Chapter 38: Mandatory Bed Rest

Viewed from the outside, the massive landship of Rhodes Island resembled a steam locomotive from the last century, ripped straight from your fragmented memories.

To the inhabitants of this barren land, it was a miraculous black box of technology, exhaling thick plumes of sand and Originium exhaust as it charged forward at a top speed of eighty kilometers per hour.

If your memory served correctly, it had taken a full five years just to excavate this colossal vessel from the earth.

Back in the Babel era, it had served as an oversized, heavily armed battleship.

It wasn’t until Theresa’s death that the surviving remnants hurriedly disarmed its primary weapons.

Closure had even completely overhauled its exterior, slapping on a fresh coat of paint to hide the scars of war.

Although every major faction knew exactly what this ship used to be, once the dust of the old conflicts settled, all it took was a little crude camouflage.

The various powers, no longer locked in direct conflicts of interest, tacitly agreed to play dumb and continue their cooperation.

It was a thoroughly unsatisfying, yet highly political compromise.

The heavy reinforced hatch slowly hissed open to welcome your returning convoy.

For some inexplicable reason, Kal’tsit—rarely seen wearing her formal attire outside of high-level negotiations—stood waiting at the entrance.

Her expression was deadpan, her sharp eyes locked squarely on you.

Was she actually touched by the improved infrastructure rotation schedule I stayed up all night to draft?

You quickly reflected on your actions over the past week.

You hadn’t committed any major blunders.

Confident in your flawless track record, you strode toward the hatch with your head held high, projecting an aura as calm and composed as Elysium on a good day.

But in Kal’tsit’s eyes, this display was alarming.

You were walking with entirely too much vigor.

The heavy heels of your tactical boots clacked rhythmically against the metal grating, and with every step, you were trampling directly on her fragile, fraying nerves.

It’s only been a few days.

How has he become even more like…

Suddenly, your imposing figure swayed.

Your boot caught on a warped threshold plate that hadn’t been properly repaired since the Babel era.

The metal creaked in protest as you tripped, your center of gravity vanishing in an instant, sending you plunging toward the deck.

“Ow—”

You only managed half a yelp before your vision violently cut to black.

The lingering remnants of Theresa’s old era had crossed the river of time just to strike you down!

Kal’tsit flinched, her stoic facade breaking for a fraction of a second as she rushed forward.

She dropped to one knee, immediately pressing two fingers against your pulse while peeling back your eyelids to inspect your unfocused pupils.

The nearby operators swarmed the area in a panic, before nervously backing up to form a respectful three-meter perimeter, craning their necks to get a look at their fallen commander.

Kal’tsit slowly lifted her gaze.

Her cold eyes swept over the anxious crowd before settling on the towering Wendigo standing nearby.

“I was informed you are his new life assistant?”

Patriot knew that the moment he acknowledged the title, he would immediately become the prime suspect in the attempted assassination of the Doctor.

Yet, under the withering, hostile glares of a dozen protective operators, he gave a slow, heavy nod.

“I…

indeed, am.

But I…

would not…

murder him…

like this.”

Kal’tsit completely ignored his defense.

“This is his own doing.”

The surrounding operators were already growing visibly restless.

Patriot’s sharp ears twitched; from the deep shadows of the hangar, he could hear the distinct, terrifying hum of six Revenant Launchers pre-heating their payload.

Wis’adel was watching.

Kal’tsit spoke unhurriedly, her voice cutting through the rising tension.

“What exactly did the Doctor do last night?”

Patriot, who had been bracing himself for an all-out brawl, paused.

“Went to…

the temporary shelter.

Brought out…

Mephisto.”

“I see.

And the day before yesterday, he stayed up all night micromanaging the infrastructure rotations.

What about the night before that?”

“He had…

just finished…

a battle…

with us.”

Kal’tsit gave a slow, clinical nod.

“Then the root of the problem is obvious.

He hasn’t closed his eyes for three consecutive days and simply collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

And you, as his designated assistant, failed to notice his condition entirely.”

Patriot:…?

This is…

my…

fault?

