Chapter 364: Withdrawing a Transfer Request

“Respected Dean, forgive my boldness, but has the Lord prepared grace for His servant—even a single thread of hope?” The doctor’s silence deepened Benny’s anxiety, prompting him to press further.

For a few seconds, Kraft abandoned thought.

The term “pituitary adenoma” rolled through his stalled mind like Sisyphus’s boulder; anyone with even a shred of reason would know that under current conditions, no matter the direction of effort—even if symptoms could be temporarily alleviated—the end result would inevitably be futile.

In short, this was a divine summons: the transfer paperwork had already been issued; he might as well start preparing Dominic’s personal file to burn it all together when the time came.

As for the unfortunate boy caught in the crossfire, if his condition followed a similar path, Kraft could only consult Brother Raymond to see if his standing as abbot was enough to secure a plenary indulgence to save him.

Rationally speaking, further futile struggle was meaningless.

But remembering how hard he’d fought to pull these people away from the Church, only to lose one before even beginning proper work, Field felt he couldn’t face him—how could he face Green either?

And as for replacing such high-quality talent next time? Heaven knew when that might ever happen.

Kraft tried one last effort, forcing himself to seek a breakthrough beyond the bounds of conventional knowledge. After all, even the lowest survival rate for a treatment couldn’t fall below zero.

Upon reflection, one would realize that pituitary adenoma surgery predates minimally invasive techniques.

The very concept of pituitary adenoma emerged even earlier, originating from postmortem examinations of patients exhibiting endocrine abnormalities and optic nerve compression.

The earliest surgeries arose roughly in tandem with the advent of X-ray imaging. Of course, X-rays couldn’t visualize intracranial soft tissues—they diagnosed indirectly by observing structural changes in the sella turcica caused by tumor compression.

At this point, disregarding misdiagnosis rates and surgical risks, the operation could already proceed. If no technique could bypass dangerous zones, then open surgery it was.

If the entire skull were viewed as a sphere, divided at the cranial base into northern and southern hemispheres—the north housing the brain, the south the jaw, face, and cerebellum, with the eyes along the equator—the pituitary would lie just behind the eyes, at the boundary between the mantle and core of the equatorial plane.

By opening the “third eye” through the forehead, cutting through the dura mater, and gently lifting the frontal lobe—the anterior third of the northern hemisphere—one could see the sella turcica at the center of the anterior cranial base. A slight tremor of the hand, and the optic chiasm lies beside it; one must be careful.

As for the risks of manipulating the frontal lobe? Another infamous procedure of the same era, the lobotomy, had already been performed; wouldn’t operating on the pituitary be equally reasonable?

Here, the most difficult step had only just begun. The surgeon must carefully scrape away tumor tissue while avoiding damage to the normal pituitary; theoretically, the two tissues should differ in color, but in practice, it relied entirely on the surgeon’s experience and tactile sense.

A slight misjudgment—removing too much, or damaging a vessel—and the patient would soon, in sleep, see either the gates of heaven or the boiling cauldrons of hell open before him.

The entire procedure lasted four to six hours, not excessively long in neurosurgery, but under conditions without life monitoring, the patient’s chances of survival were slim.

Even if the patient survived, Kraft had never attempted to maintain his spiritual perception for such an extended duration. Yet if he withdrew his spiritual perception, in the narrow, deep, and anatomically complex surgical field, he would lose all control over what he cut.

His tools were no less advanced than those used in the first-ever pituitary adenoma resection; the gap lay primarily in precision.

Perhaps his spiritual perception’s real-time pinpoint accuracy could compensate for some deficiencies in tools and experience—but the question returned: how could he guarantee maintaining spiritual perception throughout the entire surgery?

His previous longest attempt had been less than one-tenth of six hours; pushing himself beyond the limit, ignoring post-effects, might extend it—but if he hit his limit mid-surgery, there was no backup here.

The only hope lay in optimizing time.

Preoperative preparation through anesthesia induction could be delegated to assistants, allowing him to conserve energy; the scalp, skull, and dura mater structures were not complex and could be handled visually.

At the stage of retracting the frontal lobe, he would need to rely on unconventional methods. The cerebral cortex and white matter were too fragile; this area concentrated the olfactory nerves and multiple small orbital veins—a small minefield before the great one—taking at least forty minutes.

Identifying and scraping away the tumor could not be rushed; even an hour was optimistic.

Hemostasis and repositioning the bone flap, based on prior experience, could be completed in roughly fifteen minutes at minimum.

Final suturing, disinfection, and dressing could be handled by Kup, even if the stitches were ugly—it wouldn’t kill him.

A rough calculation showed that even under the most favorable conditions, he would need to sustain high-intensity spiritual perception for at least two hours. Never mind whether it was possible—this duration was no different from killing him.

A direct strangulation would be quicker. Suffocation to unconsciousness took only moments; the aftereffects of spiritual perception might not.

Time must be squeezed further—ideally reduced to under an hour.

Top-tier pituitary adenoma surgeries might be completed within an hour, but Kraft could not possibly complete one within that timeframe.

Just a hair’s breadth short—and Sisyphus’s boulder rolled down the mountain again.

Not even a hair’s breadth would do.

Kraft’s stubbornness flared. Total failure was acceptable; failure at the final moment was intolerable.

Pituitary surgery was a classic case of slow work yielding fine results; there was virtually no room to optimize manual technique—no matter how clearly he understood the anatomy, he still had to cut inch by inch; his hands could not move faster.

Especially the tumor-scraping step: spiritual perception could help define the boundaries of diseased tissue, but human operational capacity had its limits.

【Unless hands were not used】

He needed an extremely rapid method, ideally synchronized with his spiritual perception, capable of appearing at specific locations without spatial constraints to perform precise incisions.

It need not be used throughout—just one “cut” would suffice. This “cut” had to be exquisitely precise, approaching the absolute limit of human spatial imagination, and sharp enough to avoid disturbing even the tiniest surrounding tissue.

With such a tool, spiritual perception could guide it to the critical moment and precise location—Sisyphus’s boulder would forever be fixed at the summit.

Did he have such a thing?

“Yes, my friend—of course I do.” Kraft placed his hand before the patient’s forehead; the malformed tumor lay no more than a few centimeters from his palm, yet it felt as distant as a thousand miles, separated by towering mountains.

Yet it was not beyond reach.

“Give me a little time for necessary preparations. The treatment will first be tested on Brother Dominic, then on this child.”

He would withdraw a transfer application—even if it bore the Father’s signature and seal, he would try.

(End of Chapter)