Chapter 55: You Really Are a Medical Genius!

“Draw as much as you want.

Whatever’s left in the syringe can be your little extra snack!” You rolled up your sleeves once again, offering your arm with a bright, sunny smile despite the noticeable pallor creeping across your cheeks.

The wonders of advanced Terra technology meant that drawing blood was practically painless—a massive blessing for someone like you, whose fear of pain bordered on the pathological.

But despite your generous insistence, Warfarin yanked the needle away.

She clutched the second vial to her chest and vehemently shook her head.

“No more, absolutely not!

I, Warfarin, may be greedy, but even I have a bottom line!”

She shot up from her stool and slammed both hands onto the stainless steel table.

For a brief, fleeting second, the holy light of medical justice seemed to radiate from her petite frame.

“We are Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals, not some unscrupulous black-market blood bank!

Kal’tsit explicitly warned me that you are still in the recovery phase!”

She looked incredibly determined.

Righteous, even.

You just offered a gentle, knowing smile.

Instead of pulling your arm back, you pressed a finger against the crook of your elbow, applying just enough pressure to the vein to squeeze out a single, dark red bead of blood from the puncture wound.

The blood of a pure, pre-civilization human.

The moment it hit the open air, it rapidly oxidized, releasing a fatal, intoxicating aroma that was fundamentally irresistible to any Blood Fiend.

Warfarin, who had just been standing in righteous indignation, instantly felt her knees go weak.

Her crimson eyes began to dart around the room, her gaze wandering wildly as she swallowed her words.

Unhurried, you placed a fingertip against that single bead of blood.

With deliberate slowness, you smeared the crimson stain evenly across your pale wrist, maximizing the surface area exposed to the air.

The scent bloomed, growing exponentially more alluring.

Under the harsh glare of the shadowless surgical lamp, that smear of bright red was captivating.

Warfarin swallowed loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

“…Don’t even think about it!

If I keep colluding with you, Kal’tsit really will find a silver cross and nail me to the hull!

The fundamental difference between a mature Blood Fiend and a feral whelp is the ability to control one’s base desires!”

Another drop of blood welled up.

This time, your fingertip traced an even slower path across your skin, dragging the crimson fluid into the shape of a perfect infinity symbol—’∞’.

Warfarin’s cheeks flushed a deep, feverish red.

It wasn’t embarrassment.

It was the sheer, agonizing strain of holding back her biological instincts.

‘She can actually endure this much?’

Feigning surprise, you raised your wrist toward your own face and lightly tasted the flavor on your fingertip.

“Hmm.

It’s a bit thick, and the rust-like iron taste is a little too strong.

Is that why it doesn’t appeal to you…”

You didn’t even get to finish the sentence.

Before the words fully left your mouth, Warfarin had already lunged.

She was face-down on your wrist, her tongue desperately lapping at the infinity symbol while literal tears streamed from the corners of her eyes.

“Delicious…

so delicious…

It’s too wonderful.

I’m sorry, Kal’tsit…”

She was completely entranced, utterly defeated by a mere taste.

‘How can this person smell so damn good?!’

You smiled without a word.

Aside from the Sarkaz, nearly all genetic material on Terra was inherited from the pre-civilization era.

The sheer purity of your blood was higher than a concentrated stew made from every single Ancient on the planet.

If Warfarin could actually resist this, you would officially stop raiding Canot’s shop on the sixth floor of the Integrated Strategies roguelike!

“Warfarin, look over here,” you chimed pleasantly, tapping the screen of your terminal.

You showed her the video you had just recorded as she finally finished licking the last traces of blood and looked up, panting.

“The esteemed Dr.

Warfarin, face-down and aggressively sucking blood from a wound right after the Doctor already had three vials drawn…

You wouldn’t want this little clip accidentally forwarded to Kal’tsit’s inbox, would you?”

While Warfarin’s conscience as a medical professional screamed in agony, her body was remarkably honest.

Her trembling hands reached for a fresh syringe.

“This is the last time.

I swear on my life, this is the very last bit!

Not a single drop more!”

“That’s exactly what you said about the third vial.”

“Damn it!

No, no, no, this time is different!

Four vials is my absolute limit!

Absolutely not one drop more!”

“Fine, fine, fine.

Just draw it first.”

“This is absolutely, definitely the last vial!”

Half an hour later, looking paler than a sheet of paper, you slipped out of the blood-testing room.

Your pockets were heavy with seven vials of dark red blood, and your hands clutched a steaming thermos filled with a thick, questionable soup of red dates, wolfberries, and stewed beast liver that Warfarin had frantically forced upon you.

“Brother, you’re my brother, I beg you, you must drink every drop of that!

Kal’tsit is actually going to murder me this time…” Warfarin had sobbed as she shoved you out the door.

‘What’s the panic?’you thought to yourself.’Back in my world, when donating blood earned you extra college credits, the campus nurses were way more ruthless than you!’

Although your vision was starting to swim in dark, pulsing waves, you didn’t feel like you were actually going to faint.

As you shuffled down the corridor, you spotted a familiar feline figure approaching.

You casually shoved the thermos of soup—a concoction that provided immense nutritional value but absolutely zero emotional value—straight into the hands of the passing Blaze.

