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Eldritch Horror? No, I'm A Doctor
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Ren lifted the unconscious soldier onto his back, and the heat radiating from the burned body hit him like opening an oven door.
The smell was worse. Charred flesh and melted synthetic material, so strong it penetrated straight through his plague doctor mask's filters. His eyes watered. His throat tried to close against the acrid stench of cooked meat and burning plastic.
He carried the soldier through the clinic to the operating room, each step careful despite the urgency. The man's exposed muscle tissue was slick against Ren's coat, leaving wet stains. The fused boots scraped against the floor with a sound that set Ren's teeth on edge.
How is he even alive?
S-rank constitution, probably. Or pure willpower.
"Not helping," Ren muttered.
He reached the operating room and laid the soldier on the preparation table as gently as possible. The paper covering crinkled and immediately began to soak through with fluid seeping from the exposed tissue.
Ren pulled off his right glove, revealing the palm mouth underneath. The mouth ringed with teeth move once.
He leaned over the soldier and inserted the needle tongue into the man's ear canal, pushing deep until it connected with the brain stem.
Information flooded in.
Third degree burns covering 98% of body surface. Epidermis completely destroyed. Dermis severely damaged. Muscle tissue exposed to air and contamination. Severe dehydration. Shock. Internal temperature regulation failure. Multiple organ systems beginning to shut down. Lungs damaged from inhaling superheated air. Eyes damaged from exposure. Foreign material fused with tissue at extremities.
Cause: Extreme heat exposure. Magical in origin. Flame type attack. S rank.
Prognosis without intervention: Death within 30 minutes.
Prognosis with intervention: Survivable with extensive reconstruction.
Ren retracted the needle tongue and pulled his glove back on.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Let's perform the surgery."
His back split open as four tentacles emerged, each one tipped with a circular mouth holding surgical tools from the Outer God Surgical Set. Simultaneously, ten more tentacles sprouted from his head, bursting through the plague doctor mask in a crown of writhing appendages. Each one gripped a different instrument.
Fourteen tentacles total. All moving independently. All ready to work.
Ren reached for the Awakening Anesthesia syringe with his hand and injected it directly into the soldier's neck.
The effect was instantaneous.
The soldier's eyes snapped open, his entire body jolting as consciousness returned. He tried to sit up, but the anesthetic had already paralyzed his muscles. Only his eyes could move, darting wildly around the room.
"Where..." his voice was a rasp, barely human. "Where am I?"
"Operating room," Ren replied, positioning his tentacles.
"You're in critical condition. I'm going to perform emergency reconstructive surgery. You won't be able to move, but you'll remain conscious. Try not to panic."
"What... happened..."
"That's what I'd like to know. But first, I need to keep you alive. This is going to be unpleasant."
The scalpel touched exposed muscle, and the soldier screamed.
The sound was raw and primal, the kind of scream that came from somewhere beyond pain, beyond fear, into pure animal terror. The Awakening Anesthesia kept him paralyzed but fully aware of every sensation.
Ren worked quickly. The scalpel carved away dead tissue while forceps held the wounds open. Another tentacle wielded a cauterizing iron, sealing blood vessels. The smell of burning flesh got worse.
"STOP! PLEASE! GOD, PLEASE STOP!"
"Can't stop," Ren said calmly. "You'll die if I stop."
A tentacle from his head brought forward the CPR. The teeth spun to life with a high-pitched whine.
The soldier's eyes went wide.
"NO! NO! NOT A CHAINSAW! PLEASE, NOT—"
The chainsaw touched his chest, and his screams reached a new pitch. But instead of tearing flesh, the chainsaw began to regenerate it. New tissue sprouted from the damaged areas, pink and raw but healthy. The regeneration spread outward in waves, following the path of the spinning blade.
It looked wrong. New skin growing from nothing, muscle fibers weaving themselves together, blood vessels sprouting like roots seeking water.
The soldier watched it happen, unable to look away, unable to close his eyes because he had no eyelids.
"WHAT IS THAT?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!"
"Saving your life," Ren replied.
"The chainsaw stimulates cellular regeneration. Very effective."
"IT'S A CHAINSAW! ON MY CHEST!"
"Normal doesn't apply here."
Another tentacle brought forward a needle that existed in multiple dimensions simultaneously. It wove through the soldier's body at impossible angles, stitching together structures that had been torn apart by heat.
The soldier continued screaming, describing every sensation in horrifying detail.
"I CAN FEEL IT INSIDE ME! THE NEEDLE IS GOING THROUGH MY RIBS BUT THERE'S NO HOLE! HOW IS THERE NO HOLE?!"
"Multidimensional suturing. Very useful for complex repairs."
"THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT BETTER!"
The surgery continued. Ren removed the melted boot material from the soldier's feet, cutting away the fused synthetic fabric and replacing the damaged tissue with regenerated flesh. The Chainsaw Puppy Regeneration buzzed constantly, stimulating growth across the entire body.
New skin began to spread across the soldier's torso, arms, legs. It grew in patches at first, then connected into continuous sheets. The process was accelerated far beyond natural healing, tissue forming in minutes instead of weeks.
The soldier watched his own reconstruction, screaming the entire time, providing a running commentary of every grotesque detail.
"MY SKIN IS GROWING BACK! I CAN SEE IT GROWING! IT'S CRAWLING ACROSS MY MUSCLES! GOD, IT'S SPREADING TO MY FACE! I CAN FEEL MY EYELIDS GROWING BACK! THEY'RE ITCHING! WHY ARE THEY ITCHING?!"
