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Eldritch Horror? No, I'm A Doctor
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"That gramp really went all out, huh?"
Ren sat at the reception desk wearing his black plague doctor mask, scrolling through his phone. The article on the screen showed a frozen cityscape, ice sculptures that used to be monsters, and a photo of Colonel Steven Bright standing on top of a frozen Fire Titan.
The headline read: "Colonel Steven Bright Freezes Destruction-Rank Monster to Save Citizens of the Empire."
Ren skimmed through the article. It was all praise, all glory, all heroism. No mention of the civilians who'd died before the Colonel arrived. No discussion of why gate breaks were becoming more frequent. No questions about whether the military's response protocols were adequate.
"News in the Azareth Empire is controlled by the military," Ren muttered.
"Can't have people asking uncomfortable questions. That's authoritarianism for you."
It had been three days since the Colonel's grafting procedure. Three days since Ren had watched a military officer turn into something more than human. Three days of waiting for new patients.
And in those three days, nobody had come to Hector Clinic.
"System, I'm gonna die of boredom here," Ren said, tossing his phone onto the desk.
"When will customers actually show up?"
How should I know? Maybe you should do some marketing.
"Marketing? What am I supposed to do, put up a sign that says 'Eldritch Surgery, Reasonable Rates'?"
You could try social media. TokTok seems popular these days.
"Yeah, I'll just post a video of me pulling someone's intestines out with tentacles. That'll get great engagement."
Sarcasm is beneath you.
"No, it's pretty much at my level." Ren leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking. "Besides, word of mouth should work eventually. The Colonel got results. He'll tell people. They'll come."
Or they'll think he made a deal with a demon and avoid you entirely.
"Also possible."
They sat in silence for a moment. Well, Ren sat in silence. The System existed in whatever metaphysical space System consciousnesses existed in.
"You know," Ren said, picking at a loose thread on his coat,
"You can actually have a civilized conversation with me when it's not about power or procedures or cosmic horror. Why is that?"
Are you asking me why I can be reasonable?
"Yeah. Most of the time you're just fucking with me. But sometimes, like now, you're almost... normal."
I'm still angry at you.
Ren blinked. "What?"
For making me a Divine Doctor System into a Doctor of the Ruin Gospel. You're lucky I didn't actually summon the Black Young to eat your horror ass.
"Getting my ass eaten is already disgusting," Ren replied.
"But getting it eaten by a servitor race of Shub-*****rath? I'll pass, thank you."
See? You understand boundaries. That's progress.
"Are you being sarcastic or sincere right now? I genuinely can't tell."
Both. I contain multitudes.
"You contain multitudes of bullshit, that's what you contain."
Cling.
The door chime rang.
Ren straightened in his chair, his hand instinctively moving to adjust his mask. The door swung open, and five people walked in. Four were clearly military, wearing combat uniforms with various insignia. The fifth wore an officer's dress uniform, immaculate and perfectly pressed.
The officer in front was handsome in an unsettling way. Too perfect. His face was symmetrical to the point of being almost artificial, with a sharp jawline and smooth pale skin. His eyes were crystal silver with faint violet rings. His black hair had a metallic sheen, styled so precisely it looked like he'd just stepped out of a portrait.
Behind him was a young woman who moved like she was part of the shadows themselves. Her steps made no sound. Her presence was so subtle that Ren's eyes kept wanting to slide past her.
The handsome officer smiled, gentle and disarming.
"Hello. Are you the doctor here?"
Ren stood, his chair scraping slightly against the floor.
"Yes. And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"
"Brigadier General Varyn Helles." The officer's smile widened slightly.
"And this is my assistant, Emily."
Emily nodded once, her expression neutral.
"I suppose I should introduce myself as well," Ren said, inclining his head.
"I'm Nox, owner and doctor of Hector Clinic."
"Hmm." Varyn looked at Ren with open curiosity, his silver eyes scanning the mask, the black coat, the entire setup.
"You look amusing. And why do you name your clinic Hector Clinic?"
"Ah, that. It comes from the name of a handsome doctor I know," Ren replied smoothly.
"He's pretty good at surgery, but people don't like him very much."
"You're quite the joker, Doctor."
The silence lingered for a second or two. Ren waited. Varyn smiled. The four soldiers stood at attention, their hands near their weapons.
"So," Ren said finally, breaking the silence,
"Let's address the elephant in the room. You all don't look injured at all. Why did you come here?"
"I heard something quite interesting from my sources," Varyn said, his tone still pleasant but carrying an edge now.
Ren felt a small spike of panic and annoyance.
"And what is that information?"
"You know what you're doing is in a gray zone, right?"
"What do you mean, exactly?" Ren's eyes narrowed behind his mask.
Varyn's smile remained, but his voice cooled slightly.
"Well, well. The monster parts and the grafting procedures. There's no law that explicitly restricts that, so that's a pass. But what if I, for example, reported this as human experimentation?" He tilted his head.
