Chapter 3400 Miraculous Doctor (Seven)

Shiller now understood why bird-beak masks were compulsory in the operating room.

While Stark was still unconscious, Shiller pulled Strange aside and said, "There are two possibilities now. Either this damned game accessed our memories and created a Transforming Monster that became the most difficult person in our minds."

"So in your mind, Tony is also the most challenging person? I thought you were more inclined towards him."

"Stop joking, if he ever lies on the operating table, I wouldn't be cheering for him."

"And I would pray to God."

The two of them agreeably reached an understanding. Shiller then added, "Another possibility is that he really is Tony. It might be the Tony from our cosmos, or perhaps from another cosmos, but he is genuinely Iron Man."

"How could he appear here then?"

"I've thought about this possibility before," Shiller shared his speculation, "Considering the main event of this operation involves ten people combating, the management likely wouldn't create separate storylines and maps just for a two-person operation. They might just place solo teams straight into the big world map."

"Do you mean that we might now be playing in the same worldview as other teams?"

"Of course. Think about it, our game mode involves saving patients in a hospital room. Wouldn't designing all those outside stories be a waste? Even the God of Stories wouldn't exercise such futility unless it can be reused."

Strange understood and commented, "So, it's very likely that there aren't just our team of players on the map of Magic Core Town, thus it's pretty much like experiencing the major operation for free?"

"It's not that simple. We are now role-playing, restricted by various rules. We cannot expose our identities; perhaps the NPCs we encounter in this game are players too, but we just don't know."

"Are you suggesting that the nurse, Bear Caregiver, and the mysterious Mr. Raven could all be players, just restricted from revealing their identities?"

"There's a chance, especially since we two are currently playing as plague doctors in a hospital."

"Are you saying Tony might only see us as characters in the game?"

"I'm afraid so. This is actually good news." Shiller looked back at Stark and then said, "I guess he might have an identity too and is also bound by the rules. He got injured in the process of the game and was then brought to the hospital."

"We can't reveal each other?"

"That's a bit interesting."

"Even if we could reveal, we shouldn't. With our current medical skills, do you want to be mocked to death by Stark?"

"What's wrong with our medical skills now?!" Strange said discontentedly, "It was all accidents before. Can't two top doctors take it seriously and do better than those amateurs?"

"I see you haven't given up." Shiller sighed and said, "Alright then, struggle on, but I must remind you. If Stark finds out our real identities and something goes wrong with the following treatment, he will surely make it known throughout the Multiverse."

Strange paused.

"Do we still have Mandala?"

Shiller nodded comprehendingly.

"Yes, and there's plenty of sulfur."

They both turned to look at Stark.

Stark coincidentally was waking up, still a bit confused. Using a deep voice, he said, "Doctor... doctor..."

Shiller and Strange exchanged glances, realizing the voice was different from usual but the articulation was the same. This essentially confirmed that this person was indeed Tony Stark, not any Transforming Monster.

The slight voice change might just be a disguise provided by the game designers; after all, if it's not professional, with slight changes, most people wouldn't recognize it.

But unfortunately for him, Shiller was a professional.

Shiller gave Strange a meaningful glance.

Strange approached and asked, "Are you alright, sir?"

Stark looked at him hazily. After seeing the dark bird-beak mask, he startled awake.

"Good, I'm feeling exceptionally well." Stark moved to one side of the bed and realizing that he might have seemed too cowardly, he feigned nonchalance and reached for a water cup by the bed.

"Sorry, sir. Please don't touch anything," Shiller immediately went over to stop Stark.

The two of them stood on either side of the operating table, looking at Stark, resembling two black-robed Gods of Death. Stark began to sweat profusely.

"Uh... Are you two the only doctors here?"

Shiller, through the glass eyes of the bird-beak mask, saw Strange's amused eyes. He arched an eyebrow at Strange. Strange, of course, understood the hint to "scare him a bit."

"Indeed, sir. How do you feel? We might need to conduct a blood test..."

After speaking, Strange took out the thickest syringe from the tool rack, which had a thin and long needle; it was the one previously used for abdominal punctures.

"No, no, no, no, no!!!" Stark exclaimed in fright, his words all slurred, "I'm not sick! No need to test!!!"

"It seems your mental state isn't too good," Shiller picked up a scalpel and said, "Perhaps we can perform a frontal lobe procedure on you…"

"I'm not crazy!!!" Stark roared, saying, "Put down what you have in your hands, you two quacks!!"

The two approached closer, and Stark instinctively shrank back, his eyes widening as he looked at them, subconsciously reaching for his pocket.

With this action, Shiller deduced that this was the Stark from their universe because the Stark he knew usually kept his Nano Armor in the right pocket of his suit.

Strange stood up first, putting down the syringe. He said, "The plague is spreading fiercely, we probably don't have much time for chit-chat. Sir, if you can tell us your symptoms, perhaps we could skip the examination and proceed directly to treatment. What do you think?"

