Arknights: The Prophet of Penguin Logistics — Chapter 96

Chapter 96: Resurrection

Silence adjusted her glasses, her golden eyes narrowing as she peered past the tall Sarkaz medic. “…Um, Miss Shining.”

Shining paused mid-sentence, her expression tightening with mild dissatisfaction at the interruption just as she was about to rattle off a dense list of surgical precautions. Silence ignored the look and pointed a slender finger toward the massive, fluid-filled containment tank dominating the center of the laboratory.

“My eyesight might be failing me. I have been exhausted from traveling lately, after all. But no matter how I look at it, it seems the person inside that tank has opened his eyes and is watching us.”

Shining turned her head, her pale hair shifting as her gaze locked instantly with a pair of blank, bewildered eyes suspended in the pale green medical fluid.

Lynn, who had been clinically judged to be in a deep comatose state, had somehow clawed his way back to consciousness. He floated there, a broken, flayed humanoid figure tethered to life by dozens of thick, translucent tubes piercing his ruined flesh. Through the distortion of the thick glass, he observed the shocked expressions of the assembled medical elite. Slowly, agonizingly, the ruined figure attempted to lift a hand to wave, his facial muscles twitching in a phantom effort to smile.

The gesture failed. The movement tugged on far too many exposed nerve endings and torn muscle fibers. Lynn’s throat bobbed in a weak swallowing motion instead. His eyes, wide and stark within their bruised sockets, darted between the unfamiliar faces beyond the glass, radiating a deep confusion regarding both his audience and his own mutilated state.

Abandoning her clipboard, Shining strode swiftly to the corner of the observation deck and snatched up the heavy intercom microphone. A moment later, her calm, slightly muffled voice echoed through the fluid-filled chamber.

“Prophet? Please do not move. I am Shining. Can you hear me?”

Suspended in the viscous liquid, the man stared at the dozens of clinical eyes boring into him from the other side of the glass. With excruciating slowness, he managed a stiff, jerky nod.

In this sterile environment, the concept of modesty had long been discarded. Stripping a trauma patient bare was standard operating procedure, and Lynn was no exception. Despite the intense scrutiny, he attempted to adopt a relaxed posture, raising a mangled finger to indicate he was listening.

But the simple movement was a gruesome spectacle. As he shifted, the doctors outside could clearly see his exposed internal organs sliding and shifting within his torn abdominal cavity. It was a visceral, heart-stopping sight that challenged the sensory limits of even the most hardened medics. Several veteran surgeons in the room instinctively twitched, their hands rising as if to reach through the glass and manually realign the displaced viscera.

Trapped behind inches of reinforced glass and submerged in the murky green fluid, Lynn could feel the heavy, eager stares of the medical staff pressing down on him, stirring a deep sense of unease. He was no fool. The sheer horror on their faces told him enough about his condition. He needed to communicate, and quickly. Fighting through the sluggish resistance of the fluid, he tapped his throat, gesturing his desperate need to speak.

Shining caught the movement and nodded in immediate understanding.

“I am having a laryngeal communicator deployed into the tank right now,” Shining instructed, her voice steady and reassuring over the speakers. “You will be able to speak directly through the device. If you feel any sudden discomfort, or if you notice any changes in your sensory perception, tell us immediately.”

Soaking in the nutrient bath, Lynn gave a strained, vigorous nod.

A mechanical whir echoed from the top of the tank. A specialized delivery pipe descended through the fluid, carrying a sleek, metallic collar. Guided by an automated robotic arm controlled from the surgical console, the strange device handled the tangled web of life-support tubes and clamped securely around Lynn’s throat. The cold metal pressed against his ruined flesh, linking his vocal cords to the external audio system. After a brief sound check, Lynn looked at the crowd of specialists and gave a final nod.

‘Thank you all for coming. I am Lynn, your patient.’The electronic voice that filled the room was flat, metallic, and entirely devoid of human warmth, yet the dry humor in the words was unmistakable.’If it is all the same to you, I would rather not spend the rest of my life marinating in a pickle jar. I am counting on your expertise. I imagine my current physical condition is absolutely terrible, right?’

