Chapter 814: Famous Painting: Kal'tsit Under the Desk! Question: Do Lynxes Have Sharp Fangs and Tails?
"All right." Ren casually withdrew his hand.
Nearl immediately leaned forward, gently taking Shining's hand to inspect it. Her thumb brushed over the previously injured skin, finding nothing but pristine, flawless warmth.
"How amazing..." Nearl murmured, her golden eyes wide with disbelief. "There are no scars or marks left on the wound at all."
Shining stared at her own palm, equally stunned. "Even the most accomplished healing Arts users I know cannot achieve this level of flawless restoration."
Ren merely smiled, offering no explanation. For him, a feat like this was as effortless as breathing.
Nearl nodded, her expression shifting to one of grave seriousness. "But the most crucial test remains the Originium infection itself. Mr. Ren, please give us a moment to measure her blood cell-Originium assimilation rate."
With a respectful bow, the two women left the room. The heavy door clicked shut behind them.
As soon as the latch clicked, Ren lowered his gaze beneath the desk, a thoroughly amused smirk playing on his lips. "Kal'tsit, your fangs are a bit sharp. Is that a specific trait of your lynx lineage, or just a general Feline thing?"
He paused, tilting his head in mock curiosity. "By the way, do lynxes even count as Felines?"
Beneath the desk, Kal'tsit's cheeks were visibly bulging. She was in absolutely no position to answer his teasing questions. Instead, she could only glare up at him, her usually sharp green eyes hazy, watery, and brimming with deep resentment.
That resentful, teary-eyed glare was simply too wonderful. It was so captivating that Ren couldn't resist reaching down to toy with her twitching lynx ears, rubbing the soft fur between his fingers.
"Indeed, they're quite fluffy. Not much different from a regular Feline," he mused aloud, enjoying her muffled protests. "I just wonder... is your tail as short as a typical lynx's, Kal'tsit? Or do you simply not have one at all?"
Feeling his gaze deliberately shift toward the base of her spine, Kal'tsit's entire body tensed up. For a supposedly ancient and calculating mastermind, her flustered reaction was nothing short of adorable.
A short while later, footsteps echoed in the corridor.
The door opened to reveal Nearl and Shining. Between them, they gently pushed a wheelchair carrying a fragile young girl with vacant, unfocused eyes.
They returned carrying a heavy, desperate hope. The medical tests had confirmed the impossible: Shining's cell-Originium assimilation rate had dropped to zero. She was completely cured. She was a non-Infected once more.
This absolute proof that Ren could eradicate Oripathy meant there was a genuine chance he could heal severe neurological damage as well. Without wasting a single second, they had rushed to bring Nightingale to him.
"Hmm? Why is Dr. Kal'tsit here too?" Nearl blinked, genuinely puzzled as she noticed the green-haired doctor standing suspiciously close to Ren's chair, seemingly in the middle of swallowing something with a strained gulp.
Quickly and discreetly wiping a faint, glistening trace from the corner of her mouth, Kal'tsit turned to face the trio. Her posture was rigid, her expression instantly freezing into its usual mask of absolute, unfeeling authority.
"I am here to supervise," she stated coldly, her voice perfectly steady. "This matter is of the utmost importance to Rhodes Island."
Nearl, ever the honorable knight, accepted the excuse without a second thought and nodded seriously. "We understand. Mr. Ren's method of curing Oripathy is nothing short of a miracle."
She stepped forward, placing a gauntleted hand over her heart in a gesture of absolute solemnity. "I swear in the name of the Radiant Knight, Margaret Nearl, that I will absolutely not allow any third party to learn of this information!"
Shining stepped up beside her, resting a hand on the hilt of her sheathed blade. "And I swear upon my sword. In the name of the Sarkaz Confessarius."
Kal'tsit's sharp eyes flickered with a hint of surprise.
The Radiant Knight and the Confessarius. Those titles were the heavy anchors of Nearl and Shining's long-hidden pasts—identities they usually went to great lengths to conceal. Yet here they were, willingly laying their deepest secrets bare to prove their unwavering commitment to Ren.
Nearl had grown up in the neon-lit, hyper-capitalist nation of Kazimierz, a country ostensibly ruled by the knight class but truly controlled by corporate greed. Blessed with combat talent that vastly eclipsed her peers, she had been exceptionally admitted into the highest echelons of the knightly orders, earning the prestigious title of the "Radiant Knight."
However, her unyielding sense of justice made her fiercely oppose the blatant commercialization and corruption of Kazimierz's knightly tournaments. Her defiance deeply offended the Kazimierz General Chamber of Commerce. Ultimately, through an orchestrated accident, she was publicly outed as having contracted Oripathy, forcing her into exile from her homeland.
Shining, on the other hand, currently presented herself as a gentle Medic who refused to use martial skills. But the truth was far darker. She was once a terrifyingly formidable swordswoman belonging to the Confessarii—a secretive and ruthless Sarkaz organization. The healing staff she carried was merely a scabbard for her deadly blade.
Driven by a desire for absolution, she had once acted as a flawless killing machine for the Confessarii. It was only after witnessing the true depths of their depravity that she realized the error of her path. She had drawn her blade against her own kin, fleeing the organization with Nightingale in tow, eventually finding refuge at Rhodes Island.
