Chapter 214: Temporary Alliance

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

If you work in the Inquisition, dedicating your life to smashing every heresy that deceives the world and leads the Father's flock astray.

Rumors spread that in a 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 exploded in popularity, either spontaneously or as if orchestrated, drawing frenzied admiration from the ignorant masses.

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

Then, one day, he abruptly halted his thriving medical practice, departed with his attendants, and headed for Dunling's most reviled underground cemetery.

No more hesitation was needed; Father Green, who had been monitoring the matter for days, immediately decided to join, never once considering the possibility of losing. Without false modesty, in ordinary terms, he could hold his own against any skilled opponent even if they had two eyes and one hand, especially since he had backup.

"Do you realize what you're saying?" The atmosphere tightened instantly; Green's fingers instinctively clung to the hilt of his newly 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 expression remained calm; it was impossible 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 bad at all—perhaps this was a chance to get ether branded as an "Inquisition-certified harmless product"?

"But more importantly, I'm curious: who 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 man appeared extremely cooperative.

"Well, it seems Father Green isn't very willing to share." Kraft suddenly stepped forward slowly, as if unaware of the two churchmen'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 appear too weak, too fearful; 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; perhaps we'll visit your laboratory another day to see Professor Kraft's achievements." The sheer openness unnerved Green, making him instinctively feel his assumptions were off.

But he couldn't rely on instinct. At this point, ensuring his own safe departure was the only rational course. He could prepare thoroughly, pay a 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 original owner, as if he hadn't heard the refusal, continuing calmly, "The problem of painless surgery has long been surgery's greatest pain point, decisively keeping its status permanently below internal medicine."

"Even I only recently produced this drug and immediately promoted it; it faced almost no resistance, despite being extremely difficult to produce, incapable of long-term storage, requiring special apparatus for inhalation, and delivering 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 perform hemostasis, wound cleaning, bandaging, and amputation of necrotic tissue while you sleep. No pain, not even an itch."

The specificity of dosage and effect was 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 believers—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 substance cannot exist?" Green sensed the man was dissatisfied with this interpretation.

"I believe it exists. I've been paying close attention. It's a pity such a great invention, seeking neither fame nor profit, has never been promoted, and even its limited 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 substance isn't something an ordinary person could create. Perhaps it's the work of some elder in the field. Don't you agree?"

He found confirmation in the fleeting surprise on Green's face. "Of course, this is merely one fragment among many academic rumors—it holds no weight outside these walls."

"I've finished. If you wish to leave, please do so—I'd appreciate walking with you, sharing your light."

"."

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

The lantern-bearer occasionally turned back, especially frequently as they ascended the spiraling stairs, 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 amid the overgrown stones and ruins, Green realized, for the first time in years, he felt genuine pleasure at Dunling's impure, mist-choked 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 to meet 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?" The professor uttered the word, but 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 natural. But you—an Inquisition priest—why would you care about a drug that's never spread widely and exists only in rumor?"

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

"The Medical Academy is one of our regular focuses." Green ignored his companion's warning gesture, replying with a look that said, "Who doesn't know that?" "But honestly, we rarely invest much effort—just enough to know what they're up to and ensure they don't go too far."

"Then why did you notice this case?"

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

(End of Chapter)