Chapter 385: Sky Phobia

Although Kup repeatedly insisted that the best course of action was to minimize suffering and await the fate arranged by the Heavenly Father, Knight Benny still held his ground, determined to bring the priest—whose body was reduced to nothing but an intact face—to the monastery.

Compared to trusting medicine, this knight's behavior seemed closer to trusting theology.

The intersecting scratches caused by those scales appeared as indistinct as the culprit who made them. The damage first observed during initial cleaning and bandaging was mostly limited to the skin layer; aside from the terrifying bleeding, nothing deeper had been injured yet.

However, when changing the bandages for the second time, perhaps due to faulty memory, some wounds seemed more severe than remembered, having reached the subcutaneous fat and superficial veins, with areas that should have clotted and scabbed over once again stained red.

It was as if an invisible snake body still coiled upon him, tightening step by step and deepening the injury, or perhaps the damage had already been done, merely revealing itself gradually.

This forced him to frequently change the bandages himself; after exhausting all the supplies brought before departure, the arm he had only temporarily immobilized felt even more painful, heaven knows whether it was a hairline fracture or a broken bone.

As expected, after several days of jolting travel, when they arrived at the clinic established by the monastery at the foot of the mountain, the priest was down to his last breath, and whether he could last until they reached the top was a grim question.

Continuing to live could hardly be called a blessing from the Heavenly Father for the priest, but rather a futile prolongation of suffering. At this point, only simple treatment could be done at the clinic, then they would head up the mountain to find Mr. Kraft and try their luck.

Surprisingly, the usually quiet clinic was packed with families and patients seeking medical care and medicine; apart from the essential laborers tending the fields, basically the entire town was here.

The resident monks maintained order weakly, with little effect.

Although the local residents did not openly disrupt order, this did not stop them from shoving back and forth, shifting left and right within the crooked, shapeless queue, seizing a more forward position whenever others weren't looking, thereby generating various conflicts.

Occasionally, someone would poke their head out to question why those ahead were not moving, wasting time, while those in front would in turn accuse the newcomers of being unreasonable and cutting in line to disrupt order.

Some conflicts quickly escalated from verbal arguments to physical collisions, stopped by the overwhelmed monks. He tried to understand what exactly both sides wanted him to judge as right or wrong, but his words were quickly drowned out by more complaints and pleas.

At the end of the queue, in the eye of the storm, the Abbot himself sat behind the counter, listening to a peasant woman holding a swaddled infant describe something with both words and gestures, from the bald patch on the back of the head to the nodules on the chest, then to the red spots on the buttocks, nodding occasionally to indicate he was thinking, showing no intention of maintaining order on the scene.

A layer of formulaic seriousness and earnestness was plastered on his face, while his eyes had already drifted to who knows where, perhaps wandering within the heavy shadows inside the room, or perhaps not focusing at all.

Although it was daytime, not a single window, including the skylight, was fully open; at most, a slit for illumination was left, and from a distance, only a bright white band of light could be seen, with no view of the sky outside.

Several candles stood on the counter, ensuring the basic light needed for writing; the slightly trembling circles of light diffused the honeyed and herbal fragrance unique to beeswax, carving out a space undisturbed by the chaos. Those who approached would unconsciously quiet down, as if an invisible hand rested on their shoulders.

The clamor pushed the tranquility to the center. There were almost no church elements arranged in the scene, yet it possessed the sense of a stained-glass illustration stepping into reality, an atmosphere that neither stained glass nor vaulted ceilings could bring.

Kup was stunned for a moment; his first reaction was not surprise, but suspicion that he was experiencing a hallucination. After all, from the scene to the people, everything looked somewhat abnormal.

He rubbed his eyes and forced his way through the crowd. Although only one arm was movable, this was not very difficult.

Perhaps the page's eloquence and volume far exceeded those of the monks; the townsfolk all displayed a rational and understanding side, voluntarily making way for the injured.

And the ever-perceptive Mr. Kraft surprisingly did not notice anyone approaching, still immersed in a strange trance.

"Mr. Kraft, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, Kup, you're back." His eyes refocused, lingering for a moment on the roughly bandaged arm, then looking over his shoulder to see Yvon behind, and Benny, wiping away non-existent cold sweat, "It's good you're back."

"You...?" Kup stepped aside from others and asked in a low voice, "Why did you come down?"

With his keen eyesight, he could see that Mr. Kraft was far from being in the right state of mind. Making house calls to treat minor illnesses seemed more like self-regulation, an attempt to pull his mental state back on track, but currently, the effect was clearly poor.

What was hard to understand was why he didn't rest properly on the mountain, but instead specifically came down to the foot to find trouble.

"I just felt... the mountain is too high; I need to change the environment." The doctor saw through his worry but had no intention of sharing, turning instead to ask about his business trip, "It looks like you had a fight?"

"Indeed, just one fight, nearly costing our lives; we'll discuss these details later." Kup said with a bitter smile, somewhat unsure whether he should have brought the priest over; a brand new critical patient was undoubtedly adding burdens of various meanings to Mr. Kraft.

But he understood Mr. Kraft as a doctor better than Mr. Kraft understood himself; the latter might hesitate, but would never wish to miss a patient.

And as an assistant and squire, he would not go against the doctor's will.

"We have a patient, urgent and critical."

"Next time, say that first."

Mr. Kraft stood up from behind the counter, waved his hand to disperse the crowd, and the residents left like a retreating tide, "Everyone come back next week; today we have an emergency. The monastery is right here, and so am I."

As he walked, a sense of capability returned with every step; when he reached the door, however, he paused and ordered, "Bring the person in."

"This is him."

A lump previously unnoticed came into view; he had been placed on a doorboard fitted with two carrying poles for easy transport, wrapped tightly from top to bottom with almost no gaps, his breathing rising and falling so faintly it was pitiful.

When carried in, he looked more like a tomb owner Kup had moved from some pyramid using his discipline's unique skills, rather than a living person.

"You brought so many bandages?"

"Just in case; better safe than sorry, and look, they came in handy." Kup was immensely grateful for having taken a few extra sets of medical supply kits before leaving.

"Elderly male, multiple linear superficial sharp-force injuries all over the body; wound edges are regular. I performed compression hemostasis on the spot, debrided and bandaged within two hours; now it's been almost four full days."

"Very lucky; his blood loss was controlled, otherwise he wouldn't have lasted until now. You did well."

"What caused the wounds?"

"Scales."

Kup noticed Mr. Kraft subconsciously lift his head, his gaze piercing through the tightly closed skylight, pointing toward the infinite heights above.

?? The author has officially started work (*ˉ︶ˉ*)

? Once everything stabilizes, updates will gradually resume.

? Here, I'll also recommend a book by a group member: "Old Day Sequence"

? (^3^) You can go take a look.