"Your pasts are no secret to me," Ren said, his tone casual yet carrying a meaningful weight. "But keeping my abilities confidential is actually for your own protection, and for the protection of the rest of Terra."
This world was filled with problematic, overly ambitious factions. If some arrogant organization decided to jump in his face demanding his miraculous healing, he genuinely wouldn't mind casually exterminating their entire bloodline.
Nearl and Shining exchanged a confused glance, not entirely grasping the bloody implication behind his words.
Kal'tsit, however, was acutely aware of the terrifying weight of that statement. She knew exactly how monstrous Ren's power truly was. Yet, this unfathomably dangerous being was also unusually... fond of beautiful women.
Case in point: while delivering a vaguely genocidal threat with a straight face, his hand was currently sliding up Kal'tsit's thigh under the desk, tracing her skin from an angle completely hidden from the two knights.
"Let's get down to business," Ren said, smoothly shifting the topic. "This is Nightingale, the companion you want me to treat, right?"
Shining gently pushed the wheelchair forward. Her expression tightened, a complex mix of guilt, sorrow, and lingering anger flashing across her usually placid features.
"This child... she suffered far too much during the civil war," Shining began, her voice trembling slightly.
Slowly, Shining recounted the harrowing events of how she first found Nightingale. It was a dark history stained with the sins of her own people—the Confessarii.
War had a way of driving people to absolute insanity. Even the Confessarii, an organization originally dedicated to medical and spiritual guidance for the Sarkaz royalty, was not immune to the madness.
They had treated Nightingale like livestock, locking her inside a cramped iron cage and exploiting her unique Originium Arts as a mere medical instrument to heal their troops. But that was far from enough for them.
Nightingale's unmatched healing capabilities only fueled their boundless greed. They began subjecting her to horrific human experiments. They relentlessly injected her frail body with volatile chemical agents and concentrated Originium toxins. They forced her to inhale damaging neurotoxins just to observe the effects on her Arts.
Day after day, they pushed her physiological limits to the absolute breaking point, torturing her to force out even greater surges of healing power. For several agonizing years of the war, Nightingale endured these inhumane biological atrocities. Her unique Arts didn't just heal wounds; they forced her to literally share her own life force with the afflicted.
Under the weight of endless imprisonment, brutal experimentation, and the constant draining of her vitality, Nightingale's mind and body finally shattered.
The heavy doses of neurotoxins left her with severe, seemingly irreversible brain damage, stripping away her memories and her awareness. The violent ravages of advanced Oripathy eroded her nervous system, leaving her lower limbs completely paralyzed.
Her childhood, her youth, and what should have been a peaceful life were all ruthlessly tossed into the meat grinder as sacrifices for a senseless war.
When the war finally ended, Kazdel was left utterly fragmented. The land was reduced to smoldering ash and endless ruins. The Sarkaz, a race already feared and despised by the rest of Terra as devils, had only deepened the world's hatred with their sinful atrocities.
And deep within a forgotten, bloodstained laboratory, Nightingale sat slumped inside her cage, quietly awaiting the sweet release of death.
But when she finally opened her vacant eyes again, death had not come for her.
Instead, she saw a Sarkaz physician standing before her, a blood-drenched longsword in hand, tearing the iron cage apart to pull her from the darkness.
That savior was Shining, a former executioner of the Confessarii.
Recognizing the sheer depravity of what Nightingale had been forced to endure, Shining could no longer stomach the evil deeds of her own kin. In a single night, Shining severed ties with her past, violently betrayed the Confessarii, and carried Nightingale out of that hellhole.
From that day forward, finding a way to heal the broken girl became Shining's sole purpose—her only path to redemption.
For years, Shining wandered the unforgiving wastelands of Terra with Nightingale on her back. Yet, despite her shattered mind, whenever Nightingale sensed the pain of those around her, her instincts would take over. She would reflexively use her Arts, treating herself as a disposable tool to absorb their suffering.
But every time she used her power, she drained her own fragile life force, growing weaker and inevitably collapsing into a deep, terrifying coma.
Desperate to keep her alive, Shining made a heartfelt pact with the vacant girl. She begged Nightingale to stop sharing her life force so recklessly until they could find a genuine cure.
But later, when they crossed paths with a severely wounded Nearl, Nightingale broke that very agreement. Without hesitation, she activated her Arts, sacrificing her own vitality to pull the Radiant Knight back from the brink of death.
That selfless act was the catalyst that bound their fates together. It was why Nearl abandoned her solitary exile to form the Followers alongside them, dedicating her shield and her life to protecting the fragile girl.
Now, standing in this room, the long, agonizing road of Shining's redemption and Nearl's deep gratitude had finally reached a crossroads. A brilliant light called hope stood right in front of them.
Shining fell to one knee, her head bowed in absolute submission. Nearl immediately followed suit, kneeling beside her companion.
"Lord Ren," Shining pleaded, her voice cracking with raw, unfiltered emotion. "Please heal Nightingale. We are willing to give you absolutely everything!"
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