Chapter 545 63.A Little Simple Physiology (5k, plus 1/5)

As Robert Killiman walked into the former assembly hall, which had been temporarily requisitioned for use as an autopsy room, he noticed that the icy air was filled with choking black smoke. Compared to them, the extremely strong smell of blood seemed to be less of a concern.

Killeman frowned, he knew that the smoke was a potent disinfectant in the process of transformation. Judging by their external performance, the entire disinfection measure has been carried out to the last step.

Only when the smoke turns into a colorless, odorless white mist will the mortal servants be allowed to enter the place. Until then, the environment would have affected them.

Of course, even if they did want to enter it, that would be when it was no longer used as an autopsy room.

It is worth mentioning that these full sets of disinfection measures are actually theoretical knowledge obtained from a warband called the Purifiers.

After proving effective several times, Killiman introduced it into the Ultramarines and their sub-regiments, requiring it to be used as a general means of disinfection and, in rare cases, as a countermeasure.

"Cellar!" Robert Killiman shouted into the smoke. "Where are you?!"

His words were met with a muffled cough, and the apothecary from the Raven Guard strode through the pitch-black smoke and appeared before his eyes.

He didn't wear a helmet, and his armor was covered in blood. The bottom half of his face wears a makeshift mask made of polymeric material, a rough mask that will not be removed until his severe injuries have recovered to a certain extent.

Several bone nails were nailed to the edges of the mask, holding the slightly frightening medical measure firmly in his face.

His left hand was in slightly better condition than the injury to his face, and it didn't take long for the technical sergeants to fit him with a prosthesis.

Although it was just an old style found out of the warehouse, and he couldn't do any fine work, at least it allowed him to use his left hand to hold some potions and other things, so that he wouldn't face the embarrassing dilemma of being able to use only one hand.

The pharmacist had no problem with this, as he did not have time to cooperate with the technical sergeants in complex nerve adjustments, and second, he could perform dissection work with one hand.

As a member of the association, he still has this confidence.

"Your Excellency." Cellar bowed to Kiliman. "I must remind you that my work is not over."

"I know, that's one of the reasons I'm interrupting you for the time being." Killiman said, pretending not to understand what Sélar meant.

"Your Excellency?"

"I've got you a new helper."

His words made Celar a little confused, and the Raven Guard even looked up at the tall Primordial, only to get an intriguing stare.

At this time, the 'dissection room' contained a total of 422 major autopsies, as well as the remains of thousands of victims. Four hours earlier, Killiman had issued an order to urgently dispatch twenty pharmacists to help.

They were away from the sick for a while, and they came to another place where medical knowledge was in dire need. Celal welcomed them quite well, which was a relief, but it also meant that he was not short of helpers.

Still, he wanted to know what it was that would get Robert Killiman to come and recommend him personally.

Half a second later, he saw a mortal in black robes slowly walk out from behind Kiliman, unobtrusive.

The pharmacist's expression became a little surprised.

"Carlil Lohals." So said the Lord of Maculag. "He'll do your research, Cellar."

With that, he turned and left, leaving a bewildered Celral. Not only that, but the surprise had now even turned to astonishment - he had never seen Robert Killiman so ill-conceived, was it really appropriate to send a mortal here?

However, given the situation they are facing, this may also be normal.

The original body is also a human being, and it is inevitable that mistakes will occur. And if he's right, then this person must have something extraordinary.

Thinking about this, Raven Guard didn't say anything, just turned around. The medical arm reached out from behind him, tossing a human-sized filter mask at Caril.

"Come on, then. Are you a war medic? Or did you ever study at a medical school? ”

"None of them." Carlil said he had put on the heavy filter mask and his voice had become hoarse.

"What?"

"I have not studied in any academy and have never treated anyone, in fact, I am not a doctor, a selal pharmacist."

Celal came up with another conjecture: "So, you're a former soldier?" ”

"I'm not technically a soldier, but I did fight in a few wars."

Celar frowned and stopped, turning to look at the mortal named Karil Lohals.

The latter stood still, unmoved by his slightly cold scrutiny. He just stood quietly, his hands falling naturally, and it seemed as if blood, smoke, or anything else didn't exist to him.

It was only at this time that Celal discovered that he was actually very tall among mortals. Not only that, but there was no black-white divide or pupils in his eyes, it was pure pitch black, which was the hallmark of a Nostramo man.

Throughout the galaxy, only someone from the Eternal Night Star would have such a pair of eyes that cannot see the bright light.