"New nerve endings," Ren explained, using forceps to guide the tissue growth.
"They're connected to your nervous system. The itching means it's working."
"I HATE THIS! I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS!"
"Would you prefer to be dead?"
"RIGHT NOW? MAYBE!"
Forteen minutes later, the soldier's body was completely covered in new skin. It was pink and tender, sensitive to every movement of air, but it was intact. His hair would take longer to grow back, but the eyelids had regenerated, allowing him to finally blink.
Ren retracted all fourteen tentacles back into his body. The surgical tools disappeared into the mouths before the appendages vanished beneath his coat and mask.
"Surgery complete," Ren announced.
"You'll be tender for a few days, but you should make a full recovery."
The soldier lay there, still paralyzed, his new eyelids blinking rapidly. Tears ran down his regenerated cheeks.
"I'm alive?"
"Unfortunately for your sanity, yes."
"That was... that was the most horrifying experience of my entire life."
"I get that a lot."
Ren pulled a chair over and sat down beside the operating table, waiting for the anesthetic to wear off.
"I'm Dr. Nox," he said. "And you are?"
The soldier took several deep breaths, his new lungs working properly for the first time since the injury. When he spoke, his voice was still trembling.
"Lieutenant Adrian Cross. Special Forces. A-rank hunter. Serial number 7-7-4-2-9-Alpha."
"Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant." Nox leaned forward slightly.
"Now. What the fuck happened to you?"
Adrian's expression shifted, his military training reasserting itself despite the trauma. His jaw tightened.
Nox's posture changed. The casual demeanor vanished, replaced by something cold. The pressure in the room increased, subtle but unmistakable.
"I asked you a question, Lieutenant."
Adrian held firm, though sweat broke out on his newly regenerated skin.
"I... I was protecting your clinic, sir. From external threats."
"Protecting my clinic from what?"
"Cultists."
Nox sat back, his plague doctor mask tilting upward.
Ha! I was right all along, you fuck!.
One lucky guess doesn't make you a detective.
It wasn't a guess. It was informed paranoia.
Still paranoia.
Adrian watched this one sided conversation with confusion and growing concern.
Nox returned his attention to the soldier.
"Tell me about these cultists."
Adrian hesitated, clearly weighing what information he was authorized to share.
"They call themselves the Children of the Mother Goat. They've been active in the city for at least thirty years. We've been hunting them, but they're persistent. Like cockroaches."
"And what do they want with my clinic?"
"They want you, Doctor. They believe you're connected to their deity somehow."
"What?"
"We don't know the exact name. The intelligence we've gathered just calls it 'The Mother.' Something from another dimension. Something that spawns horrors. The cultists believe it will grant them salvation through transformation."
"Transformation into what?"
"Monsters. Abominations. They see it as evolution."
Nox processed this silently. After a moment, he spoke again.
"And the explosion beneath my clinic?"
"That was the fight. I didn't think I'd make it."
"You barely did."
Adrian tried to sit up and found he could move again. The anesthetic had finally worn off. He swung his legs over the edge of the table carefully, testing his new skin.
"Doctor Nox," he said seriously.
"I need to protect you. The cultists won't stop. They're convinced you're essential to their plans. I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe."
Nox stared at him for a long moment. Then he laughed.
It wasn't a kind laugh.
"You can't even take care of yourself, and you want to protect me? You just got turned into charcoal and needed chainsaw surgery to survive. What exactly are you going to protect me from?"
Adrian's jaw tightened. "I'm still a soldier. I still have my duty."
"Your duty nearly got you killed."
"That's the job."
"Well, it's not mine." Nox stood up.
"You don't have to worry about protecting me, Lieutenant. I can handle myself just fine."
"But the cultists—"
"Are a problem I'll deal with if they become my problem. Until then, you focus on recovering. Your new skin is delicate. Don't do anything strenuous for at least three days."
Adrian opened his mouth to argue, but Nox had already turned away.
Hey System, How many fear points do I have?
Oh, NOW you care about your progression? After ignoring it for two months?
Just tell me.
You could say please.
I could also threaten to become a veterinarian again.
...Fine. Current fear points: 705,000 out of 700,000. You've exceeded the threshold for rank advancement.
Wait, I can rank up?
That's what 'exceeded the threshold' means, genius.
Then rank me up.
You sure? This might be uncomfortable.
Just do it.
Rank advancement initiated. Upgrading from B-rank to A-rank. Current class: Doctor of the Ruin Gospel. Preparing system integration and—
The entire clinic shook violently.
Not an earthquake. Something else. Something internal.
The walls began to change.
The paint cracked and peeled away in long strips. The plaster beneath turned dark, then deep crimson, then began to pulse with a rhythm like a heartbeat. Soft tissue erupted from every surface, spreading across the clinic's interior.
Red flesh covered everything. It grew from the ceiling in hanging masses. It sprouted from the floor in soft mounds. The windows remained, but they were now set into walls of meat and muscle tissue that contracted and expanded with each pulse.
Adrian scrambled off the operating table, staring in horror at the transformation. The flesh grew up the legs of the table, over the surgical instruments, across the floor toward his bare feet.
"What is this?! What's happening?!"
Nox stood perfectly still, watching his clinic transform. The red tissue climbed the walls, pulsing with internal fluids. It spread across the ceiling in web like patterns. The air grew warmer, more humid, filled with the smell of blood and raw biology.
The flesh continued to grow.