A Hospital in Another World? Chapter 998: Garrett, Do You Want Me to Name Your Research Institute?
Previously on A Hospital in Another World?...
With the opinions of two Archmages backing him, Garrett no longer protested when the research institute was completed, and he saw the prisoners of war being brought in tied up. He just stood at the door, alternately using the Life Observation Spell and the Detection Spell, pointing and gesturing:
"This one is sick, send them to that row of houses."
"This one is about to die, send them to the third row of houses."
"This one is normal."
"This one... is too high level? Knights and above will interfere with the experimental results! Take them over there!"
"Hey! Don't hit them! Injuring them will affect the experimental results! No hitting!"
"This one... hmm?"
This one seems to be a clergyman?
Should he be isolated? Or should his spellcasting ability be disabled? Praying and healing will also interfere with the experimental results...
Garrett was busy giving instructions. On the other side of the door, Lynn was holding a notebook, scribbling down notes continuously. At his feet, Mr. Troka was curled up in a ball, now much fatter than before...Diego was bound with a thick rope, taking one step after another towards the entrance of the research institute. Stopping under the shouts of the native warriors, ten men in a line, he awaited his fate:
Was he going to die?
Would he die today?
The one-eyed Ober had died in that battle, killed by a native warrior wielding a stone axe;
Gold-Tooth Pablo had died, struck by a fireball that fell from the sky, burning to a crisp on the spot;
The fool Donato had also died, always shrieking, waving his steel sword, and the first to jump onto other people's ships to slaughter, he had fled into the jungle in panic and stepped on a snake. When they pulled him up, he was already done for...
From the captain to the sailors, only ten or so out of fifty or sixty people survived on their ship, including Diego, and they were all shoved into underground cells by the natives.
A few days later, their captain, first mate, and boatswain were dragged out. The strongest three on their ship...
They never returned.
The ship's carpenter, who could speak a few words of the native language, tentatively asked the guard what happened. The answer was, "They were sacrificed to the gods!"
"Sacrificed?"
"They were eaten by the gods!" The guard grinned, his rotten black and yellow teeth looking especially ghastly in the flickering torchlight:
"They were offered to the gods—dragged to the top of the pyramid, one slice, and their chests were cut open." He gestured at his chest, a malicious smile on his face:
"The heart was dug out, the head chopped off, the skull smashed open to reveal the brain. The blood mixed with corn cakes to make offerings to the gods... Don't worry, your turn will come in a few days!"
In the cell, some people fainted on the spot, some went mad with rage, and some banged their heads against the wall... preferring to die in the cell rather than in the mouth of an evil god!
Being eaten by an evil god meant they couldn't ascend to heaven or return to the side of the Radiant Lord!
However, Diego did not seek death.
Not because he thought someone would rescue him, nor did he expect any miracles. It was because he had a brother!
His poor brother Donato, two years younger and physically weaker. Since childhood, he had followed Diego, herding sheep, collecting firewood, and fighting with other boys, never backing down even when beaten to a pulp...
Later, they boarded a ship together, came to the New World together, and became pirates together. They followed the captain to the Eagle God's Kingdom and fled together after a defeat.
His brother lost an arm, bled, couldn't fight for food, but didn't die—since his brother didn't die, Diego couldn't die either!
There were seventeen or eighteen others in the cell who didn't seek death either. After being imprisoned for day after day, they were finally dragged out, ten of them strung together, stumbling towards the outskirts of the city.
After two days of arduous trekking, they began an even tougher climb. Though the weather wasn't hot, the sun was scorching, blistering Diego's face and body. Some areas even developed blisters.
Fortunately, the guards were somewhat kind-hearted, or at least aimed to keep them alive. They would stop by a stream to let them drink, then continue, and stop again, tossing each a corn cake.
If they walked too slowly, they were scolded, kicked, and whipped, but not beaten to death...
Diego supported his brother, giving him water and corn cakes, pulling him up when he stumbled. The imprisonment and strenuous trek made Donato's arm swell worse, and he began to fever and ramble.
Often, Diego had to drag him, trying not to hurt his brother's broken arm. Hopefully, things would be better once they reached their destination. If they hadn't killed them before, they wouldn't kill them now...
Stumbling and struggling, up and down hills, they finally reached their destination. Someone pointed and picked a few people, while another warrior stood by, raising a stone knife—
Slash!
Slash!
Slash!
