"Ugh..."
A surge of sharp pain radiated from the back of his head, forcibly dragging John's consciousness out from the abyss of unconsciousness.
He groaned as he opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, and the world was spinning.
"Awake?"
A calm voice sounded above his head.
John struggled to roll his eyes. The first thing that came into view was a pair of leather boots covered in mud.
Then, there was that...
That eerie white lab coat, stained with dark red blood.
"It's you!"
Memories flooded back instantly.
John's pupils constricted abruptly. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins, and a chill rushed from his tailbone straight to the crown of his head.
It was the mysterious youth surrounded by monsters!
The Pale Demon!
He hadn't left! He was still here!
"Ah—!"
John let out a terrified scream, instinctively struggling to scramble up and flee.
But as soon as he moved, a heart-wrenching pain shot through his left hand, so intense he nearly blacked out again.
He looked down and saw his left hand was pinned firmly into a crack in a rock by a half-shattered gun barrel. It was a bloody mess, and he couldn't move it at all.
"Don't move around. It'll only worsen the injury."
Victor's voice sounded calm, even carrying a hint of professional medical detachment.
"The radial artery in your left hand has been severed by a shard of the gun barrel. You've lost over 800 milliliters of blood. Furthermore, you have a severe blunt force trauma to the back of your head, which may be accompanied by intracranial hemorrhage."
"If it's not treated immediately, you'll die of hemorrhagic shock within ten minutes."
John couldn't process these professional medical terms at all.
In his mind, what the man was saying could be translated into something much simpler and far more terrifying:
'You're about to die, and you'll be my next meal shortly.'
"You... don't come any closer!"
John used his still-movable right hand to desperately grope the ground, trying to find a stone to use as a weapon.
"I'm warning you! I... I don't taste good! I'm just a bag of old bones, my meat is tough and stringy!"
Victor looked at the old man, who seemed possessed by a drama-queen spirit, and sighed helplessly.
It seemed his 'persecutory delusion' had reached the terminal stage, causing severe hallucinations.
"Sir, please calm down."
Victor tried to soothe him.
"I'm really not here to eat you."
As he spoke, he pulled his beloved tool from the hiking bag behind him...
The 【Rusty Saw of Redemption】.
Vroom— vroom-vroom—
Victor skillfully pulled the starter cord.
The chainsaw idled twice, seemingly unaccustomed to the damp air.
However, that iconic roar, like the growl of a beast, sounded exceptionally piercing and terrifying in the deathly silence of the ruins.
John's movements froze.
He stared dumbfounded at the hideous chainsaw in the man's hand, its teeth still stained with unidentified bits of meat.
A... a chainsaw?
Isn't he a mage?
What kind of mage uses a chainsaw to cast spells?!
No!
He wasn't a mage at all!
He was a butcher!
A psychopathic butcher who liked to dismember people alive with a chainsaw!
"Help... help..."
John completely broke down.
For the first time, a look of pure 'despair' appeared on his weathered old face.
He had imagined dying under the claws of monsters, or perhaps starving or falling ill in this cursed land.
But he never dreamed his final end would be getting sliced into sashimi by a man with a chainsaw!
"You... you devil! You'll die a horrible death!"
John gave up resisting and closed his eyes in despair, spatting out a vicious curse.
"Even if I become a ghost, I won't let you off!"
Victor shook his head wordlessly at the old man's 'ready to die' act.
This old guy's imagination was way too vivid.
"I told you not to be afraid."
"I only took out the chainsaw to save you."
As Victor spoke, he carried the roaring chainsaw and strode toward John.
With every step he took, John's heart grew colder.
He's coming.
He's here.
The grim reaper with the chainsaw is coming to harvest my soul.
John could even smell the pungent scent of engine oil and feel the gale whipped up by the high-speed rotating teeth.
Goodbye, my yet-to-be-born granddaughter.
Goodbye, this shitty world.
Victor reached John's side, but he didn't go for the neck as John expected.
Instead, he crouched down and carefully observed the gun barrel trapping John's left hand.
"Hmm, it's stuck tight."
"To get the hand out, I'll have to cut this half of the barrel first."
Victor muttered to himself, then raised the chainsaw.
He even gave a 'thoughtful' reminder:
"There might be some sparks. Bear with it."
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!
The ear-piercing sound of metal friction suddenly exploded!
The high-speed rotating teeth bit hard into the rigid steel gun barrel, instantly erupting into a large spray of dazzling sparks.
Scorching iron filings flew everywhere, a few even splashing onto John's face, making him shudder.
But he didn't dare open his eyes.
He thought... that was the sound of his own bones being sawn open.
Victor's movements were incredibly fast.
In less than ten seconds.
Clang!
A crisp sound rang out.
The piece of barrel, thicker than his arm, snapped apart.
Victor turned off the chainsaw and tossed it aside.
He grabbed John's bloody left hand and gave it a gentle tug, pulling it out from the crack in the rocks.
Then.
Pshhh.
A cold needle precisely pierced the vein in John's arm.
"Ugh!"
John let out a muffled groan.
He thought the final execution had arrived.
But the expected agony didn't come.
Instead, a cold liquid was injected into his vessels, quickly spreading throughout his body along with his circulation.
The sharp pain that had been like a maggot in his bones, nearly driving him insane, actually... vanished in that instant?
It disappeared without a trace.
In its place was an unprecedented sense of comfort, as if he were soaking in warm water.
"Eh?"
John was stunned.
He opened one eye in disbelief and looked cautiously at his left hand.
He saw the mysterious youth holding a bottle of transparent medicine and a cotton swab, meticulously cleaning his wound.
His movements were gentle and professional, his gaze as focused as if he were handling a rare treasure.
The savagery and ferocity he showed while holding the chainsaw were completely gone.
"This... this is..."
John's brain completely short-circuited.
What was going on?
Wasn't he going to kill me?
Why is he treating my injury?
What is that pungent-smelling medicine? Why did the wound stop bleeding as soon as it touched it?
And that thing he just injected into me... why does it not hurt at all after the shot?
"Feeling better?"
Victor asked without looking up.
He had already used tweezers to pluck out the iron shards embedded in John's palm one by one, his movements so fast they were like a blur.
"It... it doesn't hurt anymore,"
John answered instinctively, his voice dry.
"That's good."
Victor nodded.
"Those were a strong analgesic and a coagulant, specialties of our clinic."
"Effective, right?"
He picked up a roll of white bandage and began to wrap John's wound.
The bandaging technique was extremely professional—not too tight, not too loose—and he even tied a neat bow at the end.
"You... you..."
John looked at his hand, which had been properly treated, then at Victor's calm face. His mind was a total mess.
He finally plucked up the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on him.
"Who... who are you exactly?"
"Weren't you... going to kill me?"
Victor stopped what he was doing.
He looked up at the bewildered old man and suddenly found it a bit amusing.
He sighed, his face showing that helpless expression unique to doctors facing unreasonable patient families.
"Sir."
"How many times do I have to say it?"
He pointed to the white lab coat he was wearing, which, though bloodstained, still showed its professional cut.
"I am a doctor."
"I only used the chainsaw just now to save you."
"It's just that... my method of treatment might be... a little bit different from what you've seen before."
John stared at him blankly.
He looked into those clear, sincere eyes.
He looked at the group of 'monsters' behind him—though they looked grotesque, they were currently quiet and showed no hostility.
An absurd but seemingly only logical thought slowly emerged in his head, which had been dazed from the impact.
"You... are a doctor?"
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