Chapter 813: The Followers: Shining, Nightingale, and Nearl! Self-Infected
Theresa, W, and Amiya filed out of the room, the heavy mechanical doors of the conference room sliding shut behind them with a soft hiss. Only Ren and Kal'tsit remained in the quiet space.
Kal'tsit walked over to a nearby storage locker and pulled out a crisp, white Rhodes Island medical coat. She held it out to him.
"Put this on."
Ren leaned back in the plush leather chair, raising a single eyebrow. "I'm not exactly a licensed medical professional. Do I really need to play dress-up?"
"At the very least, allow the operators to believe you are one," Kal'tsit replied, her tone perfectly measured. "It will save us from tedious and unnecessary explanations."
"Alright, alright." Seeing the stubborn glint in her emerald eyes, Ren spread his arms out in a lazy, indifferent gesture. A teasing smirk curved his lips. "Why don't you dress me yourself, then?"
Kal'tsit's shoulders stiffened. A sharp, quiet intake of breath slipped past her lips.
Yet, she did not refuse.
She was acutely aware of her current position. She belonged to Ren now. Her pride had already been surrendered.
Stepping forward, she draped the white coat over his shoulders, her movements careful and precise. She slid his arms through the sleeves, then stepped around to the front of the desk to straighten his collar.
Just as her slender fingers brushed against the fabric, a large hand wrapped around her waist.
"Mnh—" A soft, startled hum escaped Kal'tsit's throat.
Before she could process the sudden shift in gravity, Ren pulled her forward. She tumbled right into his lap, his arms locking securely around her waist. A rare flash of genuine panic broke through her usual stoic mask.
"You... what are you doing?" she stammered, her hands pressing against his chest.
"Nothing much," Ren murmured, his voice dropping to a low, lazy drawl. "Just wanted to get a little closer to my favorite cat before the patients arrive."
He sat comfortably in the high-backed chair behind her own desk, while the esteemed head of Rhodes Island's medical department was trapped straddling his lap.
"Ren," Kal'tsit whispered, her voice tight. "No proper doctor conducts consultations with a patient while sitting in a conference room like this."
She hadn't even finished processing the implications of his setup before he moved.
"Ungh—!"
Her emerald eyes widened to their absolute limits. Her entire body locked up, going completely rigid.
Ren had leaned in and lightly caught her sensitive lynx ear between his teeth.
A violent, electric jolt shot straight from the tip of her ear down her spine, pooling in her lower stomach. Her fingers instinctively curled inward, tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt as a flush rapidly spread across her pale neck.
A long moment passed.
Realizing her breathing was growing ragged and her posture was melting against him, Kal'tsit curled her toes inside her boots. She forced herself to speak, her voice barely a hushed, trembling whisper.
"They... they are about to arrive."
"Oh? Are they?" Ren chuckled, his breath tickling the sensitive fur of her ear before he finally released it.
Kal'tsit let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.
But that relief lasted exactly one second.
A warm, demanding pressure captured her lips. Ren shifted his assault, kissing her deeply. Kal'tsit's mind blanked. She realized, with a hazy sense of defeat, that there was absolutely no escaping him.
A soft click echoed through the room.
The conference room doors slid open.
Kal'tsit instantly broke the kiss, practically scrambling off his lap and ducking beneath the edge of the heavy desk just as the visitors stepped inside, leaving Ren sitting there looking perfectly composed.
It wasn't his first scheduled patient, Nightingale, who walked through the door.
Instead, two distinct figures entered. One was a tall woman shrouded in a heavy black robe, and the other was a dazzling, golden-haired knight.
The golden knight scanned the room, her gaze landing on the single man sitting casually behind Dr. Kal'tsit's desk.
"Lord Ren. We meet again," she greeted, her voice clear and resonant.
Ren offered a slight nod, his posture relaxed. "Nearl. It's been a while. You seem a bit more reserved than the last time we crossed paths."
The radiant, golden-haired woman was indeed Margaret Nearl, the former competitive knight he had encountered back in the ruins of Chernobog.
Beside her stood a white-haired woman with striking Sarkaz horns protruding from her head, her features partially obscured by the dark hood of her robe. As expected, this was Shining.
"I assume you're here for Nightingale?" Ren asked, leaning his elbows on the desk.
He remembered the lore surrounding these three. They were known as the Followers, a wandering Infected aid group consisting of Nearl, Shining, and Nightingale.
True to their name, their primary mission was to travel the harsh lands of Terra, providing medical assistance and sanctuary to those suffering from Oripathy.
However, just because they were a medical group didn't mean they were soft targets. Both Nearl and Shining possessed terrifying combat prowess, more than capable of utterly crushing anyone foolish enough to threaten their ward.
