The weather anomalies caused by the Ouroboros lasted a full week and took an additional week to clean up. A soft quarantine was imposed during this time for government officials to inspect every household for ‘foreign mana contamination.’

The reason for this examination was naturally the large quantity of myths and agents that had used the resulting spatial anomalies to sneak into Olympia and its surroundings. Trouble was brewing in the capital city, and even demigods were unable to account for all possibilities.

Sorin’s problems were far less troublesome than rooting calamities before they occurred. That said, his current patient pushed the boundaries of what Sorin could tolerate due to his list of frustrating behavioral quirks, his appalling personal hygiene, and his overconfidence in his own medical expertise.

Sadly, there wasn’t much Sorin could do about it, so he let the man talked and tried to guide the conversation in a suitable direction.

“This Entrancing Fly Trap has been the crown jewel of my garden for many decades,” boasted the corpulent, three-chinned man with red-faced enthusiasm. “Just look at its leaves. Look at the teeth it has. I feed it a hundred pounds of three-star demon meat every week to ensure that it’s always in pristine condition.”

Sorin smiled despite his annoyance. “Yes, I heard much about it from Mrs. Philips. She couldn’t stop talking about the thing. Mr. Clockmaker, it’s clear to me that you’re a man of impeccable taste. Your discerning eye exceeds that of most physicians.”

“A merchant can never be too careful,” said Mr. Clockmaker, brushing off the compliment. “You can’t believe how rude some physicians are, chasing me out of their offices after telling me this—” He pulled back his sleeve to reveal a pustule the size of Sorin’s fist, “is harmless and benign.”

Sorin quickly scanned the mass and confirmed that the diagnosis was correct. Though filled with high level corruption, the pustule was actually a skin condition that was unable to penetrate deeper into his body due to the man’s questionably hollow Flesh-Sanctification cultivation realm.

“Some have even advocated that I simply chop it off,” said the man with disdain. “As if I’d risk the contamination leaking to other parts of my body. They say the risk is negligible, but that’s just a relative term. They can’t even give me a percentage so I can make an informed decision.”

Sorin nodded understandingly but was inwardly cursed the man. Even a novice three-star physician would be able to diagnose this issue and treat it. Hell, even a two-star physician should be able to handle it with almost no chance of complications.

“Would you mind sharing your idea of a reasonable risk tolerance?” asked Sorin. “There are several treatment options that can be pursued depending on the answer.”

“Well, um, I’m not really sure,” said Mr. Clockamker. “I supposed I’d have to hear the diagnosis and recommended treatment options.”

Sorin had seen his type before. He was a patient that didn’t know what he wanted and was frightened for no apparent reason. And since most doctors figured it was benign, he simultaneously didn’t want to risk complications but knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this pustule was a deadly problem that had to be dealt with.

“There is a small chance that such a pustule would threaten your life,” said Sorin, stretching the truth to gain his trust. “In certain situations, your immune system might be compromised. Should the pustule rupture during said conditions, I’d say there’s a ten percent chance that a portion of the corruption enters your bloodstream.”

Then there would be a further 1 percent chance that such corruption would be fatal. That’s not even mentioning that there are only two conditions that might enable this: pernicious mana regeneration atrophy syndrome, a rare, genetically influenced disease that is highly unlikely to cause problems to a cultivator of his calibre, and congenital mana deprivation induced immunodeficiency, something that’s impossible to develop post-birth.

“I knew it!” said the man. “Those crooked physicians thought they could simply shoo me off, but I knew they were up to something.”

“Treating this pustule with absolutely zero risk is extremely difficult,” confessed Sorin. “I only recently gained an ability that could excise such a mass with zero risk of contamination, and I’m a God Seed. One specializing in medical treatment.”

“Just, so, just so,” said the man. “Now when you say zero risk, do you really mean zero risk?”

Sorin’s read on the man was that he wouldn’t believe such an assessment. “Zero risk is naturally impossible,” he confessed. “But don’t let that get you down. Instead, think about the benefits of excising this mass.

“Firstly, there’s the cosmetic impact of such an ugly thing. Do any of your competitors have such a mass on their bodies?” He channeled Jealousy into the man. Just a smidgeon. Nothing harmful.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Also, don’t you dislike how it looks on a personal level?” Hatred was a natural ally of jealousy, so it was easy to combine both forms of corruption to create a desirable effect.

“Finally, who’s to say if there are no undetectable risks that all of the physicians attempting to treat you have yet to discover?” A small dose of Madness fanned the flames fear in the man’s quirky mind, finally tipping the scales.

Mr. Clockmaker was now covered in a thin layer of sweat. “Indeed, that’s something I never considered. Only…”

“Only you don’t want to lose your prized possession,” finished Sorin. “The same possession you used to secure so many visits.” He pretty sure the man was using these visits with physicians to show off the rare plant, much like one would go around showing off rare and exotic pets. “I understand and I completely empathize. I would never seek to deprive you of such a prime specimen.”

