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Eldritch Horror? No, I'm A Doctor
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"Hello, Doctor. We meet again."
Kai's greeting was friendly, almost casual, as if they were old acquaintances rather than people who'd met just hours ago. He stood at the front of the small group, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. The kind of alertness that came from years of being a hunter.
Ash and Jack stood behind him, both bowing their heads slightly in a show of respect. The gesture was brief but deliberate, acknowledging Ren's position without being overly formal.
"Greetings, Doctor. I'll be in your care today." The voice came from behind the trio, rough and weathered but carrying authority.
Ren looked past Kai and saw the source. An older man, maybe in his fifties, was riding piggyback on Jack. His gray and black hair was cut military short, and an eyepatch covered his left eye. But what really caught Ren's attention was the uniform.
Military dress, dark green with crisp lines despite the obvious wear and tear from combat. The chest was covered in insignia, each one precisely placed. Medals hung in neat rows, glinting slightly in the clinic's lighting. Ribbons in various colors denoted campaigns and commendations. This wasn't just a soldier. This was someone high ranking.
Ren's eyes traced over the decorations, recognizing some from his studies. Combat medals. Service ribbons. Command insignia. The sheer number of them suggested decades of military service, probably starting from the bottom and working up through pure merit and survival.
There are a lot of insignia on his chest. There are even medals hanging on it. This guy seems to be of somewhat high ranking, Ren thought, his medical mind automatically cataloging details.
Then it hit him.
I almost forgot. This is a military state.
The Azareth Empire. He'd read about it in the archives at Dao Guild during his integration period, part of Lu Changcheng's insistence that he understand the political landscape. The information came back to him now in vivid detail.
The Azareth Empire operated under an authoritarian military regime. No democracy, no elections, just pure military hierarchy. At the top sat General Malrick Siven, who wasn't just the political leader but also the strongest hunter in the entire nation. A Legendary rank hunter with the class designation "The Apex Warlord." The kind of power that made even Mythic rank hunters look weak by comparison.
In Azareth, there were no independent hunter guilds like in other nations. The concept simply didn't exist here. Every high rank hunter was directly enlisted into the military structure. Your hunter rank determined your military rank. Reach C rank, you became an officer. Reach S rank, you commanded battalions. The entire system was built on the principle that supernatural power should serve the state.
It was one of the two strongest nations in the world, the other being the Victoria Kingdom. The two countries maintained an uneasy peace, neither wanting to start a war that would devastate both sides. But tensions were always present, simmering just below the surface.
The man riding on Jack's back was clearly part of that military structure. Given his age, the medals, and the way the trio treated him with respect despite his current undignified position, he was probably a Major at minimum. Maybe higher.
And now he's in my clinic, Ren thought. Great. Just what I needed. International complications.
"Okay, get in, get in." Ren gestured toward the hallway, pushing his concerns aside. Whatever political implications this patient represented could wait. Right now, he was just another injured person who needed healing.
Ren guided them through the clinic. His footsteps echoed on the white tile as he led the group down the black walled hallway. The trio followed, with Jack still carrying the Colonel on his back. The older man didn't seem bothered by the transportation method, sitting comfortably like he'd been carried this way before.
They reached the operating room, and Ren pushed the door open. The familiar sight of the examination table, the black walls, the sterile equipment. Everything was exactly as he'd left it after the last surgery.
"Place him on the bed," Ren instructed, stepping aside to give them room.
Jack moved into the room carefully, mindful of his passenger. He turned around and bent down, allowing the Colonel to slide off his back. The older man winced slightly as his feet touched the ground, putting weight on his injured leg. Ash moved in quickly to support him, helping him walk the few steps to the examination table.
The Colonel sat down on the edge of the table with a grunt, his movements stiff and careful. He kept his weight off his left ankle, the broken bone clearly causing pain despite his stoic expression.
"Now get out," Ren said, his voice taking on the professional tone he used during procedures. "The operating room is only for the sick."
"Is that your catchphrase now, Doctor?" Ash said teasingly, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His tone was light, trying to inject some humor into the tense atmosphere.
Ren turned to look at him directly, his face completely neutral. Then he smiled. It wasn't a warm smile. It wasn't reassuring. It was the kind of smile that promised unpleasant things.
"Do you want me to operate on you again, then?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Ren's smile didn't waver, but there was something chilling about it. Something that reminded all three hunters exactly what they'd experienced earlier. The tentacles. The chainsaw. The screaming while fully conscious.
