As Charles finished speaking, the series of small lines ending with "failure" on the system interface began to disappear, replaced by the system’s solution: perform surgery simultaneously on the heart, liver, kidneys, and other necessary organs—a total of eleven procedures—to ensure the infant’s survival.
At the sa ti, to guarantee successful surgery, "Cure Wounds" would be needed at both the start and the end to sustain the vital force of each organ; otherwise, given the newborn’s fragile vitality, she would not survive until the operation’s conclusion.
At the very bottom of the plan, the total treatnt cost was displayed: 2215.
That’s expensive...
Charles sighed, but he did not give up. Then he turned and glanced at the other witches behind him, "Does anyone know Cure Wounds?"
Sophia, Theresa, and Nidalee all raised their hands at once. "I do."
One had broad knowledge, one had worked hard to infiltrate the Church of the Goddess of Life, and one was a druid by nature—for them, Cure Wounds was second nature.
As for the other girls, they couldn’t contribute much.
Charles nodded slightly, "All right. When the surgery begins, I’ll direct things. Sophia and Theresa, take turns using Cure Wounds to sustain the infant’s life."
The three nodded, while the other nuns stepped back. Charles and those three surrounded the baby. Without further delay, he took a deep breath and said, "Begin, system!"
At his command, a milky purified light appeared, covering the infant’s body. Then, several scalpels, hemostats, and other instrunts floated into the air, each going to its assigned spot on the infant and beginning to cut and remodel.
Sophia and Theresa, as Charles requested, took turns spellcasting to sustain the infant’s life. Nidalee, whose mana reserves were too low, was kept as backup, only to step in for ergencies.
Everything seed to be proceeding smoothly. Charles was tense, waiting in silence.
Ti passed, second by second; the system’s efficiency remained impressive. After about half an hour, the system interface suddenly popped up with a line of text:
Attention: The surgery is entering its final stage. Please, when the countdown reaches zero, within eight seconds, cast Cure Wounds simultaneously on all eleven surgical wounds.
On the system interface, eleven red dots were marked on the baby’s body. Then, a one-minute countdown appeared, tick-tocking down second by second.
Charles froze.
Eight seconds, eleven wounds... aning eleven spells?
Are you kidding ?
Cure Wounds isn’t like Shield or Absorb Elents, which can be fired off instantly with just a single incantation and gesture. Like Burning Hands or Fireball, it requires a full incantation and somatic component to manifest as an empowered spell.
So, to complete one such spell, even the most skilled spellcaster would need at least five seconds.
But here at the scene—it couldn’t have been more unfortunate—even counting himself with a spellbook, only four people could cast Cure Wounds.
Eight seconds would barely let each of them cast two spells, totaling a maximum of eight. That ant at least three organs would go unrepaired.
Charles faltered for a mont. For an instant, he wanted to tell Andny, Maybe we can’t save her—maybe I just can’t do it.
But seeing the Insects Witch, jaw clenched and her face drawn with worry, he could not say such a thing.
I cannot let my girl endure such agony.
So...
He would once again have to rely on his cheat.
He glanced at his system balance—thirteen thousand and so. Not a huge sum, but just enough to level up.
"System," he called silently in his mind. "Level up!"
"Select Feat: Quickened Spell!"
Level eight—another chance to choose a Feat. It was fortunate that a Feat existed to solve this precise crisis.
Quickened Spell.
This was tamagic—its effect was to spend an extra two spell slots to compress most of the incantation and components, thereby significantly shortening the ti to cast spells.
In essence, spells with a casting ti of ten seconds or less could be compressed to two seconds, even a single second!
Buzz—
A milky purified white light flashed, twelve thousand Purification Points were spent, and his flush of recent wealth disappeared in an instant.
But at that mont, he felt no regrets.
"Sophia, Theresa, Nidalee, listen," he continued. "When I give the word, cast Cure Wounds at the fastest possible speed, aiming at the locations I specify. Cast two each."
"Sophia, you target the heart and the lungs; Theresa, the heart and the stomach; Nidalee, both kidneys."
He drew a deep breath. "Everyone rember?"
All three girls nodded, their expressions unusually serious. The scalpel still danced in the air. They didn’t understand the process or its principles, but all could sense that the true challenge was about to begin.
"All right, then—"
Eyes fixed on the system’s countdown, when only four seconds remained, he suddenly cried, "Begin!"
Instantly, all three girls began incantations, and Charles grabbed his spellbook, chanting as well.
Four seconds flew by; one second after the system prompt to cast Cure Wounds within eight seconds, all four Cure Wounds spells were completed and landed directly on the infant’s body!
A warm white glow erged. The incised organs swiftly healed, the system-implanted remodels perfectly integrating.
Then, Sophia, Theresa, and Nidalee each incanted a second round, continuing treatnt. Charles’s eyes blazed. In less than two seconds, he had finished a new incantation: "C W!"
Buzz—
His incantation was reduced to just two letters, his gesture to a simple flick. Massive magic power surged through him, and beam after beam of white light flashing out, sealing the surgical wounds.
Behind them, Andny looked up in shock. Her limited knowledge could not fathom why her Master was suddenly able to cast so rapidly!
But confusion quickly faded, replaced by awestruck worship on her face.
Master is omnipotent!
That idea took root the mont it sprouted, and she accepted it without question.
At the sa ti, the eight seconds elapsed. Theresa and the others finished their second round right on ti, healing every one of the girl’s wounds.
On the system interface—visible only to Charles—four golden words appeared: Perfect Success.
"Whew..."
He let out a long sigh, sweat glistening on his brow. The ntal strain he’d just endured was considerable.
A single 1st-level spell slot for Cure Wounds cost two points; Quickened Spell cost an additional two. One normal and four quickened casts—within those eight seconds, he had spent a total of eighteen spell slots.
Note: It takes thirteen spell slots for a 9th-level spell that takes eight seconds to cast.
And he had just burned through eighteen points—as an 8th-level spellcaster. The burden of such magical output on his mind and being was almost unimaginable.
That’s why he’d never wanted to spend a precious 8th-level Feat slot on "Quickened Spell" before; while it could massively boost his output, the strain and side effects were obvious.
This Feat was not suited for a war of attrition.
Still, for Andny’s happiness, it was all worth it.
He turned and smiled. "The surgery was a complete success."
At these words, Sophia, Theresa, and Nidalee all exhaled in relief.
Fortunately, their efforts had not been wasted.
"Hooray!"
With a cry of delight, Andny threw herself into Charles’s arms, weeping with joy. He wore a satisfied smile, gently returning the embrace of her slender, fragile fra—feeling that every struggle had been worthwhile.
Beside them, Hattie pulled out a handkerchief and softly wiped away the sweat from Charles’s brow, her voice warm: "Thank you for all your hard work."
Charles gently caressed Andny’s hair, then looked over to the spiderborn infant. "It was worth it."
Andny let go of his arm, stepped to the side, and took out the silk blanket she’d prepared, carefully wrapping up the still-unconscious spiderborn.
Her movents were gentle, like a truly loving mother. Then she looked up at Charles, eyes full of hope: "Master, would you please na her?"
Everyone’s attention instantly focused on him.
"Hmm..." Charles pondered. Truth was, he was terrible at nas—especially having to give a Western-style na to a little girl was no easy feat.
After a long pause, he finally dredged one from his throat, the na of a spider queen: "Let’s call her Elise."
"Elise Charles. From today, that will be her na."
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