A Hospital in Another World?

The barbarian elders all stood up, crowding around the operating table, staring at the old hunchback lying on it. Next to the operating table, Garrett watched the tumor intently, pressing, kneading, and pushing...

The old hunchback’s lump of a tumor had been observed and pondered over by everyone present for a treatment method.

But upon applying a healing spell, it either had no effect or grew larger; when medicated, it ruptured even more; blessings summoned from the gods of cows, bears, deer, and eagles all ended in vain, chuckling.

Elder Brock had once treated him himself. With a resolute heart, he cut off a large chunk of yellowish substance that looked like fat and healed it with a healing spell. The effect was immediate, earning the old hunchback’s endless gratitude and the admiration of all healers:

Truly a divine healer!

However, in less than a year and a half, the thing grew back even bigger than before. The old hunchback’s left shoulder was raised, and his right lowered, making him appear completely misshapen. This time, he dared not ask Elder Brock to cut the tumor again, and Elder Brock himself was hesitant to proceed.

And in the entire Akula, all healers were buzzing with speculation:

Could it be a curse from a malevolent god?

Or possessed by a demon?

It could be the spirit of a magical beast he had slain in his youth, coming back to haunt him?

Or, according to rumors, some necromancer who could implant a necrotic pouch in living beings, growing larger until it consumed the person?

—That thing should not be cut! If not done properly, it might splatter all over you, transferring the necrotic pouch onto you!

But as the strongest healer in Akula, Elder Brock always wanted to try. It wasn’t that he and the old hunchback were particularly close, but it was a matter of pride for all spellcasters...

An elder walking around with such a tumor was a slap in the face to them all, making it seem like none of them could cure it.

Just then, this foreign spellcaster, who dared to make cuts on people, let him give it a try! If successful, it might also resolve his own concerns...

Garrett, unaware of these intricate details and uninterested in knowing, focused all his energy on the massive tumor in front of him:

Tsk, tsk, tsk. The volume of this tumor is not small! It occupies almost the entire left back and even covers a part of the right back, including the deltoid, infraspinatus, trapezius, teres major, and latissimus dorsi...

All covered by it!

Even the central groove of the spine was pushed aside; considering if it had invaded the spine...

Of course, issues with the spine could be discussed later. First, Garrett examined the tumor: smooth surface, soft consistency, fairly mobile. Skin color and temperature normal, clear boundaries, slightly painful on pressure, size...

Let me measure it with a ruler; it’s over 30cm*20cm...

He pressed and pushed on the edges of the tumor, feeling quite satisfied. Although he was just an emergency doctor, not a dermatologist next door, his instincts told him this wasn’t something dangerous:

Normal color, smooth surface, currently no ulceration, excluding squamous cell carcinoma, melanoma, etc.; soft consistency, clear boundaries, excluding fibromas, hemangiomas, and the like. Basically, his instinct was that it was a very safe, very straightforward thing.

A lipoma?

Given the history, having previously cut off a large chunk of yellowish substance, resembling fat, the likelihood of a lipoma was indeed high. Now, let me check the spine!

Garrett stood straight and stretched his back. Elder Brock was watching him closely, and immediately asked:

“How is it? Can it be cured?”

“Wait, I haven’t finished checking yet.” Garrett shook his hand, still unable to say if it could be cured as the examination wasn’t finished. He helped the old hunchback stand up properly:

“Stand straight, stand straight! Keep your back straight! Don’t lean in any direction! Ah, and don’t deliberately tilt toward any side either; just stand as you normally do!”

Seraina, understanding the situation, took her position opposite. Garrett activated his [Magic Detection] and glanced up, immediately smiling:

The spine is quite good!

Not bent!

Considering his earlier observation of the left shoulder being higher and the right lower, he thought the tumor was so large it might have invaded the spine, causing scoliosis!

His expression relaxed, and the feather-crowned elder’s eyes lit up, about to speak. Garrett gestured with his hand, stepped two paces to the left, standing beside the old hunchback

. Meanwhile, Seraina moved to the right, perfectly assuming the duty of an X-ray source.

Hmm... the lateral view isn’t very clear... The tumor is a bit deep, and its relationship with surrounding tissues isn’t so easy to distinguish... It’s a pity, having a CT would be great...

“How is it? Is it okay now?”

The feather-crowned elder asked in a hushed voice. Garrett shook his head gently:

“No, it’s unclear.” He extended his finger and traced a line on the old man’s shoulder:

“I can’t see how deep the tumor goes inside, what nearby blood vessels are like. According to our agreement, please lend me a contract spirit so I can take a closer look.”

A buzzing sound erupted in the hall. No one dared to speak in the front rows, but whispers started among the crowd in the back:

“Really lend it to him?”

