The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 222 - The Fairy Cuts, Pulls, Needles, And Sutures Like A Pro; The Ogre Wants To Rip A Face Off Like ’It’ Happened Yesterday

Chapter 222: Chapter 222 - The Fairy Cuts, Pulls, Needles, And Sutures Like A Pro; The Ogre Wants To Rip A Face Off Like ’It’ Happened Yesterday

With that inexplicable draw warring with the healer’s clear hostility, the woman decided she didn’t understand what was going on enough to do anything more than wait. Both sensations felt like echoes of something she *should* remember but couldn’t quite grasp.

It wasn’t the first time in her life this had happened, but it was one of the strongest.

Footsteps in the hallway made Elua’s hands move from over her patient. Through the fragment of her Qat, she felt her beloved’s continued ’concern’ well before she appeared in the doorway. The leather bundle from that box was held carefully tucked in her arm.

Behind her, the curved blade wielder shifted as if to follow her further in. The swordswoman turned smoothly to give the woman a warning look... creating a barrier between that familiar face and her wife despite not knowing the situation.

"The tools, please. And... keep her out there with you."

Qatrand caught the barely hidden tremor in that voice. The fragment in her chest churned with complex emotions from the ancient cultivator that she couldn’t fully parse - ’rage’ and ’grief’ tangled with something darker. Her gaze moved between Elua and the woman who seemed unable to step away.

"Of course."

The bundle exchanged hands and Elua immediately began laying out the implements on a clean cloth. Each dark piece caught the available lantern light with their different shapes, showing off the restricted material to the medics watching. Stilled breaths were the best sign that they understood what they were looking at.

"Everyone who isn’t actively helping also needs to leave. Now."

Her words carried no room for argument as she began securing the important tourniquets. Most of the observers began filing out at different rates, though the senior medic hesitated the most.

"These injuries require experienced-"

"Experience I doubt you have and tools that if you did would have been here first. Stay or go, but do not question me unless you are willing to be responsible for my inaction."

The man’s mouth snapped shut at her tone. They could hear the Yecine’s low voice also firmly directing the curved blade wielder away from the door as requested. The woman’s insistent but calm protests faded gradually down the hall.

’If both families are involved, then at least we will not be blamed for what happens.’

As he excused himself, Elua’s fingers distractedly traced the items Qat brought. She fought to steady herself. The face on that person might be the same, but this wasn’t her traitorous disciple. This wasn’t the one who had...

"Focus."

The word came out barely above a whisper as she rallied her attention back to the wounded cultivator. She had a task to complete. One her fortress would want done properly... or else there would have been no point getting involved at all.

"The two of you remaining, listen carefully."

The ancient cultivator kept her lecturing voice steady as she rearranged her surgical tools in the specific order that she felt she would need them. Her fingers selected the scalpel and held it with experience as she informed them of the problem.

"These shards have torn deep into muscle tissue and one into bone. You all know normal extraction would be complicated. The natural physical energy response in a cultivator patient makes things worse for a healer, not better."

Where traditional surgical implements would have to fight against a cultivator’s reinforced viscera, these would slide through with *unsettling* ease. They allowed those ’weaker’ to operate - even allowed mortals to do it.

She gestured to the only two medics that had chosen to stay. Fortunately, both were older and both were First Echelon Primalists. They would have no trouble with her orders.

"When I tell you to hold him still, do not let him move even slightly. The body’s response to trauma needs to be controlled, not encouraged."

Neither questioned how someone so young knew to use such specialized tools. Her clinical tone and the way light seemed to avoid the implements made such concerns feel inappropriate. They simply nodded and moved to assist.

"This will hurt. Someone make sure he doesn’t thrash."

The first incision drew a sharp hiss from their patient. Elua’s hands remained perfectly steady as she worked, each motion calculated to minimize trauma. She even used her Astralism to fool his pain sense just a bit. Enough so that he would not overreact despite her cautious orders to her ’witnesses’.

Metal chunks of the shattered blade emerged one by one. The Negavigor implements didn’t just cut - their very proximity temporarily suppressed the physical energy that would have made the operation nearly impossible. The surging energy would have hastened healing over the objects during the trauma, ironically making them harder to pull out.

