Without room for thought, she instinctively thrust her deeply insectoid forelimb at Fran.
The next moment, the Chimera Spine "Sphinx" deftly flicked its sharp tailbone, cleanly severing Louisa's hand at the shoulder.
"Ah!"
An almost piercing scream rang out. Before Louisa could react, her severed arm was already in Fran's hand.
"Most of the blood in the capillaries has become nearly colorless, and the muscle and bone have mutated. It seems your condition is deteriorating rapidly..."
She examined the cross-section of the severed arm with a scrutinizing gaze, quickly assessing the body's true state.
Simultaneously, confusion and terror, like serpents, coiled in Louisa's mind, gnawing at her dwindling sanity.
The flesh and bone that even Pseudomorph Steel couldn't cut through... and the thing that emerged from her spine just sliced it off with a light flick? Could the difference in the stage and method of Molt really be this vast?
Louisa felt the noise in her mind could no longer be suppressed. To alleviate the bone-deep agitation, she swung her other saw-blade-like chelicera at Fran almost recklessly.
"The loss of rationality is faster than expected. She'll probably be assimilated by the Sacred Spawn remnant soon."
Seeing she had already lost her earlier caution, Fran no longer planned to continue the diagnosis process. She casually commanded the Sphinx's bladed foot to slice off Louisa's remaining arm.
Before the Moth cult information broker could react, that arm was also taken by Fran.
She tapped the two severed arms together with interest, as if holding glow sticks at a concert.
"I've always been curious. Chitin is such a soft substance, with nearly weak structural support. How does it become so hard? Materials science is truly mysterious."
"Perhaps it's just a substance with the same name, with a different molecular arrangement. If we could achieve a more stable connection using organic covalent bonds, we wouldn't need to rely so much on fragile van der Waals forces..."
Fran's self-absorbed muttering made Louisa even more frantic.
Can't win, can't escape, but this person also refuses to kill her. As a disciple who follows the Night Moth, this was the first time she felt so deeply unsettled... nearly driven mad by this strange individual.
Noticing the already hysterical glare, Fran reluctantly put down the two severed arms.
"Oh, my apologies. Kept you waiting, Ms. Louisa..."
She snapped her fingers lightly. With the crisp sound, Louisa felt an intense wave of weakness surge from the depths of her mind.
Not drowsiness or dizziness, but "weakness." She wanted to drive her remaining legs to flee again, but all commands to move her body seemed locked within her brain, unable to leak out even a thread.
No trace, no spirituality, no signal of any kind. The entire interference happened in utter silence.
"Hmm, the fusion level is quite deep. Need to peel it all off..."
Fran activated the faint luminous field of [Drive Away Dust and Filth], then took out the Wraithbone Lancet from her medicine case.
As a near-white-hot gleam flashed across the blade, she began the separation surgery.
It was a long and painful process. Even with Louisa's pain tolerance, nearly at the High Priest level, she felt excruciating agony. If she could still speak, she would probably only beg for a quick death.
The dignity, pride, common sense, or whatever else remained of a Night Moth disciple... had been utterly destroyed earlier.
This doctor had easily interfered with her mind, stripped her of her mobility, while she was continuously chanting [Hound Mimicry], with no signs revealed throughout the process.
What humiliation was this?
Though the pain was intense, Fran's surgical movements were fast and precise. In no time, a pile of discarded black chitin lay on the ground.
As she made the final cut, Louisa's chewing mandibles were completely removed, leaving only a bloody jaw.
"There. Ms. Louisa, you are no longer being eroded by this Sacred Spawn remnant."
Fran spent some more time reattaching her two cleaned-up arms, then performed some wound treatment to promote healing.
After ensuring Louisa wouldn't die from subsequent infection, she summoned the surrounding pale grey mist and tossed her out of the Fog Street.
Louisa, seemingly still in a daze, only then realized she had left that nightmarish grey-cold street. The seemingly perpetual sea of mist was also gone.
"Whew... truly satisfying."
Fran squinted her eyes contentedly, letting out a nearly relieved sigh.
She then removed the blood-stained rubber gloves and began collecting the scattered shell fragments. Such dangerous medical waste shouldn't be left around for cats or dogs to pick up.
As for whether Louisa might die from blood loss afterward, that wasn't within Fran's scope of practice.
Birth, aging, sickness, and death are the human condition. How could she presumptuously interfere...
Besides, this was just a spur-of-the-moment treatment, not this month's "Monthly House Call." Reaching this extent was undoubtedly already fulfilling humanitarian care.
After packing the crustacean-like remains into a special container, Fran raised her index finger, gently poked into the soft chest feathers of the raven on her shoulder, and gave a comforting scratch.
"Little Munin, don't tell Vivian, okay? I hope this stays our secret."
"Caw."
Munin nodded crisply in compliance.
Although it had seen this doctor's methods back at the Children of the Whiskered Tree library, watching up close now was even more astonishing. The deterrence was also stronger...
---
In the shadows of a deep alley, Louisa's gaze was nearly unfocused, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.
Pain, defeat, confusion, and fear of that doctor filled her thoughts. Like a nightmare clinging to her, unable to be dispelled.
"Heh, heh... hee..."
"I saw new life emerge from the pupa, I saw the mottled patterns in the midnight woodland... What a melodious chant, what beautiful wing robes, what real deceit... Heh..."
After a while, Louisa finally made a sound, but it carried an indescribable sense of grotesqueness.
Like panic, sobbing, or sycophantic laughter.
This Night Moth-worshipping information broker... had gone mad.
---
Odington Street, No. 117. A simple building in the alley.
"Whew, never thought information work would involve so much physical labor... This uncle is way heavier than the sandbags at the docks."