The trio's faces went pale simultaneously. The color drained from their skin like someone had opened a tap. Kai took a half-step backward. Jack's shoulders tensed. Ash's smile vanished completely, replaced by wide eyed alarm.
"Good luck, Colonel," the trio said in unison, their voices overlapping. They fled from the operating room like it was on fire, practically tripping over each other to get through the door. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway as they retreated to the safety of the waiting room.
The Colonel lay back on the examination table, a smile spreading across his weathered face. The expression made him look younger somehow, more human. He'd seen his share of horrors in his military career, but watching three experienced hunters flee in terror from a doctor was apparently amusing enough to break through his stoic military bearing.
"So, Doctor," the Colonel said, his voice carrying a hint of humor,
"I heard you can even regenerate limbs."
"Yes." Ren walked closer to the table, his eyes automatically assessing the patient's condition. His gaze lingered on the eyepatch for a moment before moving on to catalog the other visible injuries.
"Is it about your eye?"
"Yes."
Ren moved to stand beside the table, close enough to examine properly but far enough to maintain professional distance.
"Other than some broken legs, that's the biggest reason that you visited me, isn't it?"
The Colonel nodded, his expression becoming more serious. "I lost it years ago. Monster attack during a B rank gate. The doctors saved my life but couldn't save the eye. I've worn this patch ever since." He reached up to touch the leather covering.
"Can you really restore it?"
"I surely can." Ren's voice was confident, matter of fact. Just stating a simple truth.
The Colonel's eye brightened up immediately, his whole face transforming with hope. "Really?"
"Yes."
There was a pause as the Colonel processed this. His hand dropped from the eyepatch, and he studied Ren's face carefully. Assessing. Calculating. The mind of a military officer trying to gather information.
"Are you a hunter, Doctor?"
"Yes." Ren's answer was simple, offering no additional details.
"May I have your name?"
"You may not." Ren crossed his arms, his tone polite but firm.
"But you can recommend this place to your friends. It would make business better."
The Colonel's eyebrow raised slightly. "Hmm."
He tried a different approach. "What rank are you? The way those three hunters talk about you, your power must be considerable."
"That's classified." Ren's smile was pleasant but revealed nothing.
"Which guild are you affiliated with?"
"Private practice. Independent."
"How long have you been operating this clinic?"
"Long enough." Ren's answers were getting shorter, more clipped. Professional but clearly unwilling to share personal information.
The Colonel leaned back slightly, studying Ren with his one good eye. The doctor's refusal to provide basic information was interesting. Not hostile, just guarded. Like someone who'd learned to be careful about what they revealed.
"You know," the Colonel said slowly, changing tactics,
"In my experience, people who hide their identity usually have good reasons. Power like yours, the kind those three described, it draws attention. Not always the good kind."
Ren didn't respond immediately. He just waited, letting the Colonel continue.
"Tentacles that perform surgery. A chainsaw that assists in healing. Complete regeneration of lost limbs in minutes." The Colonel counted off on his fingers.
"That's the kind of power that makes people nervous. Makes them ask questions. Makes them want to control it."
"Your point?" Ren asked quietly.
"My point is that I understand." The Colonel's voice was sincere, without pity or judgment. "Having power that scares people, that makes them see you as something other than human. I've seen it before. Good soldiers forced to hide what they could do because their own comrades feared them more than the enemy."
Ren's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes. A flicker of something, recognition maybe, or understanding.
"You must suffer a lot," the Colonel continued, his tone gentle now.
"Having such grotesque power. It's hard to be accepted anywhere when people are too busy being terrified of you."
There was a moment of silence. Ren considered explaining that the Colonel had completely misunderstood the situation. He wasn't hiding because people feared his power. He was hiding because he'd only been operating for a few hours and already the possibilities political implications were giving him a headache.
But the misunderstanding was actually convenient. Let the Colonel think what he wanted. It created a narrative that explained Ren's secrecy without revealing anything about his actual circumstances.
"So I understand the feeling," the Colonel finished. "I won't push for information you're not comfortable sharing."
Ren was confused by the sudden understanding in the Colonel's voice. The man seemed to genuinely empathize with a situation that didn't actually exist. But he didn't ask for clarification. Sometimes misunderstandings worked in your favor.
"Then take off your eyepatch," Ren said, changing the subject back to medical matters. His tone was professional again, the brief moment of personal connection over.
