Chapter 496: When Divine Magic is Powerless, It’s Ti for Surgery to Take the Stage
After the treatnt, Archmage Novak almost dragged Garrett to co-write a paper with him. The Lord of Thunder, considering that Novak had saved one of his own, couldn’t really refuse. He gestured his approval for Garrett to go along with him.
It’s only polite to treat healers well, after all. You, your family, and your apprentices never know when you might need their services.
Garrett: …sigh.jpg. I’m a doctor too, why don’t I get such preferential treatnt from my teacher…
Garrett held the pen and described topics related to the violent expansion of liquid nitrogen, intestinal perforation, and the hypothesis that nitrogen dissolved in the blood could lead to air embolisms;
Archmage Novak supplented the treatnt-related content, cutting, copying, and printing pictures from the materials provided by the Tower Spirits, and handling the publication of the paper;
Then, both signed as co-first authors, and the glorious second author was student Michael Worster…
"You’re really too good to him." After the paper was completed and it was already evening, Archmage Novak held a small banquet for Garrett, half-joking, half-complaining:
"What did that boy do? He just drank a cup of liquid nitrogen, and we saved him, yet we’re giving him the position of second author?"
"Well, after all, it’s a particularly rare case. If it wasn’t for his foolhardy act, we wouldn’t have been able to publish this paper…"
Garrett grinned. Well, it’s not easy to find a daredevil who goes to such lengths, especially one among the mages of the Lord of Thunder. Giving him a little recognition to "revive him a bit" is still acceptable.
Of course, mainly because he’s not my own apprentice. If he were my apprentice, daring to pour liquid nitrogen into his mouth, I’d definitely kick him out!
Dinner was extrely enjoyable. Archmage Novak is not a native of the Kent Kingdom but had fled from the core regions of the Radiant Church’s power after becoming a mage. Having lived in Nevis for decades, his tastes still retained the habits of his youth:
The pan-fried silver cod was deliciously tender, slightly charred on the outside and pearly white inside, each bite was a delightful mory;
The squid ink seafood risotto was rich and creamy, with plump shrimp, and Garrett was moved to tears by the long-missed taste of rice;
The clam chowder was light and fragrantly fresh, beyond compare;
White asparagus was served on a pitch-black plate, decorated with two mushrooms, like flowers blooming in spring. Pan-fried in butter and sprinkled with sesa seeds, the texture was exceptionally tender with a hint of creamy aroma…
Ahh, the diterranean diet is indeed closer to Chinese cuisine, and much more to my taste. Garrett was overwheld: In contrast, the local dishes of the Kent Kingdom are re belly fillers…
After dinner, Archmage Novak and Garrett leaned by the fireplace, one holding a glass of wine, the other a cup of tea, chatting sporadically. They talked about their travels, magic insights, and unusual patients encountered in their dical practices…
Actually, under the influence of Igor’s enchantnt, the Tower of Heaven and its surrounding towers are nearly at a constant temperature, making the fireplace more of a ceremonial feature. Nonetheless, the warm glow of the fire was indeed relaxing:
"Little Garrett, you should publish more papers. You’re always busy treating and healing people and never publish anything. How would anyone know how good your healing arts are? hic"
As they talked, Archmage Novak’s speech beca more rapid. His eyes twinkled, his voice fluctuating as if he were about to get drunk:
"Like today, you could have handled it alone, right? But Archmage Byer insisted on calling
over—"
Garrett kept smiling, neither nodding nor speaking. Archmage Novak waved his hand:
"Don’t be modest. If it were , I’d have to cast at least three or four [Serious Wounds] spells. But you, you just cut open the belly, let the gas out, and looked inside with the Arcane Eye, barely needing one [Serious Wounds] spell, plus a few for moderate and minor wounds..."
That’s not really the point. Such severe injuries would involve a whole host of respiratory issues, arrhythmias, and other complications. Having a high-level healer around really eases my mind. Garrett wanted to modestly deflect, but Archmage Novak cut him off:
"See, that’s what I an. You’re just a Level 5 mage. In Nevis City, what does Level 5 count for? There are mages, archbishops over Level 10, even Level 15 and above, everywhere. Who would think of you for a complicated illness?"
That is indeed true. Garrett nodded silently:
For example
, residents of the capital with a slightly troubleso illness all rush to top-tier hospitals, running straight to group leaders and directors. For really tough cases, there’s always the ultimate move—going to Union dical.
A resident doctor from a second-tier hospital, who would co to you?
"So yeah, write papers, write papers." Archmage Novak, slightly tipsy, stretched out his arm, his large, sturdy palm patting Garrett on the shoulder repeatedly:
"Best to find diseases others can’t cure, that you can heal. Treat one, publish one. Over ti, for all sorts of bizarre cases, they’ll co looking for you…"
"So, your excellency Archmage, what diseases are there that healing arts can’t cure?"