After a rather intense pursuit, Bartley finally collapsed from exhaustion. Detreka initially tried to help him up, but this uncle weighing over 80 kilograms net weight was simply beyond her ability to move.
Not to mention he had a load of heavy equipment.
After several failed attempts, she went to the street and borrowed a wooden handcart used for deliveries, finally managing to get him home.
After dragging Bartley inside, Detreka nearly collapsed and sat on the floor.
If she hadn't been doing heavy physical labor at Foy Port since childhood, she probably would have given up halfway.
"No good. Leaving him like this, he'll probably bleed to death. Gotta think of something..."
Detreka had some experience with external wound treatment and kept some simple medicines at home. But Bartley's condition clearly wasn't something simple "bandaging" could solve.
He had three or four deep blade wounds in his side, potentially damaging internal organs. His shoulder blade had a lead pellet wound deep enough to see the bone.
"How did he manage to chase me half a street with injuries like this..."
Just a simple observation of the wounds left Detreka feeling overwhelmed.
With her amateur bandaging skills, she might even worsen his injuries.
Also, he left a trail of blood. Would the police or the Stellar Abyss Society come knocking tomorrow...
Just as she was troubled, a knocking sound came from the door.
"Is this Ms. Detreka's home?"
Outside, it was Fran's voice.
Although Detreka had only met Fran once on the Leviathan, it left a very deep impression, impossible to forget even if she tried.
The visitor being familiar eased Detreka's mind.
As she approached the door, intending to check through the peephole... she heard the lock click open, as if the door had never been bolted.
"Good evening, Detreka."
Maintaining an almost relaxed smile, Fran pushed the door open and walked in.
"Ah, hello, Ms. Vivian."
For some reason, Detreka felt this doctor was in a good mood. Besides... she carried a faint hint of the smell of blood.
"Thanks for bringing Bartley to safety. Leave his injuries to me. Seems today is the lucky day of the month, interesting patients keep coming one after another..."
In the time it took Detreka to consider whether to make tea, Fran had already swiftly begun emergency rescue work.
Although she didn't mind doing house calls at any time, today had indeed been too busy, almost continuously consuming spirituality and stamina.
"The blade wounds were mostly deflected by ribs and muscle. Some blood loss, but organ damage isn't severe. As for the shoulder pellet... these round projectiles are relatively easy to extract."
In the time it took Detreka to boil water and pour a cup of tea, Fran had stabilized Bartley's vital signs.
Of course, she also used mind-stabilizing drugs during this treatment to prevent his brain from being fried by the two secret arts, [Blood Burn] and [Hound Mimicry], which deteriorate mental state.
The green capsule, as the most commonly used and efficient oral drug, was indeed easy for novice doctors to become dependent on... Fran's reason for combining multiple effects in this drug was largely to avoid having to prepare additional prescription compounds each time.
"Alright, treatment complete. What a tiring day..."
Fran put down her tools, rubbed her slightly dark-circled eyes, and yawned sleepily.
"Ms. Vivian, would you like some tea?"
Just then, Detreka walked over with a cup of floral tea emitting a gentle aroma. By the smell, it seemed to be the "Tranquil Slumber" from the Dreamslumber Flowers Hotel.
Recalling the box the thief girl used to get the tea leaves earlier, Fran noticed it had the Dreamslumber Flowers Hotel logo.
"Thank you for your hospitality."
She took a sip. It was indeed the familiar taste.
"Oh, Detreka. I've already cleaned up the traces you left on the road earlier. No need to worry about anyone coming knocking anytime soon."
Detreka was momentarily stunned, then couldn't help but admire Ms. Vivian's professionalism.
Truly from the Secrets-Hunter Confidential Division, thorough and meticulous, leaving almost no leaks even in such details...
"Um, Ms. Vivian. The Abyssal Sea Tavern was attacked. No information broker will dare to trade there for a while... And collecting information on my own might be slow. Your commission might need to be delayed."
Detreka said somewhat anxiously.
Fran clearly didn't mind. For matters requiring a step-by-step approach, she was always patient.
"No rush. You did your best saving Bartley from Louisa. And, I don't need you to look for Abyssal Descendant information for now... plans have changed."
"Then what should I do now?"
Detreka's expression showed some confusion.
With a hint of faint amusement, Fran gave her a new task.
"Detreka, I need you to take me to a Six-Eyed Crow stronghold. Knowing their headquarters location would be best, of course. I want to borrow something from them..."
"But not now. It's too late today. I need to go back to the hotel and sleep first."
"Ms. Vivian, you want to go to a cult stronghold?"
Hearing this request, Detreka's eyelids twitched almost imperceptibly.
"Is there a difficulty?"
Noticing her unnatural expression, Fran gently pressed further.
"Not exactly... It's just that most of our cult's internal communication happens through temporary gatherings, with no fixed location. The headquarters 'Oak-Shadow Nest' location is fixed, but mostly only high-ranking and firmly faithful Outrider Hunters know it."
Here, Detreka's expression became slightly awkward.
Clearly, neither the "high-ranking" nor "firm in faith" requirements were ones she met.
"Don't worry. This situation was within my expectations."
Fran didn't seem surprised. She never intended to find the Six-Eyed Crow's core location directly through a peripheral believer.
"Any gathering has its organizer. I can deepen my understanding of your cult level by level through the organizers of various tiered gatherings..."
Originally, her plan was to get clues about the Six-Eyed Crow from Louisa, but that information broker's mental deterioration was too fast, and she got too immersed in the joy of treating a patient... so she didn't get to ask.
But it didn't matter.
+++
T/N: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter and want to support my work, I have a Patreon!
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