The temperature in the cabin was extremely low, as if the winter was hidden inside. A thin layer of frost covered every corner, and the inside of the container was slightly frozen.
Under the mirror of the plague doctor's mask, his eyes were fanatical, heavy breathing could be heard from the filter mouth, and a faint white mist rose from under the bird's beak.
His body began to tremble, as if he was too excited. Many strange bulges appeared under his robe, and it seemed that he could no longer support this human form.
The eyes hidden under the mask stared straight ahead. A faint blue light came on, casting a cold hue over everything. His voice was almost distorted.
"So... are there really such things as angels?"
He looked back at Dean Lawrence, his body shaking with excitement.
"No, to be precise, the word 'angel' was created so that we can understand its form. As for what it is, an angel or a demon, we have no idea."
Priest Lawrence spoke slowly, smiling as he looked ahead at the most perfect work in human history.
It was a pale corpse, which had been dead for who knows how long. Like the martyrs recorded in the Gospels, it had its arms outstretched, nailed to the cross.
The ancient shocking power came back to him. Although he was clearly inside a steamship, surrounded by the port of Rendona, the plague doctor heard faint chanting in his ears, as if an invisible orchestra was singing a sad song, mourning the dead existence.
The barriers of time and space were broken, and the sacred existence that spanned the time of history came to the present world, showing mortals its past great achievements.
Then the milky white gas slowly overflowed from the bottom and spread over the surrounding sea of candles, causing the ocean of fire to ripple. It enveloped the plague doctor, and thousands of invisible giant hands grabbed it, revealing the miracle of the kingdom of heaven.
It was an indescribable scene, as if it were some mysterious ritual with a sacred color. However, the rational machinery held the pale corpse tightly. The continuously circulating low-temperature gas cooled it down, and its dry skin was severely dehydrated. The holy silver nails were nailed heavily into every joint of the corpse, as if suppressing the soul that longed to return.
The past and the present, the sacred religion and the technological machinery are entangled together.
The plague doctor walked with heavy steps, stepping on the melted and solidified wax, and finally stood in front of the execution cross. He carefully observed the pale corpse.
All its hair had fallen out, its eyes were tightly closed, and its face was indistinguishably neutral, handsome yet with a seductive beauty. Its lower body was smooth, with no primary sexual characteristics.
It's not a human, just some kind of creature that looks like a human...
In fact, the plague doctor knew it clearly at first sight. He certainly knew that the corpse in front of him was not a human corpse. It was a sacred existence, the sacred remains... But he still couldn't believe it.
Believe that they really exist.
He hummed.
"Angel… "
So his eyes rose again and looked at the two sides of the corpse. There were new branches growing along the back. They were completely different from the human physiological structure. They were like deformed pieces of flesh, but the plague doctor knew what they were.