“It is unimaginably terrible,” Shining replied softly, a heavy sigh escaping her lips as she gazed at the ruined man. “I was just about to brief the surgical team on the extent of the damage. Over seventy percent of your external skin tissue has been eradicated. Forty percent of your muscle mass is simply gone. Your subcutaneous fat layer has been entirely excavated, leaving only a marginal amount of visceral fat to lubricate your internal systems. Multiple major organs have sustained catastrophic damage. From a purely clinical standpoint, you can barely be classified as alive.”

She paused, her golden eyes reflecting the grim reality of the monitors. “, the internal architecture of your body presents severe anomalies. Attempting to use Originium Arts to force cellular regeneration could trigger disastrous consequences. Your current physiological state is far too fragile. Your bloodstream is saturated with unknown viral strains and foreign biological colonies. Your organ positioning is severely distorted, and your nerve pathways have tangled into a chaotic, unnatural web. Your digestive tract and metabolic energy consumption are entirely out of balance. To be blunt, the structural integrity of your body is grotesque. If we rashly apply healing Arts without a complete understanding of these mutations, the unpredictable rejection reactions could destroy what little remains of you.”

Shining rested a hand against the glass. “, until we can fully map and assess your altered biology, we cannot risk using Originium Arts to accelerate your restoration. We must rely on traditional surgical intervention, which is why I have assembled—”

‘Then use Originium Arts to save me, Doctor Shining.’Lynn’s synthetic voice cut through the room, sharp and desperate. He pressed his mangled hand against the glass, leaving a smear of biomedical fluid against the pane.’Do not worry about the risks. Use your Arts to heal me as quickly as possible. I am begging you.'”I cannot do that. Your condition is incredibly unstable,” Shining argued, her usual calm fracturing slightly. “Your biology has deviated entirely from a normal human baseline. If I force Originium Arts into your system now, the shock alone could kill you. You have foreign biological colonies and unidentified organ structures actively maintaining your life support. We do not even know what you are right now—”‘I am already a flayed corpse floating in a jar,’Lynn interrupted, the mechanical modulator failing to mask the raw hysteria bleeding into his words.’So rolling the dice on Originium Arts hardly matters, does it? Do you have any idea what kind of agony I am enduring right now? Every single second? Will the Arts kill me outright?'”It… it likely would not be immediately fatal,” Shining admitted, her brow furrowing. “But the cellular rejection reactions could be horrific…”‘I will take those odds.’Lynn stared directly into Shining’s eyes, his synthetic tone dropping into a chillingly absolute register.’I am absolutely certain. I am drowning in extreme, unadulterated agony every minute I am awake. My raw nerves are completely exposed to this chemical liquid. Every current, every breath, every heartbeat feels like a medieval torture method. I am surrounded by the most elite medical minds on the planet. Using Originium Arts to stitch me together while simultaneously keeping my heart beating shouldn’t be too difficult for this room, right?’

“…There will certainly be unmatched difficulties,” Shining murmured, her grip tightening on the microphone. “But we will try our best if you truly demand it.”

Silence stared at the ruined humanoid figure trembling violently within the suspension fluid. She took a deep, steadying breath and stepped out from the crowd of hesitant surgeons, her voice low and resolute.

“I know exactly how much agony exposed nerves can cause. It is a blinding, all-consuming pain that no standard analgesic can suppress. If you truly need this, I cannot speak for the rest of this room, but I will prep the surgical theater for you immediately.”

“Doctor Silence,” an older medic hissed from the back. “What you are proposing is highly irresponsible to the patient—”

‘Thank you, Doctor,’Lynn’s mechanical voice cut off the protest.’Please begin the procedure. I cannot wait another second.’He watched Silence step up to the console, then shifted his gaze back to Shining, whose expression had tightened into a complex knot of dread and pity.’If you force me to continue existing in this agony… you might as well just drain the tank and kill me. Right now, it feels as though countless insects are burrowing into my exposed flesh and gnawing on my bones. Please. Do it.’

“Rather than a standard medical treatment, it would be far more accurate to classify this as a biological modification,” Silence declared, her golden eyes sweeping over the room of paralyzed, hesitant doctors. She adjusted her glasses, her expression hardening into absolute, unwavering confidence. “However, Rhine Lab accepts this task.”