Endless Abyss, despite being a sprawling city, was chaotic and disorganized to its core. For a human to walk alone outside was to flirt with peril.
Accompanied by Warehouse Ghost and Train Master, Charles arrived on Happy Street in the heart of the Endless Abyss. The signage for the Demon Clinic immediately caught their eyes; after all, it was the only clinic on this street.
Standing outside, Charles glanced at the Demon Clinic. He watched as a beast man dragged the bisected corpse of some unidentifiable creature towards an adjacent operating room.
Blood trailed across the floor in a morbid streak.
The shrill buzz of a chainsaw soon emanated from within the operating room.
"We can only accompany you this far. If you're set on entering the Demon Clinic, tread cautiously. Juwel is a frightful character, one with an oddly fickle temper," warned Warehouse Ghost.
Unperturbed, Charles waved to Warehouse Ghost and Train Master and headed towards the clinic.
A solitary oil lamp hung above the entrance, illuminating a decrepit sign beside it.
Upon entering, Charles was greeted by the dim lighting, scattered bits of indescribable flesh, and splotches of blood, all conspiring to produce an overpowering stench.
As he walked further, it felt like his steps were not on the floor but on some sort of slippery fat.
Approaching the operating room, the eerie sounds of slicing and dicing continued unabated.
Charles knew better than to disturb Juwel at work. He didn't want to be the next one splayed on the operating table.
So, he waited quietly outside the operating room.
Footsteps emerged from within. Charles, standing at the door, greeted them with a smile.
"Hello, are you hiring any doctors here?" Charles made no mention of his actual intention to potions.
"We don't need doctors, only apprentices. No pay. Make a mistake, and you'll become a specimen," Juwel responded in a raspy voice.
"No problem. My name is Charles, and I hold a Ph.D. in psychiatry," Charles maintained his smile.
Juwel pulled out a blood-stained white coat, wrote the number "5005" on the back, and tossed it at Charles.
"You sound promising. You're hired. I hope you last a while here," Juwel looked at Charles, his face twisted into a strange smile.
At that moment, Charles heard the system's notification sound again.
[Congratulations on successfully reaching the Endless Abyss, but don't get too excited. The real journey has only just begun.]
[Task]: Pass Juwel's Test
[Description]: You've become the 5005th apprentice doctor at the Demon Clinic. Now, you must fulfill the responsibilities of a doctor and ensure you survive here.
Just then, Juwel tossed over a black garbage bag. "What a waste to throw this rotten flesh away. Feed it to the 'little sweetheart' in the basement. And make it quick."
Charles promptly picked up the black bag, its contents emanating a pungent, metallic stench that suggested it might contain the flesh Juwel had been dissecting.
Charles headed to the basement, pushed open a metal door, and was immediately met by an overpowering, nauseating smell—like a blend of rotting flesh and excrement.
"Hiss—hiss—" A series of eerie sounds emanated from behind the metal door.
Charles realized that the creature referred to as the 'little sweetheart' must be housed within. What exactly it was, only Juwel knew.
Charles tossed the black garbage bag directly inside.
Roar— Roar—
A series of anguished, furious roars erupted from behind the pitch-black metal door, accompanied by an overwhelming wave of bloodlust.
Charles promptly closed the metal door and exited the basement.
After feeding the little sweetheart, Charles saw Juwel dragging a sack toward the door, something—or someone—inside struggling violently.
"Charles, good timing. I need to step out for a bit but will be back shortly. While I'm gone, take care of the clinic for me. Lock up at night. If customers come, you're responsible for attending to them. Shouldn't be a problem, right?"
Charles nodded, a sickly gleam of excitement flashing across his face. Compared to Earth, the native creatures of this world were horrifying, but to Charles, that meant little.
His nearly manic obsession with "curing patients" had made him one of Earth's finest psychiatrists.
[Ding! Juwel has given you a task: Watch over the clinic.]
[Task Reward: Experience +90, Special Bonus +1]
[Failure Penalty: You will become Juwel's specimen No. 5005.]
Charles eyed Juwel's towering frame, his pupils gradually turning red, he accessed some information.
[Juwel]
[Race: Beast Man]
[Level: ???]
[Disposition: Lawful Evil]
[Combat Ability: Do not attempt to provoke him unless you wish to become a specimen.]
[Description]: Owner of the Demon Clinic on Happy Street. Specializes in various types of surgery, but also frequently concocts some "interesting" potions...
A tremor of anticipation surged through Charles, but he maintained a composed facade. Weren't these "interesting" potions precisely what he was after?
"Boss, is there anything in particular I should be aware of while you're gone?" Charles inquired.
Juwel hoisted the sack onto his back, answering in his gravelly voice:
"Remember this. No matter who asks you to perform medical services outside, ignore them. At night, lock the door, close the windows. Kill anyone who enters, and ignore any calls for help."
Charles nodded, taking Juwel's words to heart.
And so, under Charles' watchful gaze, the imposing figure of Juwel pushed open the door and left the Demon Clinic.
After Juwel had left, Charles looked around the clinic, his brows gradually furrowing.
"This clinic is just too dirty; it's unacceptable! Since I'm temporarily in charge of managing this place, I cannot tolerate such filth!"
Charles promptly located a mop in a corner and began a thorough cleaning. As an exemplary doctor, he placed great emphasis on the patient experience.
The cornerstone of that experience was, of course, maintaining the cleanliness of the clinic. He wanted patients to feel like they were "walking into their own home" upon entering.
Thanks to Charles's diligent efforts, it didn't take long to clean up the coagulated blood and bits of flesh. The original white tiles reemerged, accompanied by a faint smell of disinfectant in the air—simply perfect.
Squeak...
Suddenly, the sound of the door opening broke the silence.
Charles hastily donned his blood-stained white coat and turned toward the door.
What he saw was a mass of indistinct flesh and blood, struggling to squeeze itself inside. The creature's movements were awkward, requiring great effort to finally make its way in. It wriggled its swollen head, surveying the surroundings, seemingly searching for something.
The twisted patient before him resembled a grotesque, mutated tumor more than anything else.
Then, the creature spoke, its hoarse voice resembling the discordant sound of some dilapidated instrument.
"Is this the Demon Clinic? I'm not feeling well. Could you take a look at me?"