Chapter 214: Temporary Alliance

Kraft felt he was almost convinced; from Father Green's perspective, he too found the logic self-evident.

If you work for the Inquisition, your life is devoted to striking down every heresy that deceives the world and tries to lead the Father's flock astray.

Rumors spread that in a certain district of Dunling, a man had appeared who could "cure terminal illnesses through touch," charging only a pittance compared to the results—and even waiving fees under special circumstances.

Within days, the activity had grown wildly, either spontaneously or as if actively propelled, drawing frenzied adoration from the ignorant masses.

A quick investigation would reveal that the central figure in the rumors was using a substance that induced unconsciousness, allowing patients to heal painlessly.

Then, one day, this man abruptly halted his thriving medical practice, left with his attendants, and headed for Dunling's most reviled underground necropolis.

No more hesitation was needed; Father Green, who had been monitoring the matter for days, immediately decided to follow, never once considering the possibility of losing. Without false modesty, he was confident that even against an ordinary expert, he could hold his own with two eyes and one hand tied, let alone with the help he had brought along.

"Do you realize what you're saying?" The atmosphere tightened instantly; Green's fingers instinctively clung back to his sheathed sword. He had never imagined receiving this answer so easily—admitted outright by the suspect himself, tied to an Inquisition case.

The professor's demeanor was calm, making it hard to tell whether this stemmed from discipline or absolute confidence that no one left here with secrets.

"It seems Father Green has misunderstood my academic achievements. In fact, no investigation is needed—I'm happy to demonstrate the entire process, from raw materials to the final drug, and explain every operational detail to anyone interested."

Kraft had always welcomed interest in his work; it would be even better if it weren't the Inquisition.

Of course, it might not be a bad thing—perhaps this was a chance to get ether branded as an "Inquisition-certified harmless product"?

"But more importantly, I'm curious: who else discovered the same thing before me—and chose not to reveal it?"

Green remained silent. To inform a suspect of investigation progress was too bizarre—even if the suspect appeared extremely cooperative.

"Well, it seems Father Green isn't very willing to share." Kraft suddenly stepped forward slowly, as if unaware of the Church pair's tense expressions and hands gripping their sword hilts.

The gesture nearly made them step back to create distance, but retreating from an unarmed man would seem too frail, too cowardly; their pride and the Father's dignity held their feet firmly to the ground.

"Then as a gesture of goodwill, I'd be happy to discuss some matters regarding academic progress with the two of you."

"No, thank you—we understand little of advanced knowledge. We'll visit your laboratory another day to see Professor Kraft's achievements." Green instinctively felt his assumptions were off, overwhelmed by the man's unnerving generosity.

But he couldn't rely on instinct. At this point, ensuring his own safe departure was the only rational choice. He could prepare thoroughly, visit later, and verify whether this was truly a coincidence or misunderstanding—and what exactly Kraft knew.

Kraft extended his hand, returning the lantern to its owner's face, as if not hearing the refusal, and continued unperturbed, "The problem of painless surgery has long been surgery's greatest pain point, decisively keeping its status permanently lower than internal medicine."

"Even I only recently produced this drug, and immediately promoted it—facing almost no resistance, despite its difficult extraction, poor shelf life, need for special apparatus to inhale, and unstable effects. The academic community still generally considers me the one who broke this barrier."

"Congratulations." The words sounded like boasting; Green didn't understand why the man suddenly brought this up, hesitating whether to take the lantern.

"But now, I tell you, there exists a substance that achieves the same—or even surpasses—my results, with far more convenient usage."

"Do you understand its significance?"

The flame flickered; Green realized this wasn't empty information. He cautiously reached out, hooking his finger around the lantern's handle.

The lantern didn't move; Kraft didn't release his grip. "Imagine you're wounded on the battlefield—just one drop, immediate effect. The doctor can stop bleeding, clean and bandage the wound, amputate necrotic tissue—all while you sleep. No pain, not even an itch."

The specifics of dosage and effect were too detailed, and too wildly implausible compared to the professor's own invention. The implausibility stood out sharply—like the language heretics used to describe miracles to their followers—he had always thought so.

By normal logic, this should have been meant to show that the real drug and the legendary one shared superficial similarities but were fundamentally different.

"You're saying this thing cannot exist?" Green sensed the man was dissatisfied with this interpretation.

"I believe it exists—and I've been paying close attention. It's a pity such a great invention, seeking neither fame nor profit, has never been promoted. Even its effects remain only vague rumors. What does the person holding it truly want?"

Kraft released his fingers, relinquishing control of the light. "And I believe this isn't something an ordinary person could create. Perhaps it's the work of some elder from the field. Don't you agree?"

He found his confirmation in Green's fleeting look of surprise. "Of course, this is only one fragment among many academic rumors—it holds no weight outside."

"I've finished. If you wish to leave, please do so—I'd be grateful for the light along the way."

"."

Green retreated toward the stone chamber's exit; Kraft followed with Kup. The two groups moved in synchronized caution, maintaining a balanced, neither-close-nor-far distance.

The lantern-bearer occasionally turned back, especially frequently as they ascended the spiral staircase, until the dim yet blinding light finally pierced their pupils through the narrow exit, triggering involuntary contraction—yet the footsteps behind remained just beyond the unbroken boundary.

Standing amidst the overgrown stones and ruins, Green realized, for the first time in years, he felt genuine pleasure at Dunling's impure, murky sunlight. For the first time in years, darkness was no longer his comforting veil and armor.

And the reason he now felt renewed awe for darkness? It was walking out of the tunnel, brushing dust from his shoulders, calm as if returning from a countryside outing.

"Then let us part ways. It was a pleasure meeting you, Father Green. You're always welcome at my clinic."

"Professor Kraft." Green called out to the departing Kraft. "I think we should talk."

"Oh?" Though he uttered a question, the professor showed no surprise.

"What do you know?"

"Me? Just a medical professor. I know only academic matters—paying extra attention to drugs and inventors is normal. But you—an Inquisition priest—why would you care about a drug that's never been widely known, whose effects exist only in rumor?"

Heresy and unregulated medicine are both hotbeds of nonsense—miracles and divine drugs emerge every year, eighty or a hundred. If enforcement were this heavy, small clinics would've been wiped out long ago.

"Medical colleges are part of our routine focus." Green ignored his companion's warning gesture and returned a look of "Who doesn't know that?" "But honestly, we rarely invest much effort—just enough to know what they're up to and that they're not going too far."

"Then why did you notice this case?"

"Because no other information could be found—not even grave-robbing was this tightly hidden."

(End of Chapter)