"You're from Nostramo?"

Carlil smiled visibly and nodded, not continuing the conversation.

Celal looked at him deeply, and the doubts in his heart not only did not decrease, but increased, but he was no longer ready to continue asking.

It doesn't make sense.

It was imperative that the autopsy be carried out as soon as possible, and the identity of this person was not his primary concern compared to what they were about to face.

Celal turned and walked to his place of work again, deliberately slowing down, Carlil following close behind. As they went deeper, what was hidden in the black smoke was completely revealed.

Dozens of cold iron platforms were anchored to the floor of the hall, and the iron hooks on which the corpses hung were moved by a transport platform on top of them, and the corpses were suspended and moved with their heads bowed and moved without any respect.

The pharmacists were busy among them like workers, their nails red with blood, and their skulls fluttering above their heads, constantly recording. Anti-gravity blades swallow smoke in and slowly expel it, passively evolving the air.

The porters carefully avoided the cables laid on the ground with corpses or replacement dissecting tools, and struggled to accomplish the task they had been given to them, as they struggled to accomplish the task they had been given.

The white light pierced the black fog at the top of the slaughterhouse, illuminating the vicinity of the iron platform as if it were daylight, but instead of dispelling the terrifying atmosphere, it made it all more gloomy.

If asked, Celal would be bitter about it – he really didn't like it, but it was the best he could find right now.

The medical hall on the Glory of Maculag had been attacked during the recent riots, the power supply was cut off, and the fifteen gates were programmed to be completely locked.

If they wanted to enter, they would have to wait until the technical sergeants and boatmen opened it, but they didn't have time to do that right now. A third of the engines in Marcurag's Flare are in urgent need of repair, and the medical hall will have to wait until power is fully restored.

Celal raised his hand and pointed to an empty iron platform that was a little closer to his place of work.

"You can start working there if you want. I'll ask the servant to find you a set of tools you can use. ”

"I don't think that's necessary, Searlar Apothecary." Carlil said quietly.

He strode towards Celal's place of work, where the remains of a monster with only the upper half of its body remained. Its blood had been emptied and embalmed, and its entire body looked much shriveled out of thin air, but it still looked massive.

It had a large wound in its chest and abdomen, which appeared to have been caused by a surgical saw. The bones and internal organs were taken out one by one and set aside. It is worth mentioning that its face has also been peeled off.

He walked over to the iron platform and began to examine it carefully. Looking at his behavior, Celal couldn't help but frown.

If it were an ordinary mortal, maybe he would have begun to persuade the other party to recognize the reality by now, but.

"Pharmacist Salal, before we get started, I'd like to ask a few questions." Carlil spoke softly, looking intently at the corpse on the platform, his face showing no discomfort.

"Your autopsy report says that you think the existence of this creature is contrary to the most basic physiology, right?"

"Of course." Celal clasped his hands together and replied slowly. "The flesh and blood that make up their bodies come from many different people, men, women, and children, and there are no taboos."

"Take the one in front of you, for example, whose vertebrae may be made up of several men between the ages of thirty and fifty, and some of the muscles in his right forearm are from a teenager."

"If you want me to say, let alone natural birth, even if it is a surgical transformation, the rejection reaction alone is enough for these things to die and live dozens of times."

"But they live—at least they were." Carlil said.

As the words fell, he stretched out his right hand and put his index finger to the corpse's mouth, and before Celal could stop it, he saw a drop of blood gush out of his index finger and into the corpse's mouth.

In the next second, the lifeless corpse began to tremble violently. Its shriveled skin was propped up in a strange sticky sound, its muscles twitching, and its eyeballs frantically trolling in its sockets without warning.

Seeing this, the Raven Guard pulled out a flamming handcuff from his waist without saying a word, and aimed it at Karil.

"Don't shoot yet, pharmacist. Moreover, I'm afraid that the deflagration weapon will affect other people's dissecting materials as well, right? Do you have any other guns? Carlil said without looking back.

The Raven Guard was silent and swapped into another of his inherited blasters, stepped closer, and aimed the muzzle at the back of his head.

The screams intensified, and the pharmacists put down their work and walked towards it. They remained silent and made multiple eye contact with Celal within a few seconds.

Carlil, however, kept his head down, unconcerned about what was going on around him, and focused entirely on the resurrected corpse.

The screaming continued for a total of five minutes before stopping.

"Where am I?" Robert Kiliman asked blankly. It sounded like two dry pieces of wood rubbing against each other.

