The door opened.
There was no fated encounter.
Only a stench so foul it felt like it could flip a person’s skull open.
"Ugh—!"
Victor let out a physiological dry heave, stomach acid surging to the back of his throat.
It wasn't just the smell of rot.
It was like a mixture of aged sewer biogas, fermented blood, and spoiled formalin.
Standing at the doorway was a mountain of flesh.
Two and a half meters tall.
It blocked the entire doorway, completely blotting out the moonlight.
"Roar..."
The abomination lowered its head to look at the tiny human before it, letting out wheezing breaths like a broken bellows.
Its skin was a purplish-blue, covered in coarse black sutures. Some of the threads had snapped, leaving wounds that hung open like infants' mouths, oozing yellowish-green pus.
The most shocking sight was its abdomen.
It had been sliced open, and a length of grayish-white intestine hung out half-dead, its end trailing on the ground, covered in mud and withered leaves.
"So this is... my patient?"
Victor pinched his nose tightly, his brow furrowing deeply.
In his vision, the system interface flashed red frantically.
【Warning! High-risk pathogen source detected!】
【Patient file generating...】
【Race: Low-tier stitched corpse puppet (Failure)】
【Status: Extremely manic, hungry, severe infection】
【Symptoms: Generalized skin laxity, multi-organ displacement (prolapsed intestines), cognitive impairment.】
【Recommendation: Perform immediate debridement, organ repositioning, and full-body reconstructive surgery.】
"Phew..."
As he read the diagnostic information, the disgust in Victor's eyes gradually faded.
In its place was a nearly cold, professional scrutiny.
It was an occupational habit.
It was also the forced calmness brought by the system.
At this moment, the thing before him was no longer a man-eating monster, but a tattered human specimen in urgent need of repair.
"Hungry..."
The stitched corpse puppet didn't realize the change in the human's gaze.
It only saw food.
Fresh, steaming human flesh and blood.
It raised its right hand, which was larger than Victor's head. Its pitch-black claws whistled through the air as they swung down fiercely.
If this strike landed, Victor would surely burst like a watermelon.
"Don't move!"
A sharp shout suddenly exploded.
There was no magical ripple, no glow of battle qi.
But these two simple words carried some kind of irresistible power of rules, slamming into the stitched corpse puppet's chaotic brain.
Its movement froze.
The claws hung ten centimeters above Victor's head, unable to descend no matter how hard it tried.
For the first time, "confusion" appeared in the monster's cloudy eyes.
What was happening?
Why didn't this tiny thing run?
Why did its non-beating heart feel like it wanted to kneel and tremble upon hearing his voice?
"Look at the state of you! It’s an absolute insult to medicine!"
Victor didn't care about the claws above his head at all.
He took a step forward, disdainfully using a piece of gauze to pick at a snapped thread on the monster.
"Who taught you this stitch work? How can you sew a cross-stitch so crooked? And placing the knot directly over the wound?"
"Are you worried it won't fester fast enough?"
Victor began a rapid-fire critique.
"And this piece of skin! This is clearly skin from the inner thigh. Why is it sewn onto the shoulder? Don't you know this area requires high elasticity? No wonder the stitches snapped the moment you raised your arm!"
The stitched corpse puppet was stunned.
In its entire life—including its days as a monster after death—it had never been scolded like this.
It wanted to roar; it wanted to stuff this human into its mouth.
But the bloodstained lab coat Victor wore seemed to radiate a suffocating pressure at this moment.
It was the absolute suppression of a superior over an inferior.
It was the natural dominance of a doctor over a patient.
In the monster's eyes, an unspeakable god of death seemed to stand behind the human, holding a gleaming scalpel and coldly staring at every piece of its flesh.
"Whimper..."
A pathetic whimper came from the monster's throat.
Its claws retracted, and its massive body instinctively curled inward.
It was afraid.
A fear that originated from the depths of its soul.
"Don't act pitiful."
Victor wasn't buying it.
He pointed to the mud-covered intestine on the ground, his tone as stern as if he were lecturing a puppy that had relieved itself in the wrong place.
"Look at the floor! Those are your intestines! You're just dragging them around everywhere?"