The Colonel thought Ren wanted to look at the old wound, to assess the damage before determining if treatment was possible. That made sense. A thorough examination before committing to a procedure. He reached up and pulled the eyepatch off, setting it on the table beside him.
The empty eye socket was visible now, old scar tissue covering where the eye used to be. The damage was extensive, the kind of injury that conventional medicine had no hope of fixing.
Ren took off his right glove slowly, revealing his bare hand. Normal fingers, normal palm, nothing unusual visible. The Colonel watched with curiosity, wondering what examination technique required a bare hand.
Then Ren's palm split open.
The skin peeled back like flower petals, revealing the mouth underneath. Rows of small teeth glistened in the light. The Colonel's eye widened in shock, but before he could react, Ren moved.
He pushed his palm directly against the Colonel's empty eye socket.
Hundreds of needle thin tongues shot out from the mouth, plunging deep into the eye socket. They wove through the scar tissue, penetrating into the empty space where the eye had been, reaching for the atrophied optic nerve buried underneath.
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The scream erupted from the Colonel's throat, raw and primal. It wasn't just pain. It was the horror of feeling those thin tendrils moving inside his skull, the impossible sensation of something foreign touching parts of his head that should never be touched.
The scream rang out through the clinic, echoing off the black walls and white tile. It carried down the hallway, through the waiting room, probably out into the alley beyond.
.
.
.
In the waiting room, the trio sat in uncomfortable silence. The black chairs were actually quite comfortable, but none of them could relax. They'd been here before. They knew what was coming.
Then the screaming started.
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
All three of them jumped slightly, despite expecting it. The sound was muffled by the walls but still clearly audible. And it was continuous, the Colonel's voice rising and falling but never quite stopping.
Kai winced, his hand unconsciously touching his mouth where his missing tooth had been. "That takes me back."
"Don't remind me," Ash muttered. He rubbed his forehead where his scar used to be, the phantom memory of the healing process still fresh.
Jack was grinning despite himself. "You know what makes this hilarious?"
The other two looked at him.
"The Colonel is always so hardheaded. Tough as nails. I've seen him take a hit that broke three ribs and he just grunted." Jack's grin widened.
"But listen to him now."
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The scream continued, showing no signs of stopping. The Colonel's voice was hoarse now, strained from the continuous effort.
"He sounds like a little girl who saw a spider," Kai observed, fighting back a smile.
"A really big spider," Ash added. "Made of nightmares."
"That's crawling inside his body" Jack finished.
They looked at each other and couldn't help it. Laughter bubbled up, breaking the tension. It wasn't kind laughter, but it wasn't entirely cruel either. It was the laughter of people who'd been through the same experience and survived. The kind of humor that came from shared trauma.
"Remember when Jack was screaming 'My hand is waving at my right hand'?" Kai said between chuckles.
"At least I had a reason," Jack shot back. "The Colonel's just getting an eyeball. One eyeball."
"One eyeball that's being grown from scratch inside his skull," Ash pointed out. "By a doctor with a black tentacles."
"Fair point," Jack conceded.
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"He's been screaming for like two minutes straight now," Kai said, checking his watch.
"How does he still have a voice left?"
"Military training," Ash suggested. "Probably learned how to scream efficiently."
"Is that even a thing?" Jack asked.
"It is now," Kai replied.
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"You think we should record this?" Ash pulled out his phone, a mischievous glint in his eye. "For posterity?"
"He'd court martial us," Kai said, but he was grinning too.
"Worth it," Jack decided.
"Totally worth it," Ash agreed, already opening his camera app.
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"The mighty Colonel Steven Bright," Kai said in a mock-serious tone
"Survivor of countless battles, slayer of themonster, brought low by... an eye doctor."
That set them all off again, laughing so hard they had to wipe tears from their eyes.
"Stop, stop," Jack gasped. "My new abs hurt from laughing."
"Those are your original abs, genius," Ash corrected. "The doctor didn't give you new ones."
"He should have. Could have given me a six-pack while he was in there rearranging my organs."
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Oh man, he's still going," Kai said, shaking his head in amazement. "That's impressive stamina."
"Years of yelling at recruits," Ash theorized. "Builds up the lung capacity."
"Think he'll ever let us live this down?" Jack asked.
"Absolutely not," Kai said.
"We're all getting reassigned to latrine duty," Ash predicted.
"Still worth it," Jack insisted.
"AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"