Chapter 4. Rules of the House of Myriad Creatures. Part 4.

The existence of the Infected is a plight that invokes revulsion and pity in equal measure. The intricate dynamic between the Immortals, the Martial Artists, and the infected creates a palpable tension in the Home to a Myriad of Creatures. While the Immortals draw their strength from the Oblivion Lake, the Martial Artists harness the energy of Darkness, and the Infected occupy a precarious position that is despised by both worlds.

With origins rooted in mutated genes, the Infected bear the unfortunate burden of a repulsive appearance—a physical manifestation of their cursed existence. While the weak may succumb instantly to the toxicity of mana, the Infected possess a macabre resilience, transforming the very essence of mana into a source of power. Not only do they survive exposure to the toxic particles in the Oblivion Lake, but they also harness its power at a significant cost.

Absorbing mana transforms the bodies of the Infected into vessels of decay. This is akin to a curse that slowly consumes them from within, but despite their physical deterioration, the Infected still exhibit a sinister mimicry of the abilities wielded by the immortals. They can draw upon the energies of darkness and amplify their destructive potential.

While this dual blessing is a double-edged sword, it does have its drawbacks. The rapid rate of decomposition brings excruciating pain and leads to permanent mental deterioration. 

As the disease progresses, the Infected inevitably reach a state akin to that of a "walking corpse," their bodies ravaged by decay yet animated by an unholy semblance of life. Yet, even in this twilight state, the danger persists, as the mere presence of an Infected individual poses a grave risk of spreading the contagion to any living being unfortunate enough to draw near.

The contagion of the Infected extends far beyond the confines of their decaying bodies, permeating the very air with their malevolent presence. From respiratory secretions to bodily fluids like sweat, blood, and saliva, the Will of the Infected taints everything within a radius of 100 meters. Any contact, be it spiritual or physical, with even the slightest remnant of an Infected individual guarantees transmission of the infection—a dire fat, leaving no room for escape.

As the infection takes hold, changes in the body unfold gradually, with the incubation period spanning anywhere from six months to three years. During this time, the afflicted experience a gradual decline in health, often accompanied by the loss of one or more senses, most commonly sight or smell.

Upon detection of symptoms, potential carriers are swiftly quarantined for experimentation to search for a cure. Yet, more often than not, the grim reality unfolds with brutal finality—the vector of the infection is killed by burning it alive.

To stem the tide of new infections, a silent pact emerges between the gifted and the weak—they avoid lingering in each other's territories. Though the efficacy of this arrangement remains a subject of debate, the last decade has seen a notable absence of outbreaks.

Thus, the third rule emerges as a grim necessity— to eradicate the infected and safeguard the fragile balance of the world. For a single carrier has the potential to unleash death upon thousands, preying upon the vulnerable with ruthless efficiency.