In the corridor between the treatment room and the common rest area, an impromptu trial was underway.
The other medics cast wary glances at the petite [222], their gazes behind raven masks a mixture of complicated emotions.
No one questioned the accusation that [176] had "stolen a treatment method." In fact, it seemed entirely plausible.
Treatment methods, or techniques, were more than mere procedures—they were blueprints for performing miracles.
Unlike combat mages, healers and creators didn't rely on split-second execution in the heat of battle. Their miracles could afford slower, more methodical casting. Combat mages, on the other hand, had no such luxury; enemies would exploit any delay to obliterate them mid-cast.
For healers and creators, miracles were broken down into numerous steps, which, when combined, formed the full miracle. These steps were techniques.
To learn the techniques was to inch closer to mastering the miracle itself.
Naturally, techniques were considered invaluable intellectual property. Any mage who developed a new technique could rake in astronomical licensing fees simply by granting others the rights to study it. Such royalties were enough to afford treatments from the Four Great Research Institutes, extending their lifespan by another decade.
This explained why Ash always woke up to find only one medic in the treatment room—no one else was allowed to observe treatments, to prevent intellectual theft.
[222] turned her gaze to [201]. "Did the professor send you?"
"I'm a graduate student under your elder sister. She is my boss," [201] replied cautiously, careful not to reveal any names. "The warden of Lakebreak is a friend of hers... but she instructed me not to disturb you unless absolutely necessary. This individual's blatant attempt to steal the institute's property crossed the line, which is why I've come forward now."
"So now that my identity is exposed, do I have to leave?"
[201] smiled deferentially. "Miss, surely you jest. Every participant in the 'Blood Embrace Ceremony' at Lakebreak comes from one of the research institutes' preparatory bloodlines. No one would dare betray you. No one could."
The other medics bowed deeply to signal their respect.
They had no choice.
There were 36 research institutes across the Bloodmoon Dominion: 24 minor institutes, 8 mid-tier, and the 4 Great Institutes.
Most of the medics present came from minor institutes, destined to become preparatory bloodlines at best. Meanwhile, [222] belonged to the Bloodcry Institute, one of the Four Greats, marking her as a new bloodline member.
The gap in status between them was as vast as heaven and earth.
For these medics, successfully completing the Blood Embrace Ceremony might grant them golden bloodline status, extending their lifespan by 200 years, but they would likely remain limited to the two-wing rank.
In contrast, new bloodlines from the Four Great Institutes were practically guaranteed sanctuary bloodline status, with 500-year lifespans. Some even ascended to legendary bloodline status, living a millennium or more!
Their baseline was the three-wing sanctuary rank. Ascending to the four-wing legendary rank was common, and a select few might even reach into the realm of gods, becoming demigod apostles of the Bloodmoon Dominion.
"What should we do with this filth?" [201] asked deferentially.
[222] was silent for a moment, her gaze settling on [176].
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
[176] raised his fish-like head, his large, blood-red eyes gleaming with a familiar light.
"How dare you!"
[201] growled, popping a vein in the foam collar wrapped around [176]'s neck.
The fishman trembled, his pale face turning ashen.
"I refuse to accept this."
"What exactly do you refuse to accept?"
"I refuse to accept that you get to join Bloodcry while I'm stuck in a minor institute."
[176] bared his sharp teeth, his voice trembling with fury. "I was the pride of my people! I deserve to be part of the highest bloodlines too! So why is there such a gap in resources between us?"
"I refuse to accept that you're handed opportunities I had to fight tooth and nail for. I refuse to accept that techniques I can only dream of are mere trivia to you. I refuse to accept that the best experimental subjects are assigned to you, while I'm stuck with scraps.
"But what I refuse most of all is your talent!"
[176] growled, his voice breaking. "I can't stand the thought of you surpassing me! I can't!"
"What a thoroughly irredeemable piece of trash," [201] sneered, popping another vein in the foam collar. This time, [176] nearly collapsed.
"His drivel isn't worth hearing. Miss, how would you like to deal with him?"
[201] hesitated before adding, "The standard punishment would be immediate execution."
[222] stared at the trembling figure of [176] for a long time before speaking.
"He hasn't annoyed me enough to make me want him dead. But if he were to die, I wouldn't care either."
"So your decision is..."
"Find a soft club shaped like a geoduck and beat him until he's covered in welts. No medical treatment. Then throw him into the sea tonight. He's a blue-scaled fishman, right? The sharks shouldn't kill him. Let him swim back on his own."
[201] froze in surprise. "But, Miss—"
"This is my decision." [222] cut him off, her crimson eyes locking on his. "If you disagree, feel free to handle it your way. I don't mind."
"That wasn't my intent," [201] said quickly, bowing deeply. "Your will shall be done."
"Good. I'm heading back to rest."
[222] strode away, her pace brisk as though escaping the suffocating atmosphere.
She had nearly reached her quarters when heavy footsteps followed her.
At her door, she turned to find [201] standing behind her.
"Is there something else?"
"Since I've already disturbed you, I figured I might as well offer some... reminders," [201] said cautiously.
"Go on."
"I've noticed you've been spending quite a bit of time alone with the inmates in the treatment room. Of course, there's no issue with this. No one would dare use such a rule against you. I'm not here to warn you."
He paused before continuing.
"If not for the Human Rights Association and the Species Equality Council, we wouldn't even need to pretend to be medics to conduct the ceremony. Those rules are just a shield against trouble. But Miss, you don't need to worry about trouble."
Every word dripped with subservience.
"My only concern is that you might develop unnecessary attachments to the test subjects, delaying your Blood Embrace Ceremony. If your progress falters, my superior will hold me accountable."
[222] shook her head. "I haven't forgotten the ceremony. Don't worry."
She paused before adding, "Every inmate I've treated has been implanted with a Blood Embrace Seed. Once they die in the trial, the seeds will absorb their knowledge and spirit power, converting it all into my Source Blood."
Stepping into her quarters, she removed her raven mask, revealing a pair of violent, blood-red eyes that gleamed like those of a predator.
"We of the Blood Saint Clan," she said, her voice cold and sharp, "do not grow attached to our bread."