“Drink up,” you instructed smoothly.

“Try to make sure your Alter form can automatically lock its health after burning your blood down to the last drop!”

Blaze blinked, completely failing to understand your meta-gaming gibberish.

But her eyes sparkled at the gesture.

The Doctor had prepared hot soup just for her!

She lowered her head and sniffed the thermos, instantly catching the rich scent of stewed meat.

Her feline ears flicked upright in pure excitement.

“Thanks, buddy—eh?

Wait a minute.

Why do you look so pale?”

You immediately went on the offensive, locking your expression into a mask of deadly seriousness.

“Because I just reviewed the logistics report.

I saw that you broke two blocks of D32 Steel yesterday.

Do you have any idea how long it took me to farm those materials?”

Blaze’s ears instantly flattened against her head.

“Uh…

that…

I was drunk!

I don’t remember a thing…”

Her bright blue eyes darted around the hallway, looking anywhere but at you, while her thick tail began to thud against the floor in uneasy, rhythmic thumps.

“Don’t let it happen again.” You sighed softly, standing on your tiptoes to give the big cat a reassuring pat on the head.

Blaze shook her ears, leaning into the touch with clear enjoyment, before clapping you on the shoulder with enough force to rattle your teeth.

“You’re a good buddy!

I’m off!”

Overwhelmed by guilt, she vanished down the end of the hallway like a flash of lightning.

You slowly leaned against the wall to steady yourself.

You had almost been forced into a system shutdown by that single, friendly slap!

Luckily, she had fled.

If she had stayed even a minute longer, she would have seen right through your bluff.

For a seasoned battlefield veteran like Blaze, the physical difference between excessive blood loss and just looking a little unwell was glaringly obvious.

Fortunately, you didn’t run into any more acquaintances on your way back.

You slipped into your private lab, locked the door, grabbed a centrifuge, and immediately got to work.

Relatively speaking, you really weren’t a genius at biology.

Fortunately, you had known exactly what Originium was for a very long time, and you harbored absolutely no grand, messianic ambitions to ‘save all of Terra’.

You didn’t have the capacity to research and mass-produce Originium suppressants for the entire world, but enjoying a little special treatment on a small scale was more than enough.

After separating the plasma and purifying the samples, you casually added a few drops of the most basic suppressant stock solution.

Before your eyes, the dark red blood reacted, shifting and brightening until it turned into a breathtakingly beautiful liquid gold.

You carefully used a glass dropper to extract a tiny bead of the golden liquid, holding it over an experimental Originium Slug secured in a glass enclosure.

You let it drip.

The next moment, a miracle occurred.

The jagged black Originium crystals on the slug’s back melted and split apart like warm water washing over sugar, dissolving completely to expose the chubby, uninfected flesh beneath.

For a world like Terra, which had been plagued and suffocated by Oripathy for centuries, this was nothing short of a divine miracle.

It was akin to turning stone into gold.

‘As expected,’you mused.’The only reason Oripathy became a terminal, incurable disease was the lack of the correct medicinal base.’

You carefully sealed the vials of golden blood one by one.

Then, you accessed the PRTS terminal and permanently deleted the blackmail video of Warfarin—a clip that, if leaked, could probably drive half the medical department mad.

Unfortunately, you weren’t the great Prophet who wanted to save everyone.

You only cared about protecting the small group of little animals huddled under your own umbrella.

Meanwhile, far away in Kazimierz, up in the dusty attic of the Nearl Family estate.

The weary-faced, blond-haired uncle held his phone to his ear, quietly enduring the daily humiliation of corporate life.

“Yes…

yes, of course.

I’ll get it done right away…

Thanks to your guidance, sir.

I definitely won’t betray your trust…

You’re joking, how would I dare complain?

Please, I can’t afford to lose this job…”

“…Those executives from Rhodes Island are arriving soon, and the company is completely swamped with work!

You need to…”

The middle-management voice on the other end of the line was still shouting, but Młynar suddenly couldn’t hear the words clearly anymore.

The noise faded into a dull buzz.

‘People from Rhodes Island are coming.’

So…

will that person who just woke up be coming too?

Młynar subconsciously lowered his gaze, looking down at his hands.

Or rather, at the gauntlets resting nearby.

Though the heavy armor engraved with the proud crest of the Nearl Family was carefully maintained, polished to a dull shine, it was already very old.

It carried the weight of too many years.

“…Did you hear me?!

Młynar!

Młynar?

Młynar!”

“Sorry.

Sorry, my apologies…” Młynar answered submissively, forcing his tone back into the mold of a beaten-down wage slave.

The Ranger who used to shout chuunibyou lines with him—the one who would yell those embarrassing, dramatic phrases while blushing furiously—was already dead.

But what about his old Commander?

Is he doing well?

[Rhodes’s Note: “D32 Steel” is one of the highest-tier, most notoriously difficult-to-craft elite materials in Arknights, requiring massive amounts of lower-tier resources to synthesize.

“IS” refers to Integrated Strategies, the roguelike game mode in Arknights, where Canot serves as the elusive rogue trader.]

[Rhodes’s Note:

Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?

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

to use the links!)