Right now, they had sought refuge at Rhodes Island purely because Nightingale's condition, both her physical Oripathy and her severe cognitive fragmentation, had deteriorated to a critical level. Rhodes Island offered the best palliative care available. It made perfect sense that her protectors would seek him out the moment they heard a cure was possible.
"That is correct," Nearl nodded firmly. She then cast a sideways glance at her companion.
Since the moment she stepped into the room, Shining's gaze had been locked onto Ren. Her hands, hidden beneath her robes, instinctively tightened around the hilt of the longsword she carried.
It wasn't hostility. It was the primal, screaming instinct of a master swordswoman standing before an apex predator. Even though Ren sat there looking like a perfectly ordinary, unarmed man, every combat sense Shining possessed warned her that the man behind that desk was an unfathomable abyss.
Seeing her companion frozen in a tense daze, Nearl raised an eyebrow. "Shining? Did you want to speak first, or shall I?"
Shining blinked, snapping out of her trance. She slowly lowered her gaze to the floor and remained silent.
Nearl understood the silent deferral perfectly.
"Then I will speak for us," Nearl said, turning her full attention back to Ren. Her expression grew deadly serious. "Mr. Ren, Dr. Kal'tsit informed us of your unique capabilities. She claims you possess the power to completely cure Oripathy, as well as repair severe mental trauma."
She paused, her golden eyes searching his face. "Although such a claim sounds utterly impossible to anyone else on Terra, I am willing to place my trust in you."
"Oh?" Ren looked mildly amused. "And why are you so quick to trust me?"
"Because I was there," Nearl stated, her voice ringing with absolute conviction. "I personally witnessed you stand alone against the Catastrophe in Chernobog. I watched you shatter a natural disaster with your own hands. Such power defies all logic."
Even though time had passed, the apocalyptic imagery of that day was permanently burned into Nearl's memory. She had never seen a mortal wield the power to casually disperse a Catastrophe. It was, by all definitions, a divine miracle.
Because of that, when Kal'tsit explained the situation and the proposed treatment, Nearl didn't hesitate. She believed the man who could break the sky could heal a shattered body.
"That little display?" Ren shrugged, brushing off the praise as if she had complimented him on the weather. "That was just a fraction of insignificant power."
The Ren of back then and the Ren sitting before them now were on entirely different planes of existence.
Nearl simply assumed he was being humble.
She took a slow breath, preparing to address the heaviest part of the conversation. "We are also fully aware of the price Dr. Kal'tsit mentioned."
The price of sacrificing everything. Body, loyalty, and future.
Nearl stepped forward, her posture rigid but her eyes burning with resolve. "If you can truly, completely cure Nightingale, we do not care what price must be paid. We will pay it willingly."
Her tone shifted, growing protective. "However. Because this involves Nightingale's fragile state, we must first verify the safety and reality of your treatment method."
Nearl exhaled a heavy, complex breath. "Huu... Shining. Begin."
Without a word, Shining calmly set her sheathed longsword against the wall. She reached up and pulled back her dark hood, revealing a breathtakingly beautiful, yet chillingly stoic face.
But she didn't stop there.
She gripped the fabric of her left sleeve and tore it open.
Ren's eyes narrowed slightly.
There, on her pale forearm, was a fresh, jagged wound bleeding bright crimson. And embedded directly into the raw, torn flesh were several jagged, glittering black Originium crystals.
"You deliberately jammed raw Originium crystals into your own arm to infect yourself?" Ren asked, genuine surprise coloring his tone.
Shining gave a slow, singular nod. Her expression didn't even twitch from the agonizing pain of acute infection.
"Tsk." Ren shook his head, a mix of disbelief and respect in his eyes. "You girls are completely insane. Using your own bodies as test subjects just for a friend."
Shining looked up, her piercing gaze meeting his directly. "She is a friend worth entrusting our lives to," she said softly.
"Is that right?" Ren murmured. The corner of his mouth ticked upward. "Come here, then."
Shining exchanged a brief, heavy look with Nearl before stepping slowly toward the desk.
Ren didn't bother standing up. He simply raised his right hand, resting his elbow on the armrest.
Under the intense, unblinking scrutiny of both Nearl and Shining, Ren reached out and gently interlocked his fingers with Shining's bloodied, crystal-studded hand.
The next second.
A brilliant, pure white light flared to life, washing over Shining's arm. It pulsed with a warm, soothing energy for a brief moment before fading into the air.
As the light dissipated, the stoic masks of both veteran warriors shattered.
Shining and Nearl stared at the arm, their eyes wide with absolute, unfiltered shock.
The bleeding had completely stopped. The jagged, torn flesh had knitted back together smoothly, leaving no scar behind.
But most terrifyingly of all, the lethal, incurable black Originium crystals had vanished without a trace, leaving behind nothing but pristine, smooth skin.
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