Garrett asked earnestly. So far, the diseases he had encountered that could not be cured by healing arts and could be treated with modern dicine were not many. Except for that one case of a ruptured arm tendon and a persistent arterial duct—
Or rather, low-level healing arts can’t handle it, needing sothing like Limited Wish or Wish spells.
There might be others, but he hadn’t seen enough patients to gather data.
Children from poor families don’t even go for treatnt; they give up and may die without even knowing it was an illness;
Rich folks, nobility, as Archmage Novak said, why would they co to a Level 5 mage?
"Hmm…"
Archmage Novak raised his hand to stroke his beard. His pale golden beard instantly seed dimr, his gaze lowered, and he suddenly appeared years older. That forlorn expression was all too familiar to Garrett:
"There are quite a few. For instance, the Necromancer’s [Decaying Cyst], a rotting cyst placed inside the body, no healing art can treat it. Heal Moderate Wounds, Heal Serious Wounds, Remove Toxin, Cure Disease...none of them work."
Garrett had heard about this. The rotting cysts placed by necromancers can only be removed surgically, as no healing art is effective. Perhaps due to a conflict in energy types, either the cyst grows larger with treatnt, or it bursts right then and there.
As for surgery, no school is more proficient than the necromancers. Perhaps, this is also a warning from the school of necromancy, or a way to mark their territory:
My prey, don’t touch!
"If it’s surgery, I’m sowhat confident," Garrett nodded lightly. Moreover, with his relationship with the Black Crow Swamp, doing a case or two infected by a rotting cyst probably wouldn’t result in necromancers knocking at his door?
Hmm, next ti I’ll give it a try...
"Are there more?"
"There are quite a few," Archmage Novak began to count on his fingers:
"When I was traveling in the New World, I once saw two children born conjoined. The locals said it was so demon’s curse, and they threw them into the wilderness to be devoured by wild beasts. I brought them back, hoping to separate them with healing arts..."
Conjoined twins, eh. Garrett thought about it: Healing arts can only follow the natural growth process of a person, clearly, no two conjoined twins would naturally separate as they grew.
This would require surgical separation, but that’s also very tricky... "So what happened next?"
"Later I consulted my teacher, who was also very interested, and used a Limited Wish...they were separated, but still, they died..."
That... probably didn’t properly divide the organs, did it? Garrett silently bowed his head, choosing not to comnt. Archmage Novak sighed:
"Another child, well... anyway, it was so noble’s child, born with a cleft lip. They had so influence, had many healers look at it, I looked too, but healing arts didn’t work, and it wasn’t worth using a Limited Wish..."
Cleft lip repair surgery... looks minor, but is actually very delicate, with many challenges. Garrett scratched his head; if he were to perform the surgery... well, he could guarantee stitching up the lip, but whether it would look good, heaven knows...
"Afterwards, it couldn’t be cured. An heir to a family, can’t be too ugly." Archmage Novak took another big swig of his drink, his thick eyebrows furrowing tightly:
"Later, I heard he was sent to the countryside, and the family switched to another heir... Ah..."
That ans, this child, likely died. It’s truly unfortunate. Although cleft lip repair surgery is not easy to do well, in modern dicine, it’s just a matter of how well it can be repaired, not whether it can be repaired at all.
To lose a life just because of a cleft lip is just too tragic.
Archmage Novak kept drinking and sighing, recounting three or five cases where healing arts were powerless. So Garrett knew how to treat, so, Garrett had no answer for:
Like
one case, clearly a diabetic ergency, you could already sll the distinct aroma of rotten apples on the breath. A healing art spell cast, and the patient imdiately fell unconscious; another spell, and the patient died—
Healing arts are ant to accelerate the body’s circulation, promote healing, too much thrown in, tabolism speeds up, ketones accumulate rapidly, ketoacidosis and death within minutes!
But what can I do, I don’t have insulin…
Garrett could only accompany the Archmage in sighing, while offering so simple advice: such as diabetic patients should control their diet, not eat refined flour, not eat sugar, and so on.
Though such asures probably wouldn’t help soone already exhaling the sll of rotten apples. In my past life, encountering such a patient would an imdiate dical intervention!
The two n substituted wine with tea, clinking cups over and over, the conversation growing more lancholic. As the night deepened, just as Archmage Novak was about to suggest "stay in the guest room for the night," one of his apprentices suddenly rushed in, flustered:
"Master, master, Viscount Calrend’s family requests your consultation! They said... their newborn... was born without the..."
"Without what?"
"You know... that!"
Garrett covered his face on the side. Alright, no need to say more, with such a panicked entrance, the missing part is probably that cursed "your son was born without XX"...
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