Ashe drew in a sharp breath. So fast.
Harvey's cigarette toss had been sudden. There was less than a second for it to drop, but Pankey not only reacted in ti, but even fired an ice spike so fast it was almost invisible, and with uncanny precision. That cigarette butt, already burning out, was smaller than a fingertip!
If Pankey had used this move in a close-range ambush, Ashe wouldn't have stood a chance. He would have had to rely entirely on his Savage Instinct to dodge.
By now, Ashe could faintly sense what Harvey intended. The early-morning outburst wasn't about corpses alone, or at least, not entirely. After all, Harvey had spent over a year in the Shattered Lake without touching corpses. He'd only arrived in the Gospel Kingdom a few days ago. There was no way he was acting out of desire. He was a pervert, not a glutton; his cravings weren't that strong. What Harvey really wanted was to tear the mask off Annan's hypocritical face.
Annan claid to respect and care for them, but her actions told a different story. She imprisoned them, cut off all communications, and forbade any excursions. Ashe and the others had noticed and understood her reasoning, but that didn't an they accepted it.
The Fraudster hadn't lost his temper. He wanted to gather more information and was maintaining a façade of cooperation while biding his ti. The cult leader hadn't erupted either, not because he was satisfied, but because he wasn't yet tired of the food. However, after two consecutive breakfasts with the sa dishes, even Ashe, a forr death row inmate and survivor of half a month in the Shattered Lake Prison without a single repeated al, had begun to feel dissatisfied.
By laying their grievances bare, Harvey effectively forced Annan's hand. She had only two choices.
The first was to tear off her good boss mask and reveal her true identity as a slave master. "Enough pretense. Ti to reveal myself. You three will all beco my dogs!"
As for the second option...
"Mr. Harvey wants to pick fresh corpse material. And what about you three? Any requests?"
Iger didn't hold back. "This kingdom has Knowledge Screens. I want access, preferably on a large multidia screen."
Ashe said bluntly, "I want money. Yesterday, I played a virtual ga. Without spending money, there's no XP boost, no increased drop rates, no starter sets, no daily sign-in rewards. At least so money needs to go in for a proper experience."
Lys counted her wishes on her fingers. "I want lots of clothes, dolls, candies... and, and, and—"
Annan responded, "I hear all your requests. So are reasonable, so ridiculous. But as your boss, I can grant them all... if you can beat in the ga."
"Ga? What ga?" Iger asked, letting his suspicion run wild. "A complex one unique to the Gospel Kingdom?"
"No, no, no. This ga isn't complex at all. And the side with more players actually holds a huge advantage."
The Purple Moth lightly flicked her earring, letting out another soft ding. "Only if you truly understand your companions."
At that, everyone's hearts sank.
***
At Caimon University Affiliated Hospital.
The operating room lights shifted from red to green. A frail, crow-like physician erged, and the assistant waiting outside imdiately stepped forward. "Dr. Syflin, how did the surgery go?"
Syflin removed her crow mask and hood, brushing her long hair from beneath her coat. "The surgery is a success. His failed life has co to an end. I preserved all critical organs with a Miracle. Notify the morgue to collect the body. Now that I think about it, there are surprisingly many lives with no social value. In just a few days here, I've already perford three life-restart surgeries."
The assistant said with a smile. "Dr. Syflin, you're still young. It's only natural that you'd feel surprised. There are plenty like that. They refuse biological modification for work, avoid risks to earn money, have no acquaintances to borrow from, and wander bridges all day wasting ti, licking candy wrappers scavenged from trash... Only a small fraction ever reaches the hospital. These vagrants are cunning, and volunteers can't keep up."
After the Fernandez Incident, Syflin had decided to end her Blood Embrace Ritual and leave the Shattered Lake Prison. She hadn't planned to return imdiately, choosing instead to intern at a hospital to elevate both her Water and Blood Class to Gold Rank before going back.
This ti, she didn't hide her identity. She confidently presented her scholar ID from one of the four major research institutes. The hospital, willing to accommodate a princess, assigned her to their most prominent departnt—the Fourth Ergency Departnt.
Every hospital had four ergency departnts, categorized by patient type. The first three could be ignored for now. The Fourth Ergency Departnt specialized in society's marginalized, including those with low social standing, criminal records, or the inability to pay even minimal ergency fees.
