Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1302 A New Species (Second Update)

"I hope the spare organ is ready, Mary."

"It's all ready. These are all spare organs carefully selected by Ms. Maya Hansen from the incubation chamber." So many years have passed, and High Priestess Mary of the Sora Red Forest Druid Order remains the same blonde girl with thick-rimmed glasses, but arduous labor and extensive knowledge have shed the restlessness brought on by excessive hormones, transforming her into a calm, composed, intellectual, and loyal individual—the kind of person the Emperor needs. Not everyone within the Order can endure such a secluded and monotonous life. After all, the Order had declined, and only a minority were truly willing to dedicate themselves fully to the path of arcane magic. Therefore, Mary had to personally execute the traitors before issuing the order. "We have experimented with the samples left behind by Supilulius. Your design is outstanding; the alchemy contained within the cells of the Royal Guard allows the spare organs to become their own true organs."

The emperor nodded, meaning to shut up.

Mary shut her mouth.

She had spoken too much, and much of what she said was information the Emperor already knew. She knew that if she couldn't control her adoration, the Emperor would remove her from her current position, for He didn't need someone so impulsive. "I need you to monitor Supiluliumas's vital signs, Mary." The High Priestess of the Sora Red Forest Druid Order looked up, seeing the Emperor's weary eyes behind the transparent goggles. The receiver of the sterilized automated surgical microscope was embedded in the eyepiece, and the precise brass gears were coated with antiseptic ointment as lubricant. "Of everyone present, only you can become Supiluliumas's anesthesiologist."

"I will," Mary nodded. "The meningoesthesia is ready; I just need to calculate some data."

"Finish before my cleaning procedures are complete," the Emperor said. "Until then, I'll provide the blood plasma for the surgery."

Stephen Strange was shoved into a surgical gown, and under the guidance of a flight attendant in heavy protective gear, he swiped his hands and put on rubber gloves. At this moment, he truly began to tense up. His palms throbbed with pain, his mind went blank, and the knowledge he had been forced to read on the plane was completely forgotten. He had never witnessed a surgical scene like this before, especially now that he was wearing a protective suit, separated from the world by a lens—it felt like a dream.

A pure white machine with hundreds of tiny claws was moved above the operating table by a robotic arm. Next to this behemoth was a computed tomography (CT) imaging instrument, and on the other side was an industrial cutting instrument that continuously spewed out thin streams of high-temperature plasma heat, and there was a smell of burning metal in the air.

He didn't understand the function and operation of these machines, nor did he know how he should plan the surgery.

Perhaps he knows, but he can't remember right now.

Everything seemed enormous; even the operating table was taller than him, making him look like a dwarf who had wandered into a land of giants. Or worse, he thought of his early days at medical school. During his first dissection, he had been reprimanded for his slowness and nervousness, his hands trembling just as badly as they were now.

The surgery had already begun, but only one person was performing it.

Stephen Strange watched as the Emperor, clad in surgical scrubs, skillfully manipulated a scalpel to separate skin and muscle, draining accumulated blood. After setting down the scalpel, he operated hundreds of slender metal limbs to precisely cauterize bleeding points and suture tiny blood vessels. Then, he retrieved new tissue from a nearby box to begin the next round of grafting. The Emperor's movements were rapid; every few seconds he would drop the scalpel to operate the machinery, his actions more precise and steady than any surgeon in the world. Simultaneously, he had to monitor various data displayed on another screen: blood oxygen levels, drug concentrations, and so on. This data was incredibly detailed; hundreds upon hundreds of data points flowed like a waterfall across the black screen, and even misreading numbers after the decimal point could cause serious trouble.

Dozens of tubes delivering blood, medication, and oxygen were connected to the massive human body on the operating table. Blood and oxygen were mixed outside the body and then reintroduced. Apart from these things, Stephen Strange didn't recognize any of them. He didn't recognize the excessively thick bone plates on the screen, nor the several small organs he had never seen before beneath the liver, and he had no idea what the extra layers of skin he had were for.

The smell of blood in the air had the odor of copper and iron.

"What should I do?" he managed to squeeze out a sentence from his dry throat. "I can't even hold a scalpel properly."

"Do what you're supposed to do." The Emperor's voice came from behind his mask, and those dark eyes brought Stephen Strange to his senses. His surgical gown was stained with blood, and seeing Stephen Strange still standing there dumbfounded, the Emperor's tone became stern. "I won't use Supilulius's life to help you grow. You need to prove your worth now." He kicked the stool at his feet. "Stand here, hands on the levers. Focus on everything you see. I need your assistance as I stitch up the nerves; I can't do this alone."

Stephen Strange blinked hard.

As his hand touched the control lever of the surgical instrument, he recalled the documents he had read on the data panel. His first task was to repair an internal organ nerve, but the nervous system he saw was not a simple vegetative nervous system. The large ganglia contained an extremely complex design. Stephen Strange was certain that this ganglion did not exist in the human body, so he guessed that this might mean that the person lying on the operating table had the ability to control the movement of this internal organ, and that the brain could sense the workings of the internal organ.

In the course of evolution measured in billions of years, complex organs mean greater energy consumption, which in turn means more food, and more food means greater survival pressure. The sheer size of the brain alone consumes a vast amount of energy in humans, leaving no surplus energy to evolve such unconventional organs, nor the time for trial-and-error evolution. These never-before-seen organs and tissues perform functions unnecessary for ordinary people, yet a surgeon can appreciate this beauty—the complex functions that nature needs much longer to develop.

"That's amazing." He recalled the information he'd seen about the organ on the data panel, yet even the text hadn't described its function. "This organ is connected to the stomach, what's its purpose?"

"Filtering toxins and breaking down the genome," the Emperor said without looking up. "It will allow the Royal Guard to adapt to the harshest living conditions and maintain their fighting capacity. Stop asking questions; just do what you know. Mary, make sure there are enough meningeal anesthesias; this surgery will take at least twelve hours."

No one knew what happened after the Emperor and the Royal Guard entered through the silver stone door. No one knew the whereabouts of the Yasok clan, much less what kind of enemy Supiluliumas, with his unparalleled fighting skills and sturdy armor, had encountered to fall into such a near-death situation. The Emperor did not answer Stephen Strange's questions about the details of Supiluliumas's injury; he resolutely refused to reveal any useful information. Stephen Strange, realizing he had made a fool of himself, also fell silent and focused on his work.

He was completely unaware that his hands were able to control extremely sophisticated surgical equipment.

When Wanda Maximoff and Laura Crawford's aircraft landed on the helipad of the Kamar-Taj Himalayan headquarters, a warden, a member of the royal guard, took over the task from the accompanying knights. His heavy red and black battle robes were covered in snow powder. Laura Crawford had never been to this place before; she only learned that Kamar-Taj was located in the Himalayas as she approached her destination. Nevertheless, she was awestruck by the beauty of the snow-covered valley, where the eternally spring-like scenery seemed just a step away from the towering snow-capped peaks, as if an invisible barrier kept them at bay.

Mordo returned dejectedly with the other exhausted sorcerers in another plane. The sorcerer Hamil approached him and said something, after which Mordo walked back to his room along the path.

"My lord has returned." The warden seemed to sense Wanda Maximov's question and offered the information. "But he has no time to see you or anyone else right now."

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(End of this chapter)