Chapter 78

Chapter 78: The Surgery Begins

Lan didn't even look up as he responded to the little girl's doubts.

"Because you're brave, kind, loyal, and clever. You stood up to the traffickers and even shared your food with children you didn't know. Wait, you didn't actually believe that, did you?"

Even though Lan still hadn't turned around, it was as if he could see Arya's face turning bright red at that moment.

The little girl was thrilled by the lavish praise from a "great knight," but her excitement quickly turned to confusion.

"N-no? Really?" Arya asked, her voice a mix of hesitation and hope.

Lan's reply was as straightforward as ever.

"The main reason is your helplessness, Arya."

"I can guess how you ended up here, and I can guess that this place is nothing like the world you grew up in." As he spoke and worked, his cat-like eyes met the little girl's gray ones for the first time.

"Killing and saving people both require reasons, Arya. But in this world, you have no reason. Because this world has nothing to do with you."

"Until I created a connection between you and this world. Relationships, material foundations… Velen is a treacherous place. If you were to act alone, chances are you wouldn't survive for long."

"It's only in this context that your kindness in sharing food and your bravery in standing up to those traffickers become factors worth considering."

"That's why I believe that having you assist me in this work will be safer than relying on the vast but chaotic forces of Aretuza. It's also safer than the simple yet brutal power structures of Velen."

The little girl, who had been anxious after suddenly being entrusted with such a task, gradually calmed down under Lan's logical and reassuring words.

Trust is a cheap thing, but trust backed by logical analysis is something that can be relied upon.

For the person being entrusted, it's also a form of recognition.

"I-I understand, sir!"

With that, Arya opened the door, took a few deep breaths, and walked downstairs toward the dining room. Lan's keen hearing picked up her soft murmurs as she walked.

"The first one… the second one… the third one…"

It sounded like she was reciting some kind of list.

Over and over again.

Arya had once told Lan about her family crest—the direwolf. The witcher could sense that this little girl, now fully focused and encouraged, truly possessed the stubborn "Blood of Wolf" of her lineage.

***

The room had been cleared to create an open space.

Lan didn't prepare alcohol or fire for sterilization, as he had done for Bernie's surgery.

A witcher's constitution made them nearly immune to disease. A simple bacterial infection couldn't harm them. A single potion would kill the bacteria faster than it could harm the witcher's cells.

Lan removed his high-grade Bear School armor piece by piece, leaving only his leather trousers.

The surgical tools, gleaming under the candlelight, were laid out neatly in front of him.

Lan knelt down in a meditative posture, his movements slow and deliberate.

"We've finally gathered all the conditions, Mentos."

The witcher's meditation technique could adjust his mental state and temporarily enhance his potion absorption rate and physical control.

Now, as Lan picked up a surgical scalpel, his hand was even steadier than when he wielded a sword!

His hand reached into the alchemical pouch, touching the unusually sturdy container once more.

His cat-like eyes focused on the pulsating mass of flesh floating in the nutrient solution—the gene seed.

Mentos didn't respond to Lan's casual remark, as it was fully immersed in assisting with the surgical process.

"Please open the container."

This was the first step of the surgery.

Mentos couldn't guarantee that Lan would still have the willpower to perform the complex task of opening the container after cutting open his own chest. So, it had to be done in advance.

"Click—" As Lan slowly twisted the ornate, engraved lid, a faint, icy crackling sound emerged.

The witcher's meditative gaze remained unshaken.

"Mentos… that wasn't an illusion."

"Phenomenon analyzed. Report: The lid did exhibit a slight freezing effect, but the ambient temperature remained unchanged. This falls into the realm of the unknown. Should we proceed with the surgery?"

Freezing without a drop in temperature.

Even a sorcerer would find such a phenomenon baffling!

But Lan simply glanced at the container in his hand and pressed the scalpel against his bare chest.

Mentos finally broke its focus on assisting for a brief moment.

"Lan…"

The biological AI's tone was no longer one of stern refusal. It knew the resolve its host carried, and it knew that throughout this journey, it had never once succeeded in steering Lan onto what it considered the "right" path.

A human's decision, born of their own determination and beliefs, was something no AI could ever control.

So, this time, Mentos simply asked with emphasis, "Surgical process… confirmed?"

Lan didn't respond.

Because the blade was already pressing down.

Skin, subcutaneous fat, muscle… Layer by layer, the tissues guarding the chest cavity were peeled open by their own master!

Lan's body tensed, the pain causing his muscles to swell with blood.

Under the stillness of his meditative posture, every muscle fiber in his body was writhing beneath his skin!

Lan didn't scream. There was no silencing spell here, so he wouldn't make a sound.

His face remained calm, his teeth clenched as he continued to cut.

Mentos projected a mirrored anatomical diagram onto Lan's retina, updating in real time to reflect the progress of the surgery.

"A blood vessel has been nicked. Bleeding has increased. Please consume the [Swallow] potion."

The orange-red potion slid down his throat. Through the opening in his chest, one could even see the muscles contracting to aid the esophagus in swallowing.

With only the basic [Swallow] formula, Lan had to drink three bottles to ensure the bleeding would stop.

Toxins flooded his veins, gathering around his eye sockets. The pain from the potion itself was almost negligible now.

The continuous healing effect sealed the blood vessels, reducing the bleeding to a trickle—far less than one would expect from an open-chest surgery.

But at the same time, Lan had to cut through the rapidly regenerating tissue again.

Finally, when the cold sweat from the pain had pooled beneath him, the scalpel scraped against his rib.

Lan's cat-like eyes narrowed slightly as he began to widen the gap between the bones.

The tumor, though large, was elastic.

The moment Lan fished it out of the container, the gene seed twitched like a living thing, its surrounding blood vessels writhing like bacterial flagella!

Its vitality was plummeting now that it was out of its preservation environment. For some reason, Lan could sense this, though he didn't understand how.

The surgical plan Lan and Mentos had devised didn't involve cutting through the ribcage. Instead, they planned to slip the tumor through the gaps between the ribs.

Lan didn't know if the tumor would be damaged in the process, but since it was part of some super-soldier enhancement, he estimated it could at least withstand a heavy punch, right?