Arknights: The Holy Son's Leisurely Life — Chapter 81

Chapter 81: The Good Times Have Not Yet Come

The very next day, Lucian’s formal cooperation with Rhodes Island officially commenced.

He certainly had not expected so much to happen on his first day aboard the landship. The sheer volume of events felt as though tens of thousands of words had already been written into the annals of his life.

While Lucian genuinely wanted nothing more than to spend the morning rubbing Amiya’s soft rabbit ears, pressing matters demanded his attention.

He and Amiya made their way to Kal’tsit’s private infirmary. Executor, following his usual stoic routine, was ordered by Lucian to stand guard outside the heavy metal doors like a silent, haloed statue.

Inside the sterile, white-tiled room, Kal’tsit did not waste a single breath on pleasantries. “Let me take some of your blood.”

Lucian did not bother asking for details. He simply took a seat on the examination bed and generously rolled up his sleeve, exposing his arm.

Seeing his unhesitating resolve, Amiya clapped her small hands together in quiet admiration.

Kal’tsit deftly wiped a cold alcohol swab over the crook of Lucian’s arm. “Your blood can clearly neutralize Originium crystals. There is no longer any doubt about that.”

She prepared the needle with practiced, clinical precision. “Currently, we know this reaction is accompanied by severe side effects. Accelerated heart rate, dangerously elevated body temperature, and a violently increased metabolism. It places an immense physiological burden on physically weak individuals. This will be subject to rigorous clinical trials.”

She slid the needle into his vein. As Lucian’s vibrant, unnaturally rich blood began to flow through the clear tubing and into the collection bag, Kal’tsit raised her beautiful, cold eyes to meet his gaze.

“Laterano should possess far more complete data on this. Are you willing to disclose it?”

Lucian offered a casual shrug. “I’ll tell you everything I know. But honestly, you’ve pretty much nailed it already.”

He knew his blood could cure Oripathy, but his knowledge ended there. It was only after a certain chaotic incident that he discovered the Laterano high command had been secretly weaponizing his blood. They had engineered special armaments designed specifically against the Infected, quite literally intending to eliminate the Infected by weaponizing the cure.

The logic was grimly simple. Individuals with higher infection levels reacted far more violently to his blood. Even a tough-as-nails Archosauria warrior like Gavial had been pushed to her absolute limits, repeatedly screaming that she was going to die, that she could not take the burning sensation, that she was going to break.

If one found a way to purify and intensify that exact reaction, making it volatile enough to induce fatal shock, it would become the ultimate biological weapon.

Lucian looked at the Feline doctor. “You can use my blood for your experiments, Kal’tsit. But I am telling you right now, I need to be informed of its exact usage in advance. If you use my blood to manufacture weapons to kill people, do not blame me for turning hostile.”

Before Kal’tsit could even formulate a response, Amiya’s expression shifted into one of absolute, grave seriousness.

“Please rest assured, Brother Lucian.” The young Cautus stepped forward. “I can swear by everything I hold dear that Rhodes Island will never sink to that level. I will stake my very life to prevent such a thing from happening. If we truly become that kind of organization, you can take my life at any time.”

Lucian reached out and gently rubbed the top of the little rabbit’s head. “Little one, don’t always talk about killing and dying so easily.”

Amiya was simply too serious for her own good sometimes, placing an immense, crushing pressure squarely on her own small shoulders.

She squirmed under his hand, whimpering softly that too much head-patting would stunt her growth, a reaction so endearing it only made Lucian want to mess up her hair even more.

It was not just Amiya who felt the need to clarify her stance. The ever-mysterious Kal’tsit spoke up, her voice a flat, steady calm.

Her clear, icy eyes locked onto Lucian. “If the situation demands it, I am entirely capable of performing cruel acts. Your blood is an exceptionally potent material. Therefore, I cannot sit here and guarantee that it will absolutely never be used to take a life.”

She adjusted the flow of the blood bag. “However, I possess a doctor’s pride. Before it ever reaches the point of being ‘necessary,’ I will never use it in a manner that violates the core principles of Rhodes Island. If the day ever comes where I must cross that line, I will offer my own life and character in exchange. Is that acceptable to you?”

Lucian’s eye twitched slightly at the sheer weight of her words. “That is way too heavy, Kal. You are making my skin crawl with all this solemnity.”

Kal’tsit glared at him, thoroughly unamused. “Do not call me by such an absurd nickname.”

Without a shred of warning, she yanked the needle out of his arm and slapped a medical bandage over the puncture wound with unnecessary force, prompting Lucian to let out a loud, exaggerated cry of pain.

Amiya chuckled softly at the display, stepping closer to help Lucian rub his arm. She truly was a good, sweet child that anyone would want to protect.

Kal’tsit merely watched them in silence.