"You know I have the authority to do that, right? For the safety of the Empire?"
Ren sighed and leaned against the reception desk.
"So what are you gonna do?"
Varyn's eyes widened slightly. Clearly, he hadn't expected that response.
"I asked what the fuck you're gonna do," Ren continued, his tone flat.
"You came here with that attitude, but you haven't acted on any of the shit you just threatened me with. So either you're here to arrest me, or you want to use the service. Which is it?"
Varyn opened his mouth, then closed it.
"If you want the transplant service," Ren said, crossing his arms,
"Then stop with the fucking nonsensical stupid antics and just discuss the process like a normal person."
The atmosphere in the room shifted. The four soldiers glanced at each other nervously, then at their general. Emily's expression remained neutral, but her posture tensed slightly.
With his personality, this is gonna be trouble, one of the soldiers thought, though his face stayed carefully blank.
"You're right, Doctor," Varyn said slowly. His smile didn't change, but something in his eyes did.
"I am here for your grafting service. But I don't like your tone."
Nox felt it immediately. The pressure at the edges of his mind, like fingers pressing against a door. Subtle at first, then growing stronger. A presence trying to slip inside his thoughts, to find purchase, to take control.
A System notification appeared in his vision.
╔═══════════════════════════════════════╗
║ MENTAL ATTACK DETECTED
╠═══════════════════════════════════════╣
║
║ Attack Type: Mental Domination
║ Rank: S
║ Status: RESISTED SUCCESSFULLY
╚═══════════════════════════════════════╝
The pressure vanished instantly, unable to find any purchase in Nox's mind. The protection from the Mental resistance was absolute against mental intrusion.
Everyone in the room went still.
The four soldiers stared, their eyes wide. Emily's neutral expression cracked, showing genuine shock. Even Varyn's perfect composure slipped, his smile faltering.
"You..." Varyn's voice was quiet, disbelieving. "You resisted?"
"Yeah," Nox said, and his voice had gone very cold. "I did."
The Brigadier General looked offended, then angry. His silver eyes narrowed, the violet rings seeming to pulse.
"That's impossible. My skill is S rank. Nobody resists on the first attempt."
"Apparently, I do."
But Ren had felt it. Not the mind control itself, which had bounced off harmlessly. But the attempt. The invasion. Someone trying to get into his head, trying to touch his thoughts, his memories.
Trying to touch his fears.
And there was one fear Ren kept buried deep. One terror he never wanted to confront again. The fear of his mind and memories being tampered with without his consent.
That fear had been touched. Just for a moment. Just a brush.
And it woke something up.
The temperature in the clinic dropped. Not gradually. Instantly. Cracks formed on the windows. The air became thick, heavy, and hard to breathe.
And the pressure returned.
But this time, it wasn't coming from Varyn.
It was coming from Nox.
The four soldiers screamed. Not shouts of pain or fear, but primal, animalistic sounds. Blood poured from their eyes, running down their faces in red streams. They collapsed, unconscious before they hit the ground.
Emily dropped to her knees so hard the impact made a cracking sound. Her head slammed against the floor. A wet stain spread across her pants as she lost control of her bladder. Blood dripped from her nose, pooling on the tile.
Varyn fell to one knee, his perfect posture finally breaking. His face, usually so composed and gentle, was twisted with raw terror. His silver eyes were wide, his pupils dilated. His breath came in gasping pants.
The mind controller, the man who made others feel fear, was experiencing it himself for the first time.
"Do you know what I hate most?" Nox's voice came out like a growl, raspy and inhuman. The words seemed to come from everywhere at once.
"When someone tries to fuck with my mind."
He was trembling. Not from fear. From anger. Pure, absolute rage at having his thoughts violated, at having someone try to reach into the most private parts of his consciousness.
Nox's body began to change.
The black coat split open as tentacles emerged. Not two or three, but dozens. They bloomed from his back, his shoulders, his neck. Each one was tipped with a circular mouth lined with small, sharp teeth.
And each mouth held something.
Surgical tools.
Scalpels that curved in impossible ways. Needles that looked like they could pierce through reality itself. Clamps with teeth that seemed to move on their own. And in the largest tentacle, gripped firmly, was the chainsaw.
CPR.
VRZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
The sound of the chainsaw starting filled the clinic. The teeth spun, creating a high-pitched whine that seemed to resonate in the bones.
Varyn looked up at the figure looming over him. At the mass of black tentacles, each one holding an instrument of surgical horror. At the mask that hid a face he suddenly realized he'd never seen. At the presence that pressed down on his mind with a weight that made his S-rank mental abilities seem like a child's toy.
And in that moment, Brigadier General Varyn Helles, Duke of the Enslaved Mind, one of the ten S rank hunters in the Azareth Empire, realized something fundamental.
The being in front of him was not human.
It had never been human.
It was pretending to be human, but the mask had slipped, and underneath was something ancient and terrible and far beyond his understanding.