She’d only had to pause to suture a large vein once in the whole process. In that regard, he was lucky. As lucky as one with high speed shrapnel entering their body could be.

When the final piece came free, the troublesome one lodged in his clavicle, she set it aside with the others on clean cloth. She intended to examine them later to learn what happened. Her fingers traced the wounds again, this time checking that the physical energy flows would resume properly once the tools’ influence faded.

Satisfied, she began the careful process of closing each remaining incision.

"He’ll need rest, but there shouldn’t be any lasting damage. The muscle will heal cleanly now that it’s not trying to seal around those shards."

The medics stared at her work with barely concealed wonder. The neat sutures and precise cuts looked nothing like battlefield medicine. There had also been no dallying between each action, as if following a plan laid out ahead of time. There was no way not to see it as the work of someone with extensive experience treating cultivator injuries.

"How did you-"

"Books. I’ve read a few. Knowledge is useful. Now let me clean these tools. They’re... particular about their maintenance."

Her dismissive words about her experience contrasted with the methodical way she began wiping down each implement. The surfaces seemed to drink in the sanitizing solution she pulled from her case because of how it evaporated. A cleaner that didn’t damage the special coating - the liquid itself was as specialized as the tools and arguably as expensive.

’It’s amusing to think that I’m cleaning what used to be known primarily as poison for cultivators... with what would be poison for mortals to ingest. Though to be fair, there are lots of things that they shouldn’t eat that we can convert to energy with careful attention.’

As she rubbed them down and tried to keep herself from thinking about those waiting outside, one of the medics lingered wanting to ask more questions. His attention kept drifting to the neat row of numbered markings visible along each handle. Before he could work up the courage to speak, Elua’s voice cut through his thoughts.

"You should go tell the judges about his condition. They’ll need to adjust the brackets accordingly and make an announcement to the crowd."

The clear dismissal left no room for argument, but she doubled down anyway because she wasn’t feeling generous enough to let him try. He was getting in the way of making things beneficial for her Qat.

"The peace of mind of the masses won’t wait. Go."

The door closed behind him and her movements became slower. Each tool had its specific place in the leather bundle. Nestled in compartments lined with fabric designed to prevent direct contact between pieces and prevent them scratching each other.

Only after everything was properly stored did she allow her tense shoulders to relax. The competition would have continued even without what she did. The ’masses’ would worry no matter what. They were just reminded of what happened in real combat and what the real upcoming stakes were.

"Excuse me."

The Goltbred heiress turned her head to the patient on the table. She was surprised he hadn’t chosen to speak yet after she released her hold on his pain receptors. Especially since she could tell her was still lucid afterward. She supposed he had been in his own head as much as she was hers.

"Thank you."

She nodded in response. At least now this cultivator would be back to ’capable’ during the Descent.

’Getting hurt in practice and being unable to defend his loved ones would hurt anyone’s pride forever.’

As for her semi-publicly exposed tools... the accident merely provided an opportunity to use them well - good publicity.

’Everything is fine. Except for that person out there still being firmly held at bay.’

A ghost of her usual sweet smile returned as she heard Qat’s low voice still firmly redirecting someone in the hallway. Her fortress had taken the task of keeping that particular face away quite seriously. She almost regretted not going out and watching it all happen.

Karis slipped through the doorway as she finished gathering her supplies. His spirit carried equal parts curiosity and gratitude after hearing the passing medic say things went well. Of course, he seemed uncertain how to express either to the younger girl.

The atmosphere around his friend’s treatment made him hesitant to even *try* speaking first to the fierce and pretty brunette.

"He’ll recover fully, but not in time for any exhibition matches. Probably about a week."

Her voice carried detachment tinged with just enough warmth to be polite. Compared to what he heard before, it was like night and day. Elua pulled something from the bundle and held it up in the air. A certain kind of brooch made by a certain secret sigilist.

It would probably bother people as much as the tools themselves, in a different way...

’If they knew I had a half dozen of these stored in the bundle, they might think that my father was a fool who spends too much on his daughter. Well, he is and does.’

Standing in their private viewing area and with eyes watching toward the place his daughter was doing *something*... Ondua suddenly felt the back of his left ear itching and burning like crazy. It was enough reason to go take a look!