The ancient warrior once again felt the staggering biological chasm between human and Wendigo constitutions.

He even entertained a fleeting, absurd thought: Rhodes Island doesn’t need to worry about assassins.

If left entirely unsupervised, this man will simply work himself to death in a matter of days.

In the shadows, the lethal resonance of the six Revenant Launchers quietly powered down.

Patriot vaguely caught the sound of a disappointed click of the tongue, followed by a muttered, “Pah!

So weak?”

Kal’tsit suppressed the urge to sigh.

Forget it.

Any plans for an interrogation will have to wait until this idiot wakes up.

“By the way, originally the old feline was carrying you bridal style toward the infirmary with a completely blank expression,” Warfarin explained, her red eyes gleaming with wicked amusement.

“But halfway there, you suddenly woke up for a split second, started thrashing around, and yelled something about ‘forgetting to take the blank will.’ During your little fit, you accidentally backhanded the shrunken version of Mon3tr right into the gap of a sensor door.

It got wedged in so tight it couldn’t be pried out.”

Warfarin leaned closer, adding with a gloating smirk, “So, having run out of patience, she simply grabbed you by one ankle and dragged you the rest of the way down the hall.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

And you didn’t even wake up during the bumpy ride.”

No wonder my face felt like it had been run over by a rockbreaker when I woke up!

“So…

what is Kal’tsit doing right now?” you asked, carefully tilting your head to dodge Warfarin’s subtle attempts to lean in.

The vampire was trying to sneak a lick of the dried blood on your cheek, which had been scraped raw by the floorboards.

Sister Warfarin, it’s not that I’m being stingy with my blood, but our current physical proximity is getting incredibly weird.

Even a shameless gamer had some basic boundaries!

Failing to secure her snack, Warfarin slumped back with a dramatic, disappointed sigh.

“What else would she be doing?

She’s still down there trying to pry Mon3tr out of the wall.

You know how things are on the landship right now—the maintenance crew is swamped, and no one knows how to fix that specific door frame.

If Mon3tr expands to its full size to break free, it’ll completely destroy the bulkhead.”

You: “…”

Thinking about it logically…

the old lynx should be in a relatively decent mood lately, right?

I haven’t committed any actual war crimes this week, right?

Warfarin chuckled darkly and placed a heavily insulated lunchbox on your bedside table.

An ominous, faintly radioactive scent immediately began leaking from the seams.

“Hibiscus’s special nutritional meal.

She saved this batch specifically for you.

Kal’tsit left strict orders: this is the only thing you are allowed to eat for the next few days.”

Swallowing hard, you mustered your courage and lifted one corner of the lid.

The ‘refreshing’ aroma of zucchini violently stewed with eggplant instantly assaulted the room, burning your nostrils.

“Ugh…

cough, cough…

blech…”

A hoarse, desperate retching sound suddenly echoed from the adjacent hospital bed.

You turned your head.

Lying in the neighboring cot, looking pale and thoroughly broken, was the little sociopath himself—Mephisto.

You had already resigned yourself to a few days of miserable confinement, but looking at your new roommate, you felt a spark of genuine amusement.

Caught completely off guard, Mephisto locked eyes with the architect of his recent nightmares.

The sheer terror in the boy’s eyes was so intense he nearly scrambled backward off the mattress.

In all his twisted life, he had never encountered a criminal mastermind ten thousand times more deranged and hedonistic than himself!

Before you could properly torment your neighbor, a chorus of noisy, excited voices erupted from the corridor outside.

A group of young Feline operators sprinted past the open door, broadcasting the news to anyone who would listen.

“It’s out!

Mon3tr has been pried out!”

“Who managed to get it?

Didn’t they say Dr.

Kal’tsit’s fingers were too short to reach the latch?”

“It was Degenbrecher from Karlan Trade!

I knew she could do it!”

“By the gods!

Lady Black Knight!

The absolute peak of womanhood!

The alpha among alphas!”

Your blood ran cold.

It’s over.

Mon3tr was free, which meant Kal’tsit was currently marching down the hallway to settle the score.

[Rhodes’s Note:

Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?

(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent!

to use the links!)