The knife severed the ropes connecting ten people. Some were taken to the left, some to the right. Donato was picked out and pointed to the side—
"Donato! Donato!"
Diego lunged forward, only to be kicked down by a warrior, who stepped on him. Suddenly, the one who picked Donato said "Hmm," and beckoned:
A white light fell. Donato's groaning stopped immediately, and his fevered face slightly eased. Diego sighed in relief, then felt a chill:
A heretic!
A heretic spellcaster!
A heretic demon!
Before he could react, Donato was dragged up and pushed in front of the heretic spellcaster. The spellcaster squinted slightly, glanced up and down, then waved his finger—
Then Donato was pushed back to Diego, joining five or six others, and they were all shoved into a dark passage.
"You! You! You! Get in!"
"You! Get in!"
They were pushed one by one or in groups of three or five into different rooms. This time, the brothers were roughly separated, placed in adjacent rooms. Just before the iron door closed, Diego lunged at it, shaking it forcefully:
"Donato! Donato! How are you? What will they do to my brother?"
"I'm fine!"
After a moment, his brother's shout came through the thick walls:
"They put me in a separate room... There's a native next door, but he's separated by iron bars, he can't reach me..."
Diego breathed a sigh of relief. Then he had the mind to look around:
In this room, there was also a native, chained in a corner of straw, his face burning red, looking very weak. In front of the straw was a water jar and a shallow clay bowl.
In the corner, a wooden bucket, possibly for waste?
There was no barrier or obstruction between them, just a step away.
"You! Feed him water! Feed him food! Take care of him!" With a clang, a small window at the bottom of the iron door opened, pushing in two unadorned clay pots. One contained water, the other a mix of corn and pumpkin porridge, barely enough for two people.
With another clang, the small window closed and locked, and outside, someone shouted loudly:
"If he dies, you die! If he lives, you live!"
???
Putting us together to take care of the native?
If so, why make us trek so far from the city? Wouldn't it be better to find a place near the city?
Diego was completely puzzled. But with his and his brother's lives at stake, he obediently rolled up his sleeves and got to work. Feeding the native water and food, wiping his forehead with straw dipped in water to prevent him from burning to death...
Different situations occurred in different houses among the various prisoners of war. Some were isolated from the sick natives by iron bars, with a constant breeze blowing from the natives to the prisoners;
Some were locked together with the sick natives;
Some were isolated alone in airtight rooms, filled with the clothes and excrement of natives;
Some were injected with the blood of sick natives—newly feverish; fever abated; feverish again, severely ill, even vomiting blood; or gradually recovering;
Some were separated by iron bars from the sick natives, with a breeze blowing from the prisoners to the natives, and insects, fleas, bugs, or lice quietly introduced into the room...
Each project had at least five groups, up to ten. Level 1-2 professionals, Level 3-4 professionals, knights and above, and rare spellcasters. Members of the Radiant Church, native prisoners of war captured from the mountains, all included.
Garrett designed the experiments as comprehensively as possible. After all, he wasn't short of prisoners, was he?
"No wonder you could develop vaccines for chickenpox and rabies." Archmage Haines observed Garrett's research methods up close for the first time, marveling:
"Your experimental designs are so comprehensive, I can't think of a better way—by the way, what do you plan to do with these prisoners after the experiments?"
"Of course, I'll cure them!" Garrett answered without hesitation:
"It's already excessive to use them for experiments. After infecting them, they must be cured! Hmm... after curing them... I can't send them back. It would be too strange to sacrifice fully recovered people to the gods!"
"That works, there are plenty of other experiments to do in the future anyway." Archmage Haines nodded ind
ifferently. Then he laughed:
"By the way, have you thought of a name for this research institute?"
"Huh?"
Garrett hadn't thought about it. A research institute? In the entire Eagle God's Kingdom, and even the entire New World, wasn't this the only one? Did it even need a name?
In the future, when people talked about "the New World Research Institute" or "the Tropical Infectious Diseases Research Institute," they should be referring to this one! Naming it to differentiate would be for future institutes!
"Haven't thought about it? How about I name it for you?" Archmage Haines joked. Garrett looked at him warily:
What name do you want to give it?
Black Crow Swamp Research Institute?
Plague Research Institute?
No, I won't agree to such names!
"Look, your research institute has already saved so many people." Archmage Haines casually suggested:
"Why not call it 'Umbrella Research Institute'?"
Garrett: !!!
Archmage, do you want to doom the entire Eagle God's Kingdom?!
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