Chapter 3352: Divine Hands, Godly Doctor (VII)

Shiler now understood why he had to wear a bird-beak mask in the operating room.

Taking advantage of Stark still being unconscious, Shiler grabbed Strange and pulled him to the side, then said: "Now there are two possibilities. Either this broken game read our memories and then created a shapeshifter, turning into the person we find most difficult to deal with."

"So the person you find most difficult to deal with is also Tony, I thought you'd prefer him more."

"Don't joke, if one day he ends up on the operating table, I won't be cheering him on."

"And I'll pray to God."

The two happily reached an agreement. Shiler then said: "There's another possibility—he really is Tony. He could be from our universe, or from another universe, but he's the genuine Iron Man."

"Then how did he end up here?"

"I've considered this possibility before." Shiler voiced his speculation: "Since the ten-player raid dungeon is the main event of this activity, the administrator probably wouldn't create a separate storyline and map just for this two-player dungeon. They might have directly shoved the solo queue team into the big world map."

"You mean we might now be playing the game in the same worldview as other squads?"

"Of course. Think about it—our game format is rescuing patients in the ward. Designing all that outside storyline would be wasteful. Even the God of Stories wouldn't bother with useless work unless it could be reused."

Strange suddenly understood, saying: "In other words, the map of Magic Hub Town very likely isn't just for our team of players, which would amount to a free experience of the raid dungeon, right?"

"It's not that simple. Right now we're playing role-play, subject to various rules. We can't expose our identities, and it's possible that the NPCs we encounter in this game are actually players, we just don't know it."

"You mean the nurse, the bear orderly, and that mysterious Raven Mr. could all be players, just unable to reveal their identities due to the rules?"

"That's possible. After all, aren't we two plague doctors in this hospital right now?"

"You mean Tony might only see us as game characters?"

"I'm afraid so. That's good news." Shiler turned to glance at Stark, then said: "I guess he might also have some identity, and is also restricted by the rules, got injured during gameplay, and was sent to the hospital."

"We can't expose each other? That's actually kind of interesting."

"Even if we could expose each other, we shouldn't. With our current medical skills, do you want Stark to laugh you to death?"

"What's wrong with our current medical skills?!" Strange said dissatisfiedly, "Before, it was all accidents. We two top doctors treating seriously—could we still not compare to that bunch of amateurs?"

"So you're not giving up yet." Shiler sighed, "Well, then keep struggling, but I must remind you. If Stark finds out our true identities, and later treatment goes wrong, he'll definitely shout it out to the entire multiverse."

Strange paused.

"Any mandrake left?"

Shiler understood instantly.

"Yes, sulfur is also plentiful."

The two simultaneously turned their heads to look at Stark.

Stark happened to wake up groggily, still somewhat confused about the situation. He said in a low voice: "Doctor... doctor..."

Shiler and Strange exchanged a glance, noticing that Stark's voice differed from usual but his pronunciation was the same. This basically confirmed that the other party was the real Tony Stark, not some shapeshifter.

That slight voice alteration might just be a disguise provided by the game designers—after all, if you're not professional, a slight voice change makes most people unable to recognize you.

But unfortunately, Shiler is a professional.

Shiler gave Strange a look.

Strange walked over and said: "You alright, Mr.?"

Stark stared dazedly at him. Upon seeing the black bird-beak mask, he shuddered awake.

"Good, I'm doing great." Stark edged to the side of the bed, then realized he seemed to be acting too cowardly, so he tried to cover it up by reaching for the water cup by the bed.

"Sorry, Mr., please don't touch anything." Shiler immediately stepped forward and stopped Stark.

The two stood one on each side of the operating table, staring at Stark, looking like two black grim reapers. Stark broke out in cold sweat.

"Uh... that... are you two the only doctors here?"

Shiler, through the glass eyepieces of his bird-beak mask, saw Strange's eyes full of amusement. He raised an eyebrow at Strange. Strange of course understood the hint to "scare him a little."

"That's right, Mr. How are you feeling? We might need to do a blood test..."

After saying that, Strange took the thickest needle tube from the instrument rack—the needle was also thin and long, the same one used earlier for abdominal puncture.

"No no no no no!!!" Stark yelled, his mouth flailing, "I'm not sick! No need for testing!!!"

"Your mental state doesn't seem great." Shiler picked up a scalpel from beside him, saying: "Or perhaps we could do a prefrontal lobotomy..."

"I'm not crazy!!!" Stark roared, saying: "Put down what's in your hands, you two quack doctors!!"

The two moved closer, Stark instinctively shrank back, eyes wide as he stared at them, instinctively wanting to reach into his pocket.

From this motion, Shiler already deduced that this was the Stark from their universe. Because the Stark he knew usually kept his nanotech armor in the right pocket of his suit.