“Then…”

“Just a small branch,” said Sorin. “I’m interested in the venom secreted in the branches but I only have a passing interest. Should I determine that this venom is useful, I would naturally seek you out. We could negotiate a long-term supply agreement suitable for such a rare and exotic specimen without overly damaging it.

With the cost having been dramatically reduced and his fear maximized, the man consented to receiving treatment. “Please, make it painless.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Sorin.

The treatment that followed was more show than substance. Sorin stuck 36 needles into his arm to numb it when only one was needed, then channeled an absurd amount of mana into excision when less than a percentage of his total would have sufficed. Dead gods, even a simple scalpel would have sufficed.

He then poured a full ten drops of three-star healing solution onto the resulting wound when none was necessary, leaving the man’s skin a flush baby pink that contrasted his tanned arms. It would give him something to show off for the foreseeable future.

Finally, all that was left was harvesting the branch. The plant bit down on Sorin’s finger, injecting him with a secondary dose of venom that he gladly absorbed. The man left his office in a happy mood, and Sorin was happy to have added another three-star poison to his repertoire. He immediately produced a vial of the venom to hand it over to Mordecai for analysis.

“You used corruption on that man.” Sorin finished cleaning the patient bed before turning to the speaker, Gareth.

“Only a tiny dose, Gareth, largely to get him to accept treatment,” said Sorin dismissively. “I settled for a tiny payment and saved other skilled doctors hours of labor better spent on serious patients.”

Gareth pursed his lips. “Maybe it’s only a tiny nudge now, but what about the next case? And the case after that? Your corruption is acting up again, and it’s only been two weeks since you managed to return to a balanced state.”

Sorin frowned but didn’t contradict Gareth. He was annoyed with his friend pointing out the flaws in his very reasonable mental state. Then again, that was the problem. He hadn’t spotted Azrakul’s influence the first time around. His friends were a more reliable gauge when it came to matters of his own mental corruption.

“Understood,” said Sorin. “My corruption is becoming a problem again. I’ll be meeting with Mordecai later to see if there’s any headway on producing higher tier poisons. If I succeed, I should be able to balance out the divinity and corruption in my body, at least in the short term.”

Gareth nodded. “Thank you for taking my counsel seriously, Sorin. It makes my job easier.” He then took out two items. The first was a sealed vial containing a small amount of crystalized Hatred. “I managed to secure this crystal after a huge amount of paperwork. Officially, I’m using it to try tracking down Agents of Hatred using resonance techniques.”

Sorin snatched the vial and inspected it. “This should be enough to cure Lorimer’s condition. Thank you for going through the trouble.”

“It’s not a problem,” said Gareth. “Lorimer is also a part of our team. As for the second vial, would you mind inspecting the crystals inside it?”

Sorin took his time with the next vial and carefully unscrewed its stopper. Two golden crystals lay inside it, one smaller and one larger.

“This one,” said Sorin, pointing to the smaller crystal. “Is an incomplete divine crystal purified by the Temple of Hope. This one,” he said, pointing to the larger crystal. “Is the same crystal I gave you before. It’s pure divinity, untainted by whatever the Temple of Hope does to them.

“I take it you put both of them through all sorts of trials and analyses and found nothing?”

“It was a huge gauntlet of tests,” confirmed Gareth. “Both crystals passed the tests with flying colors.”

Sorin chuckled. “But you’ve figured something out.”

“Indeed,” said Gareth. “Take a look at what happens when I use a tiny bit of my heroic ability.” He held the crystal in one hand and directed a gust of white wind to blow overtop it. At first, nothing happened, but soon, tiny streams of white smoke evaporated from the small crystals and were blown away by the wind.

“It’s almost imperceptible,” continued Gareth. “I’m also unable to fully extract whatever is coming out of the crystal without crushing it.”

“Your conclusion?” asked Sorin.

“The crystals are tainted,” said Gareth. “With what, I don’t know. I was hoping you could shed light on this.”

Sorin shrugged. “I honestly have no idea, Gareth. All I know is that whatever it is, it’s poisonous. Beyond that, I have no more information. Does that mean you approve of me purifying divine crystals?”

Gareth nodded. “But only for our personal usage. I was originally happy that my supervisor took my questions about contamination from temple purified crystals seriously, but then he started asking some very specific questions that made me uncomfortable.”

“Hm…” Sorin had a feeling they knew what the contamination was but were keeping it secret. Either that, or it was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, and they wanted to avoid mass panic. “I guess that means our ability to generate income using this method will be limited. Well, it doesn’t matter. For the time being, I have a steady stream of patients. They’re troublesome cases, but well-paying ones. Daphne sure doesn’t mess around when it comes to debts and obligations.”

“Indeed,” said Gareth. “She might have changed since coming to Olympia, but she’s still reliable in her odd, quirky way.”

“Unlike Aster,” said Sorin. “Honestly, I’m getting a little worried about how she’s been shutting herself up in her personal library and writing on the walls.”

Gareth shrugged. “She’s a member of the Order of Phantasia, Sorin. They’re all more than a little crazy.”