The five people, one deer, and one black cat quietly stood in place, waiting for the group to disappear from their senses. Then, he turned to the native youth.

"Where are these people from? Will they be a threat to your tribe?"

"No, boss." After a day, Radon had beco quite proficient in calling Garrett "boss" like Bernard and the others.

"They're from the Black Kite Tribe, enemies of the Rock Sheep Tribe above. Our tribe is in the other direction—"

The Son of the Dawn turned around, pointing vigorously in the direction opposite to where the Black Kite Tribe had left.

"Very far away. Besides, our tribe is very strong; they wouldn't dare ss with us."

"That's good. We don't seek trouble, but we're not afraid of it either." Garrett nodded calmly.

"This campsite is no longer usable. Could you lead us a bit further?"

They climbed over another hill, setting up the mage's hut on a wind-sheltered flat. They slept soundly until midnight when the alarm spells Garrett had set around the campsite were triggered.

Ding ding ding ding!

Ding ding ding ding!

A series of crisp bell sounds rang through the invisible magical threads. Baronsimo and Radon also quickly jumped up from their blankets.

Crunch, crunch. The snow around the campsite was being trampled. Garrett rubbed his eyes and cast an Illumination Spell, while Radon stepped out to question.

"Who's there?!"

"They're all dead! Everyone's dead!"

The group of natives who had sneaked towards the mountain earlier appeared in the light, looking disheveled. Their faces were painted half red, half black, interwoven with various tattoos, creating a bizarre and slightly frightening appearance.

However, each person's lips were pale, trembling uncontrollably. Garrett quickly cast an Inducent Spell, followed by a Charm Person Spell. When Radon questioned them again, he saw their pupils dilate instinctively.

"They're all dead... all dead..."

"Who is dead?!"

"The Rock Sheep Tribe... we planned to raid them, but when we lifted their tents, not a single living person was left... all dead, piles and piles of them..."

"Radon! Step back!"

Garrett shouted. The group of natives, as if granted amnesty, scread and fled. Snow kicked up, and soon they were out of sight.

Garrett stood in the snow, looking in the direction they ca from, his face stern.

All dead?

What happened?

Could it be the plague has returned?