Strange stood up first, putting down the needle tube. He said: "The plague is spreading severely, we probably don't have much time to chat. Mr., if you could tell us your symptoms, we might skip the examination and go straight to treatment. What do you think?"

"I... I said I'm not sick." Stark took a deep breath, steadied himself, then said: "I'm here to find someone. Have you seen a woman about seven feet tall, with dark skin? Her name is Nova, and she has a long wound on her stomach."

Stark gestured on his own abdomen, then added: "She probably came yesterday morning or noon. Were you on duty then?"

Shiler and Strange exchanged another glance—they of course knew who that woman was. But discussing it now was meaningless.

Although it looked like a medical mistake on the surface, in reality that woman was doomed to die the moment she was brought here.

Last night Strange found more readable books on the bookshelf. The books contained many settings about this world, as well as more medical knowledge. The werewolf virus was among them.

Similar to the rabies Strange knew, the werewolf virus is a terrifying virus that's almost untreatable once infected. Although many rumors claim relief can be found by cutting out the bitten part or using herbs, in reality it's currently incurable.

Patients may onset at any time within 12 hours of being bitten, and once onset occurs they turn into horrifying, mad wolf-headed monsters, indiscriminately attacking any target within sight. If not stopped quickly, the virus will spread at a terrifying speed.

Shiler's clean, decisive knife yesterday—though seemingly heartless—was undoubtedly the correct choice. At that time the woman hadn't fully transformed, was relatively fragile, so one strike could kill her. But once she fully became a werewolf, with Shiler and Strange's special abilities restricted, they couldn't possibly match her.

Although it was legitimate self-defense, killing a person isn't something pleasant to hear, and Shiler had no intention of telling Stark more. So he said: "There were too many patients yesterday, I can't remember clearly. But if you're not here for treatment, how did you get into the hospital?"

Shiler didn't believe this strange hospital would let healthy people in. The guard at the end of the corridor must have his own criteria.

Stark pulled open his collar—he wore a retro shirt and a silk vest—there were some dark spots from collarbone to chest.

Strange narrowed his eyes slightly, recalling the healing manual's content, but immediately realized the marks on Stark's chest didn't match the description. These black spots were fake.

"You're faking infection with the 'Black Death Day' plague?" Shiler said affirmatively, "This pattern isn't right—your disguise method is a bit too clumsy."

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

"That's probably not why you got in successfully." Shiler grabbed Stark's wrist.

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

Strange leaned forward slightly, looking at Stark's fingertips. Where the fingerprints should have been, an abnormal vortex appeared.

Strange inhaled slightly, stepped back, and said in a deep voice: "Vortex disease. Have you recently felt extra pain when your finger joints curl? When you close your eyes, can you see black and red intertwined vortex patterns?"

Stark was somewhat dazed. He finally pulled his hand back, and when he looked at his fingertips, he was also startled.

"God, what is this?!"

"You have contracted vortex disease." Shiler picked up the newspaper he had ordered earlier and placed it beside Stark, then said, "Have you recently come into contact with water from the lower city? Many patients who died from vortex disease had their bodies thrown into the sewers untreated. If you touched that water, you could also be infected."

Stark's eyes widened, his brows furrowed tightly, and he looked at his fingertips, saying: "Damn it, when I was chasing those jackals, I accidentally fell into a puddle and swallowed some water..."

"That must have been unpleasant." Strange said without any mockery, simply stating the truth, "But the price you pay for this is not just losing face."

"How will this disease progress?"

"It will kill you, of course." Strange held a long needle in his hand and said, "The early symptom of vortex disease is a vortex-like pattern appearing at the extremities of the limbs, usually on the fingerprints, then spreading to the palms."

"The vortex will melt the bones of the finger joints, turning the fingers into soft tissue structures, then curling into a vortex, followed by the palms and forearms, and finally all limbs and torso."

"The spine is the only bone the vortex cannot melt, but vortex disease forces the patient's torso to curl into a vortex. Therefore, patients mostly die from spinal fractures or internal bleeding due to compression."

"The only bone that can be completely preserved is the skull, so corpses often appear as a flesh vortex made of limbs and torso wrapping around a head. The deceased usually have grotesque faces, in extreme agony."

Stark's face had already turned somewhat pale. He immediately looked at the speaking Strange, then said: "You mean, I wasn't able to successfully enter the hospital because of my fabricated plague symptoms, but because I actually contracted the disease?"

"Yes. And the situation is not optimistic." Shiler, who had already walked to the operating table and begun preparing medicine, said, "The stock of raven blood, one of the medicines for treating vortex disease, is insufficient, and the merchant who can replenish the raw materials will not arrive until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

"The onset cycle of vortex disease usually does not exceed 24 hours." Strange immediately continued, "Barring any accidents, you should develop the symptom of limb curling within two hours."

"No... Doctor! Save me!"

(End of Chapter)