As Mr. Hood described his condition, he even offered Jenkins a look, pulling back his robe and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the arm in question.
At first glance, the arm's size and shape looked perfectly normal. The only oddity was the stretch from his elbow to his shoulder, which had a bluish tinge, as if the flesh were on the verge of dying from a lack of blood. A closer look revealed what seed to be a thin black line beneath the skin. In contrast, the forearm and hand were a healthy, normal color.
"Many years ago, this arm was severed," he began. "I nearly died. An elder skilled in the healing arts saved my life, but the arm had been detached for too long. No amount of life energy could reattach it, and surgical procedures back then were nowhere near as advanced as they are now."
Mr. Hood offered a wry smile. He had already lowered his hood, revealing a face glistening with sweat. The weather was far too warm for such stifling clothes.
"But whether you're an ordinary man or an Enchanter, losing your right arm is incredibly inconvenient. So, I found a friend who used... so unconventional thods on the severed limb, allowing for a kind of reattachnt. See? It looked perfect—you couldn't tell the difference from the original. My wife and I have been together for years, and she never once suspected anything was amiss... But a while back, when I was handling that business with Mr. Black Cat, I was accidentally dragged into a Mysterious Realm and injured it. I didn't think it was serious, but... well, it ended up like this."
He tried to move the discolored right arm, and Jenkins heard the distinct, unnatural sound of bending tal.
"Is that a chanical arm?"
He asked, a note of caution in his voice.
"No, not entirely. My original arm was well-preserved, so it never fully died. When we prepared the replacent, we were able to augnt my original limb with chanical parts—fine steel cables, gears, bearings, and levers. It worked without a hitch for years. But the doctor who perford the surgery left Nolan long ago, so now that there's a problem, I have to figure out a solution on my own."
Mr. Hood had been trying to fix his arm ever since Jenkins was in Ruen. But far from making any progress, the problem had only grown worse. The night Jenkins had run into him and Mr. Black Cat just after returning to Nolan—the night of the dragon ga—the arm had at least been functional. Now, it could barely bend at all.
After exhausting all other options, an acquaintance of Mr. Hood's on the black market managed to contact a craftsman from the Church of Creation and Machinery who had recently arrived in Nolan. It had cost him a hefty sum, but he'd finally convinced one of them to attempt a treatnt.
Their appointed eting place was right here, and Mr. Hood had been waiting for the craftsman to arrive.
Now that he understood the situation, Jenkins tried to examine Mr. Hood's right arm himself. As Mr. Hood had described, it wasn't purely chanical, but rather an intricate fusion of flesh and machine.
This was nothing like the grotesque techniques of the Gear Artisans' Association, which gruesoly lded flesh with gears and bearings. Mr. Hood had simply used chanical components to nd bone and special alloys to replace severed nerves.
Neither man could explain the precise principles at work, but one thing was clear: the arm was "alive," not rely a lifeless appendage being manipulated.
"That doctor who treated you—do you know anything about his background? Is there any chance of finding him now?"
Jenkins asked, feigning a casual tone as he probed the arm with his life spirit. He received an imdiate answer. Mr. Hood rembered the doctor was a follower of the God of Nobility and Order, the sa deity Miss Silver Flute worshipped.
The God of Nobility and Order was a surprisingly powerful pseudo-god. His strength didn't co from the broad appeal of his core 'Nobility' domain, but from his domain over 'Order.' Order is the bedrock of civilization—not just human, but any—and the key to the survival of any intelligent species. While many deities, including the God of Destiny and Order, had domains related to order, the title of 'God of Order' was universally reserved for the God of Nobility and Order. Even the followers of Destiny didn't dispute this.
Hearing that the doctor had been a follower of this particular pseudo-god put Jenkins much more at ease. The God of Order was unequivocally benevolent, an ancient and powerful deity. There was absolutely no way his followers or his faith could be connected to the Gear Artisans' Association.
Reassured, he continued his examination, but what his life spirit revealed was far from optimistic. The damage to the chanical components was causing the surrounding flesh to die. A significant amount of tissue had already beco necrotic. If Mr. Hood hadn't been regularly visiting his elder—the old elf—for treatnt, his arm would likely be beyond saving by now.
"I can't treat an injury like this," Jenkins concluded. "The root of the problem isn't the flesh, it's the chanical parts. You're going to need soone who specializes in chanical repair."
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