As they entered the room, what greeted them was a wide chamber bathed in sunlight.
Multiple tall windows lined the walls, letting golden rays spill inside and shine down upon the figure of a pale, sickly boy lying in bed. His small chest rose and fell unevenly, every breath ragged, his body trembling as if even the act of breathing was a punishment.
Three people surrounded him. They were priests, each one wearing flowing robes embroidered with the sacred symbol of Erdun. Their attire was decorated with accessories like those of that exorcist, holy relics meant to ward off evil.
In their hands were the mediums through which they channeled their power—one held a handheld thurible that let off faint trails of incense smoke, another gripped a polished bronze staff that hummed faintly with energy, while the last clutched a heavy scripture, the very foundation of their faith.
All three stood in grim focus, their mediums pointed at the boy as golden light filled the chamber, relentless waves of healing magic flooding into his body without pause.
Alex only needed one glance to know the truth—it was bad. The boy's shoulder wound was still wide open, blood spilling endlessly. Cleaning was impossible, the bleeding too severe. Bandages wouldn't help either. At most, they would only buy time.
The only reason the child was still alive was because the priests' healing spells kept replenishing his blood supply. But even then, it wasn't enough.
The priest holding the thurible turned toward the newcomers. His face carried a serene smile, but behind it lingered deep worry.
"I'm assuming you're the two the Count sent? You came at a dire time, I'm afraid."
The one with the scripture added, his voice tight as sweat dripped down his face.
"This is torture for the boy… at this rate, death would almost be a mercy."
"Don't speak such madness!" The third priest, the woman holding the bronze staff, cut him off sharply. She was the only female among them, her tone firm and resolute. "There is hope yet for him. We cannot give up."
Cynthia wasted no time. She placed the basket at the foot of the bed and began setting out the plants she had carried, carefully preparing them for Alex to use in his 'medicine.'
"It's your time to do your job." She gave Alex a steady nod, then stepped back, leaving the stage to him.
Alex blinked, caught off guard. What surprised him wasn't Cynthia's words, but the priests themselves. He had expected scorn, suspicion, maybe even contempt. Instead, what he saw in their eyes was genuine worry… and kindness.
Even if, for one of them, that kindness leaned toward mercy killing.
"Very well," Alex muttered, pulling up the ragged sleeves of his shirt.
The priest with the thurible shifted uncomfortably, hesitant to let Alex interfere. His concentration never faltered, but his voice carried doubt.
"A-are you really qualified for this…?"
Meanwhile, the boy groaned weakly, his lips pale as he breathed shallowly. Every exhale carried the sound of someone teetering on the edge between life and death.
The staff priest frowned in confusion. "I don't understand. Healing magic should be working. Why won't the wound close?"
The scripture priest shook his head. "Exactly. Even if the bleeding is inevitable, the wound should've sealed by now. Why hasn't it?"
Alex froze, his expression tightening. They were right. He had assumed it was just hemophilia, something simple magic couldn't cure. But that didn't explain why the wound itself refused to close. There had to be something more.
"Excuse me!" Alex suddenly barked, brushing past the scripture priest. He pressed a hand against the boy's forehead.
Cold. The skin was far too cold. His blood circulation was dropping dangerously. Alex scanned the rest of the boy's body, then turned his eyes back to the wound.
"The Count wasn't lying… this is a huge gnash. What could've caused something like this?"
He crouched lower, inspecting the shoulder more closely.
"What are you—" one priest began, but Cynthia cut him off.
"Let him do his thing. I've seen that look before… it's the look of someone who knows exactly what they're doing."
The priest blinked, torn. "And you? Aren't you going to help him?"
"This isn't my specialty," Cynthia said bluntly. "I just gather herbs and know the basics of how to use them. This is his field, not mine."
"…I see." The priest gave a quiet chuckle, then looked back at Alex. Still, his healing never ceased.
[Eye of Ophiuchus: Ability]
[Diagnosing…]
[Search for clues]
Alex's vision sharpened, strange lines and faint glows highlighting the boy's body.
'So it's not just hemophilia. There's something else. A second factor interfering.'
He clicked his tongue.
"You," Alex pointed at the priest beside him.
"Yes?"
"Do you know water magic?"
"I do."
"Good. Wash my hands with it." Alex cupped his palms together, already preparing.
The priest blinked twice, unsure of the command, even more confused about Alex's motives.
"Okay…" he finally muttered, but his hesitation didn't last. Alex's tone had been too firm, too confident to ignore.
He raised his hand, chanting under his breath. A faint ripple of mana shimmered in the air before condensing into a small stream of water.
DRIP.
A steady splash of clear water poured into Alex's cupped hands. He rubbed them thoroughly, letting the stream run over his fingers like a faucet. Every drop sparkled faintly under the sunlight, cleansing away even the smallest trace of dust.
"Thanks." Alex nodded, his voice quick and clipped. He didn't waste another second before turning back toward the bleeding shoulder.
'Alright… let's get my hands dirty.'
He clenched his jaw, focusing.
"Don't you dare stop your healing, not even for a single second, understood?" Alex's tone was sharp as steel, leaving no room for argument.
The priests quickly nodded, reinforcing their golden light around the boy's body.
Alex leaned close, eyes narrowing as he inspected the gnash once more.
'No anomalies spotted on the outside. Nothing here should inhibit magic from closing the wound.'
His gaze sharpened.
'Which means… the problem has to be on the inside.'
The thought alone made his stomach twist. He had no tools, no proper equipment. His hands, while skilled, were still too large for precise probing.
'Should I just go for it anyway?'
[Ophiuchus grants you his blessing]
[Granted: Snake's Scalpel]
A flash of green light burst into existence in his palm. When it faded, Alex found himself holding a pristine scalpel, its blade gleaming faintly as if it were alive.
"…Thanks," he whispered softly, smiling to himself. He hadn't expected any reply.
But then—
[Ophiuchus expects great things from you]
Alex froze for half a second, his heart skipping. Was it… watching him? Expecting something from him?
He swallowed hard, pushing the thought aside. Now wasn't the time.
His Eye of Ophiuchus guided him, glowing faintly as his vision highlighted a small, eerie green shimmer deep within the boy's shoulder.
'There… that's it. The unknown variable.'
Without hesitation, Alex slid the scalpel into the wound.
The boy's body tensed instantly, a strangled cry breaking past his lips.
"Aghhh—!"
"Inhibit Pain!" the priest with the staff shouted quickly. A soft fog spread across the bed like a calming mist, weaving into the boy's body. His pained expression eased slightly, his muscles relaxing as the spell dulled the agony.
Alex exhaled through his teeth, his grip steady as he carefully maneuvered the blade.
Tch.
The scalpel scraped against something solid. Something that should not exist inside a human body.
The vibration shot up through the handle and into his fingers, and his eyes widened.
'Jackpot.'