Like the Corpse Processing Departnt, the Fourth Ergency Departnt was a "privileged ward," open only to Blood Saint physicians. Its work was deceptively simple. Assess whether a patient was worth saving. If they were, save them; if not, send them to the Corpse Processing Departnt.
How was a patient's value judged? Simple. Through mory extraction
Clearly, the Fourth Ergency Departnt wasn't just a place for Blood Saint sorcerers to practice dical skills. It was also a fast-track training ground for their Mind Class abilities. This explained why the Blood Moon Kingdom had no formal Mind Class training programs. Blood Saint sorcerers didn't rely on slow, conventional study. Instead, they channeled their mana to forcibly extract mories from others. Even if the patient was hard, the sorcerer gained massive Mind Class experience, advancing their skills at an astonishing rate.
It was like learning to drive without instruction: crash dozens of cars, and eventually you beco a professional road assassin. Fourth Ergency wasn't quite that extre, but after just three mory extractions, Syflin had already elevated her Mind Class to Silver Rank. The efficiency spoke for itself.
Don't get the wrong idea. The Fourth Ergency Departnt wasn't a killing floor. Most cases involved routine ergency care without harming patients. mory extraction required careful observation and analysis. Could the patient work? Would they be a burden on others, indirectly boosting productivity? Could they serve as an object of disdain, enhancing soone else's sense of superiority? The evaluation criteria were vast. Even a seemingly useless person could be kept alive if their existence improved the "ga" for others.
Only those utterly worthless to society, offering no value to others or the community, underwent a life restart procedure. And there was no risk in doing so. People no one cared about naturally had no one concerned for their life or death. Syflin had been fortunate. Her first three patients were rare, "priceless" cases, allowing her to perform mory extraction without hesitation.
Because of these advantages, Blood Saint sorcerers flocked to the Fourth Ergency Departnt. But the system had one loophole. Vagrants didn't enter the hospital voluntarily. Who picked up the trash, then?
The "volunteers" Syflin ntioned were charitable citizens who road the streets at night, cleaning up. There was always a certain group in society prowling the streets at night, targeting holess vagrants who refused loans or work. Perhaps so were influenced by Blood Saints, or perhaps not, but the vagrants were always their target. Unfortunately, most could not overco their hesitation, often stopping short of causing fatal harm. This was exactly why the Fourth Ergency Departnt ca into being.
Thanks to these volunteers, city streets were cleaner. But the clever vagrants learned to relocate strategically, leaving the sewer rats under constant pressure. However, the Administrative Departnt would soon "aid" them by adding iron grates and other restrictions to the sewers. On this urban battlefield, deserters weren't allowed.
"Dr. Syflin, a patient scheduled for bio-implant modification is waiting in your office."
Syflin frowned. "Bio-implant modification? Isn't there a more skilled doctor in the hospital... oh, I see."
The hospital had more skilled bio-modification doctors, so this patient had been assigned specifically for the Blood Saint Princess to practice on. Otherwise, if patients were assigned strictly by skill, Syflin would have spent a year twiddling her thumbs. If the hospital dared to bench her, her senior colleagues would ensure the administration paid dearly.
However, when Syflin entered the office, she imdiately realized her earlier assumption was wrong. The hospital wasn't being considerate. They were dumping a major problem on her.
Two people were in the room. One was a tall man, dressed in a hunter's coat and wearing a Heresy half-arm sleeve on his right arm. His hair was white, and his blood-red eyes were cold and weary. The other person was a lovely girl in a wheelchair. She wore an ornate dress, but had missing hands and feet. She looked like an unfinished doll.
The white-haired man said, "Hello, I am Gerard Westminster, Hunter No. 307791. This is Serena Bright."
Syflin crouched down to Serena's level. "I'm Syflin Govan. May I ask why a Bloodrage Hunter would bring a minor for treatnt? Or are you also her guardian, Mr. Hunter?"
Serena timidly said, "Hello, big sis."
"Hello, Serena," Syflin patted her head, her eyes full of gentle pity. "You have a beautiful na, just like mine."
This woman really has no sha, Serena thought.
"She's not a child from an orphanage."
"Then whose child is she?"
"My child."
Syflin turned to look at Gerard, stunned. She stepped back, closed the office door, and pressed her hand to her forehead, her face a mix of confusion. "(☉_☉) Wait... so... you're actually a woman!?"
Gerard stood. "Can I request a different doctor?"
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