“A foreigner?”

“Having a contract spirit, even a child with a bit of talent could become an elder! Just like that, to give it away?”

“It’s just a loan, not a giveaway!”

The feather-crowned elder remained unruffled, seemingly deaf to the chatter. He signaled, and immediately, two young apprentices in white robes brought over a totem pole.

The totem pole was thick enough to be embraced by two people and over ten meters long; when placed in the center of the hall, it nearly reached the ceiling. The pole was dark and slick, coated in a thick layer of patina.

Brock turned toward the totem pole, murmuring softly, raised his palms high above his head, and clapped three times forcefully. Then, with his hands together in front of his chest, he began to chant a song in a language Garrett didn’t understand.

The song was robust and melancholic, resonant and passionate, exuding a wild aura that stirred Garrett’s heart. As it continued, a sharp eagle’s cry spiraled upward, reaching its peak before plunging down!

Garrett’s breath tightened. Instinctively, he activated his [Magic Detection], and in the halo of light, a blurred raptor’s shadow charged down, striking the totem pole. Its claws forcefully pulled out a round, shadowy figure.

“This totem spirit, I’ll lend it to you for a bit.” As if the meditation environment rippled like water, a grand, fiery presence came alongside, establishing a bridge between him and the shadowy figure.

Following the feather-crowned elder’s instructions, Garrett opened his mind, and soon, he felt his consciousness joined by a short, rotund creature. This creature had short but powerful forelimbs, clutching something, gnawing with its large front teeth.

Is this… a beaver?

The contract spirit lent to me is a beaver?

Well, that’s very beaver-like…

Garrett silently critiqued as he commanded the ethereal spirit to leap into the old hunchback’s body. The size of the contract spirit was not restricted by physicality, and soon through the ethereal eyes, he saw the patient’s internal situation:

Skin, fat, muscle, blood vessels... too blurry, move closer, clearer vision... the capsule surrounding the tumor...

Elder Brock slightly closed his eyes. Using his own spirituality and the contract spirit as a bridge, he facilitated communication between Garrett and the beaver spirit. This was the so-called "lending to him," as the elder could sever their connection at any moment with just a thought.

Acting as a bridge also had extra benefits. What Garrett saw in the spirit realm, he could also see, but the speed was a bit too fast for the old man to keep up:

What is this?

What is that?

A smooth, fine, intact membrane? The beaver spirit’s view moving along the edge of the membrane? Hmm, the capsule is quite intact, no messy stuff leaking out... That’s a quick round? Still going deeper, what does he want to see?

Suddenly, the spiritual vision brightened as Garrett voluntarily cut off the connection, exiting the spiritual view. He stood surrounded by the crowd, his demeanor calm, full of confidence:

“It can be cured. It’s just a subcutaneous lipoma, just cut it out.”

Hmm, such a simple subcutaneous lipoma, even a county hospital could perform the surgery. The tricky part is the diagnosis; he had seen lipomas that infiltrated the cervical spine, compressing the spinal cord, causing hemiplegia.

So, without a CT or MRI, Garrett wouldn’t dare perform the surgery. The alternative was to use an ethereal form to take a look...

“So… cut it now?”

The old hunchback asked tremulously as he lay on the operating table. Garrett nodded firmly:

“If you think it’s okay, let’s cut it now!”

A subcutaneous lipoma, merely a minor task for dermatology, publishing a paper on this would be laughable. At their hospital, to publish a paper

on a lipoma, it had to be something like a cardiac lipoma, brainstem lipoma, or a massive subperitoneal lipoma...

Prepare the skin, clean, apply local anesthesia, then the surgical knife dances. A long incision was made right in the center of the left back, and the mage’s hand pulled the skin apart.

Garrett had already examined beforehand and was confident. The mage’s hand glided along the outer side of the capsule, pulling, tearing, bluntly separating. Cutting open the lipoma without damaging surrounding muscles and blood vessels, his movements were deft and quick, never hesitating from start to end.

Soon, a huge lipoma, along with its capsule, was lifted out by the mage’s hand.

The tumor was so large, those mage’s hands were three to five sizes larger than a normal palm...

“Who’s going to weigh this? How heavy is this tumor?”

Garrett called out while rinsing. The largest tumor they had removed in general surgery was three kilograms, and rumor had it that dermatology had removed ones over five kilograms. Tsk, if this could break a record, though it would be embarrassing to publish a paper, he could still boast about it with them...

A group of barbarians looked at each other. What, it’s cut and now they even want to weigh it?

Is this the foreign healer’s quirk?

Is this healer truly a servant of the God of Nature, not a necromancer?

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