"I... I told you I'm not sick," Stark took a deep breath, calming himself before speaking, "I am here looking for someone. Have you seen a woman about seven feet tall with dark skin? Her name is Nova, and she has a long scar on her abdomen."

Stark gestured across his own abdomen as he spoke, "She probably arrived yesterday morning or noon. Were you on duty at that time?"

Shiller and Strange exchanged glances—they certainly knew who the woman was. But discussing her now was pointless.

It might seem like they had botched the treatment, but in reality, the woman was doomed to die the moment she was brought here.

Last night, Strange found more books to read on the shelf. The books described many settings of this world as well as more medical knowledge, including the Werewolf Virus.

Similar to the rabies that Strange knew about, the Werewolf Virus is a dreadful virus that is virtually untreatable once contracted. While there were rumors that removing the bitten part or using some herbs might alleviate the condition, it is essentially incurable.

The infected could turn into a terrifying, frenzied werewolf monster within 12 hours of being bitten and indiscriminately attack every target within sight. If not stopped quickly, the virus would spread with a terrifying speed.

Shiller's clean cut yesterday, though seemingly ruthless, was undoubtedly the right decision. At that time, the woman had not fully transformed and was relatively vulnerable, so one strike was enough to end her life. Once she had fully turned into a werewolf, Shiller and Strange, with their special abilities restricted, would not stand a chance.

Although it was in self-defense, curing someone to death wasn't favorable to hear. Shiller was not inclined to reveal too much information to Stark, so he said, "There were too many patients yesterday, I don't remember clearly. But if you are not here for treatment, how did you manage to enter the hospital?"

Shiller didn't believe this eerie hospital would let someone who wasn't sick come in. The guard at the passageway must have his own criteria.

Stark pulled open the collar of his clothes—he was wearing a vintage shirt and silk vest—there were some black spots from his collarbone down to his chest.

Strange squinted slightly, recalling the content in the healing manual, but then he realized the marks on Stark's chest did not match the descriptions. These spots were probably fake.

"You disguised yourself as being infected with the 'Black Death Day' plague?" Shiller asked with a tone of certainty, "This pattern is not quite right, your disguise is a bit too crude."

"Who cares, didn't I successfully get in?"

"That's probably not the reason you were successful." Shiller grabbed Stark's wrist.

Stark's eyes widened slightly, looking at Shiller with some caution. He exerted force in his arm, trying to pull his hand back, but Shiller had no intention of letting go.

Strange leaned slightly forward, looking towards Stark's fingertips. There, where fingerprints should be, emerged abnormal whirlpools.

Strange inhaled sharply, stepped back, and said solemnly, "Vortex Disease. Have you recently felt extraordinary pain when your finger joints curl? When you close your eyes, can you see a pattern of black and red whirlpools intertwining?"

Stark appeared confused. He finally withdrew his hand, and was startled when he looked at his own fingertips.

"My God, what is this?!"

"You've contracted Vortex Disease." Shiller picked up the newspaper he had ordered earlier and placed it beside Stark, then said, "Have you recently been in contact with waters from the Lower City area? Many bodies of patients who died from Vortex Disease were thrown into the sewers untreated. If you touched that water, you might have been infected."

Stark's eyes widened, his eyebrows tightly knotted as he looked at his fingertips and said, "Damn it, when I was chasing those jackals, I accidentally fell into a water hole and swallowed some water..."

"That must not have felt good," Strange said without any hint of sarcasm, just stating the truth, "But the price you paid is more than just losing face."

"What will happen with this disease?"

"You will die, of course," Strange replied, holding a long probe, "Early symptoms of Vortex Disease are the appearance of whirlpool patterns on the extremities, usually on the fingerprint area, then spreading to the palm."

"The whirlpools will melt the bones in the finger joints, turning the fingers into a soft structure, then curl into whirlpools, followed by the palms and forearms, and finally all limbs and torso."

"The spinal bones are the only bones the whirlpools can't melt, but Vortex Disease forces the patient's torso to curl into a whirlpool. Most patients die from spinal fractures or internal bleeding due to compression."

"The only bones that can be preserved intact are the skull, so the corpses often appear as a meat whirlpool consisting of the limbs and torso wrapped around a head. The deceased usually have a fierce and extremely painful expression."

Stark's face had turned somewhat pale, he immediately looked at Strange speaking and then said, "You mean, I didn't succeed in getting admitted because of my faked plague symptoms, but because I'm actually sick?"

"Yes. And the situation is not optimistic," said Shiller, who had walked to the operating table and started preparing medicine, "The medication for treating Vortex Disease, raven blood, is insufficient in stock, and the merchant who can replenish the raw materials will only arrive tomorrow morning."

"The cycle of Vortex Disease usually does not exceed 24 hours," Strange quickly added, "If nothing unexpected happens, within two hours, you should start showing symptoms of limbs curling."

"No... Doctor! Help!"