"Don't you know that bacterial infection leads to sepsis? Even though you're already dead, you can't waste your body like this!"
"Pick it up!"
Victor suddenly raised his voice.
The stitched corpse puppet shuddered, nearly jumping.
It looked at the intestines on the ground, then at Victor’s frost-cold face.
Then, it performed an action that utterly violated a monster's dignity.
It leaned down and used its murderous claws to carefully, clumsily scoop up the intestines.
Like a child caught in the act of breaking a vase, holding the pieces in its hands.
"Follow me in."
Victor turned and walked toward the clinic without even looking back, completely exposing his back to the monster.
"If you dare to dirty my floor, I'll cut out your other kidney, too."
The stitched corpse puppet froze at the door.
Run?
Instinct told it that it should turn and run back into the deep mountains and forests.
But...
The man's voice had magic.
It was a 【Medical Order】.
In this clinic, the doctor's word was law, an unchallengeable truth.
The abomination held its intestines and took heavy, plodding steps, moving into the doorway one step at a time.
Clang!
The door locked automatically.
The clinic was well-lit, the shadowless lamps hitting the white tiles and reflecting a piercing light.
To the stitched corpse puppet accustomed to darkness, this was practically an interrogation room.
"Lay down."
Victor was scrubbing his hands frantically at the sink.
He gestured with his chin toward the solitary stainless steel operating table in the center of the room.
The abomination looked at the narrow, hard table.
It shook its head, letting out a low growl of resistance.
The table was too small, and the leather buckles on it looked very ominous.
"You don't want to lie down?"
Victor dried his hands and turned around.
He wore a standard professional fake smile, but there was no warmth in his eyes.
"Since you're here to see a doctor, you have to follow the doctor's orders. Patients who don't cooperate with treatment usually meet very grim ends."
He walked toward the equipment stand.
A menacing heavy-duty chainsaw lay there quietly.
Its teeth were covered in rust, the handle wrapped in blackened tape, and it radiated a heart-pounding scent of blood.
Victor gripped the saw's handle.
His movements were elegant and composed, as if he were holding a glass of fine wine.
"Vroom—"
He pulled the starter cord.
The engine sputtered twice.
The stitched corpse puppet’s pupils shrank.
It recognized this sound!
The mad alchemists who had stitched it together back then had used tools like this!
It was the most terrifying shadow in the depths of its soul.
"VROOOOM—!!!"
On the third pull, the chainsaw let out an ear-splitting roar.
Blue-black exhaust puffed out as the teeth spun frantically, turning into a blurred shadow.
The air was filled with the smell of machine oil and the aura of slaughter.
Victor approached step by step, carrying the roaring chainsaw.
"I'll say it one last time."
He raised the chainsaw, its tip nearly poking the abomination’s nose.
The fierce wind blew the monster's rotten hair into a mess.
He shouted over the noise, his tone dripping with impatience:
"Either lie down yourself, or I'll saw you in half and then put you up there! Choose one!"
The stitched corpse puppet broke.
Its psychological defense collapsed entirely.
How was this a doctor? This was clearly a butcher more terrifying than any demon!
"Whimper, whimper!"
It let out a piteous cry for mercy.
Holding its intestines, it clumsily climbed onto the small operating table, trying its best to tuck its limbs in.
It even proactively grabbed the restraint straps, wanting to tie itself down to prove its obedience.
As long as it wasn't sawn in half, it would do anything!
"That’s more like it."
Victor nodded in satisfaction and eased off the throttle.
The engine dropped to a low, throaty idle.
He skillfully buckled the straps, firmly securing the mountain of flesh.
【Patient in position.】
【Detection: No anesthetic in stock...】
Victor looked at the "No Anesthesia" on the panel, then at the shivering stitched corpse puppet.
He shrugged, revealing a "merciful" smile.
"Uh, sorry about that. The clinic just opened, and we’re out of anesthesia."
Vroom—!
The chainsaw roared to its maximum speed once more.
Victor raised the saw and aimed it at the monster's festering belly:
"It might hurt a bit, but it’s for your own good!"
"Just bear with it, it'll be over soon!"
Rate on N.U.
