Steampunk Era: Mad Abield

As the bullet was extracted from Madame Cassan’s abdomen and tossed into a dish, Malin finally let out a sigh of relief. To tell the truth, even with the help of spell formations, Malin had never found the work as strenuous as today. The bullet had shattered several sections of intestines, and Malin had no choice but to simultaneously sustain Madame Cassan’s life with a spell while painstakingly feeling for the bullet at the bottom of the abdominal cavity—if it weren’t for the detection using Spiritual Energy, Malin felt the task would have been impossible.

Fortunately, Madame Cassan was lucky. In this world, there were wonderful things like spell formations and Spiritual Energy to aid doctors.

The boy’s complexion looked rather bad, but he did not shy away. Instead, he watched strongly as Malin sewed the intestines with needle and thread, washed the abdominal cavity with a World Tree fruit concoction, and then treated the sutures with a Healing Spell. By the time the abdominal cavity was closed, the light in Old Ferrero’s eyes was nearly blinding.

"The biggest mistake of my life was not taking you as my Apprentice," lamented the elder elf.

Malin pulled up the blanket over Madame Cassan and asked the boy to fetch the Punisher so that they could carry the lady into the infirmary—the Church had its own small healing facility where patients like her, who no longer needed further treatment, could stay without having to be transferred to the larger hospital of the Benevolent Church.

After taking care of everything, Malin patted the elderly elf on the shoulder: "I think you have a fine new Apprentice, with a temperament like mine."

"But he’s still too green, not like you... But what can I say, I understand that keeping you by my side would have been an underuse of your talents for this world," Old and young cleared the way for the Punishers to come in, watching as they carried Madame Cassan away. Malin removed his surgical gloves, then his temporary surgical gown, and then helped Old Ferrero out of his.

"What’s this boy’s name?" Malin inquired.

"Karl Marlon." With Malin’s help, Old Ferrero took off his surgical gown and smilingly reached out to ruffle little Karl’s head: "Although he’s not quite like you, Malin, this boy is still the one and only Karl, my Apprentice, destined to inherit my mantle."

Malin smiled and patted the boy’s cheek: "Learn well from Mr. Old Ferrero."

Little Karl nodded happily—apprentices at the Carterburg Goddess of Harvest Church these days all grew up listening to stories of Malin, so naturally, the boy recognized him, looking very happy with the encouragement from the Legendary sir.