"You're on the fifth deck of the Macurag, to be exact, the fifth deck of the Macurag, which is the assembly hall for the Ultramarines. ”

The monster with only half of its body left looked left and right, and let out a muffled snort from its throat: "I don't see it, what's the difference between here and the slaughterhouse?" ”

"The difference is that there are no lives to be murdered here. It was temporarily requisitioned and used as an anatomical hall. Carlil patiently began to explain. Do you have more questions? ”

The monster looked at him and shook his head with great difficulty, "No. ”

"So, are you still hungry?"

"I'm not hungry." The monster said, a little surprise on his face. "Actually, I don't think I've ever been so full."

"Do you still have memories of your past?"

"Oh, yes." It says. "But the word memory . It's weird. ”

"Why? Don't you have a memory of the past? ”

It pondered for a moment before giving its own answer in the midst of the dangerous scrutiny around it: "I don't think so, if you look at the definition of memory, my past is only a few confused pictures. They obviously don't deserve to be called memories, do they? ”

"So—what kind of picture is it?"

The monster was silent for a few seconds, and then its throat suddenly rolled up and down, and there was an obvious nausea on its face: "I don't want to say. ”

Carlil smiled, took off his filter, and winked at it, "You ate people." ”

“.”

"Thirty-two, to be exact, do you need me to say more? Like their gender, age, name, or the last words they said before they died? ”

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm the one who feeds you." Carlil said. "In other words, I saved you from the realm of the beast without wisdom and soul. I don't expect you to be grateful for anything from me, but I hope to ask you some questions. ”

This time, the monster pondered for a longer time. The apothecaries from the Ultramarines saw an eerie familiarity in their faceless face in disbelief.

"Well, you ask." Eventually, it says. "But I want you to kill me when you're done."

Carlil raised an eyebrow.

"So, the first question - why?"

"What?"

"Why do you want me to kill you?"

"Because that's not living." The monster spoke clearly. "At least it's very different from my own definition of life, I don't know what kind of creature I am, but I think this life form is unclean and poisonous."

"My mere existence would endanger those who believe in me—nay, Robert Killman. Therefore, I should not live because of reason, public or private. ”

"Do you know the things of faith?"

The monster lifted the muscles on his face and nodded with a smile, and his tone sounded a little emotional.

"Of course I know, after all, that's what I was made of. I can still remember the prayers that led to my birth. They believe in Robert Killeman with all their hearts, and I"

It fell silent again.

"And you eat them all the first moment after birth." Carlil said calmly. "You are an illusory creation, an empty shell fabricated by people's beliefs, and you need something to sustain your existence in the physical realm."

"To do this, your instinct drives you to pounce on the nearest living creature. But even if you eat some more, you're still just an empty shell. To get the intelligence you have now, you need to eat at least tens of thousands of people or some special individuals. ”

"And by that time, I'm afraid you'll have long lost the right to choose."

The monster looked at him blankly, and for a long time, it asked, "Who fabricated me?" ”

Karil didn't answer, just looked at it with pity. The monster stared at him in amazement, its broken half like a broken puppet in the light of the white light.

After a few seconds, it lowered its head as if in realization.

A flash of silver light shook the air and cut off a head.

Cellar's face changed suddenly, he didn't even see how the knife appeared in Carlil's hand, and how he swung it out, smoothly killing the monster that had come back from the dead.

In his astonishment, he even faintly felt the urge to pull the trigger immediately.

However, the idea was barely conceived when the magazine of the blaster suddenly fell to the ground. Immediately after, the bolt that was pulled back to the closed state with a bang, and finally the insurance,

Cellar watched as its two safety lines were spontaneously shut down, and the Raven insignia at the muzzle of the gun looked so terrifying at the moment.

Carlil turned, glanced at the gun, and suddenly smiled.

"Alastor Rorschach's gun is interesting. Goodbye, then, Sylar Apothecary, and all of you, I'm sorry to have caused you trouble. ”

"Where are you going?" Celal blurted out.

"Go back and report to Master Robert Killriman what I just discovered, or not?" Carlil said, bending down to pick up the magazine and handing it to Celral.

"You—" The pharmacist took a deep breath, steadied himself, and reached out to take the magazine. "—I have a few questions for you, too."

"Why do you think I'll answer?" Carlil asked.

He looked at him with a smirk, and naturally showed a strange pleasure that had never been revealed ten thousand years ago.

(End of chapter)