She held the small, warm blood bag in her hands, her gaze turning somewhat complex. A fleeting sense of nostalgia washed over her features, mixed with a quiet, buried sorrow. She let out a breath so soft it was barely a whisper, meant only for herself.

“Even before we go to retrieve the evil spirit, the gears have already begun turning on their own… How can I possibly find an excuse to object now, Theresa.”

“Theresa?” Lucian repeated the unfamiliar name, his curiosity piqued.

Kal’tsit snapped back to reality in an instant.

She turned her back to him, completely hiding her expression as she placed the blood bag into a secure medical cooler. “I have spoken out of turn. Regarding the practical application of your blood, there are a few foundational principles we must clarify first. Amiya, if you would.”

“Ah, right.” Amiya nodded quickly, having also been momentarily distracted by the sudden mention of that name.

She took a few deep breaths, adjusting her posture and her mood before speaking in her formal, professional tone.

“Brother Lucian, I have discussed this extensively with Doctor Kal’tsit. We hope to use your blood to develop a highly specific, targeted medication for Oripathy. The primary goal of this treatment will be to maintain the patient’s infection level, preventing it from rising, and to serve as an emergency stabilizer for critically ill patients.”

Lucian nodded slowly, the pieces clicking into place. “I get it. You plan to hide the actual truth, right?”

It was obvious. Amiya’s wording was incredibly deliberate and subtle.

To put it plainly, Rhodes Island did not want the outside world to know they possessed a complete, absolute cure for Oripathy.

Alleviation and cure were two entirely different concepts.

Across the vast, fractured continent of Terra, there was absolutely no known method to truly cure Oripathy. No matter how advanced a medical institution claimed to be, they could only conduct in-depth research on prevention and suppression. At their absolute best, they could ensure the uninfected remained safe, and that the already Infected did not deteriorate into crystalized corpses.

Kal’tsit spoke up, her voice devoid of emotion. “The entirety of Terra, every single political entity, empire, and mega-corporation, without exception, is built upon the systemic, differential treatment of ordinary citizens and the Infected.”

She turned back around, leaning against the counter. “Whether it is the Ursus Empire persecuting the Infected and exploiting the sick in the mines like disposable livestock, or the Reunion Movement, an extremist Infected organization violently striving for the basic rights of their compatriots. Their very essence, their reasons for existing, are all built upon the fundamental law that ordinary people and the Infected are fundamentally different.”

“Therefore, it is entirely conceivable that the moment something emerges capable of shattering that barrier, the existing world order will violently collapse.”

Kal’tsit made it perfectly clear. Rhodes Island was simply not qualified to trigger such a world-ending model shift.

The current iteration of Rhodes Island would be instantly crushed, unable to survive the resulting torrent of dynastic change and global war.

Performing good deeds without calculating the harsh reality of the world was nothing more than suicidal foolishness. Even if Lucian could miraculously provide an unlimited supply of blood to treat every single Infected person who sought salvation, it would ultimately plunge Terra into an even darker abyss.

Lucian, naturally, understood the gravity of this issue perfectly.

It was the exact reason why, during his tenure as the Holy Son, he had never once entertained the thought of having Laterano openly accept the Infected from across the globe.

Lucian let out a dry, knowing laugh. “Back when I was in Laterano, I actually ran a simulation with a high-ranking general who understood the true scale of military logistics. We debated whether the entirety of Laterano’s armed forces, combined with all our potential geopolitical allies, could win a total world war.”

He had thought about it long before coming here.

If a method for completely curing the Infected was suddenly broadcast to the world, the Oripathy crisis, which had plagued and shaped Terra for thousands of years, would vanish overnight.

All of Terra would be forced into a terrifying new era. The societal upheaval would be far more exaggerated and bloody than any industrial revolution in history.

Naturally, the existing ruling classes and power groups would not just sit back and watch their empires be subverted.

After that reliable Laterano general had deduced the various tactical possibilities and projected the fallout, Lucian had permanently abandoned the idea.

He offered a subtle, humorless smile. “When my general finally gave me the projected casualty figures and the estimated duration of the global conflict, the numbers sounded like a bad joke. Even the Sarkaz’s endless, century-long civil war would look like a minor border dispute in comparison.”

“Indeed.”

Kal’tsit closed her eyes, her expression indifferent to the grim reality she lived in. “The people of Terra all detest the Sarkaz. They view those horned demons as bloodthirsty barbarians who would gladly slaughter their own kind.”

“But they overestimate themselves. The only reason the Sarkaz have the luxury of focusing on endless internal strife is precisely because they lack that fundamental discrimination against the Infected.”

She opened her eyes, staring blankly at the sterile wall. “Every so-called peaceful environment on Terra is built entirely upon the ordinary citizen’s sense of superiority over the Infected. Humans can only feel content when they know there is a class of beings lower and more wretched than themselves.”