An F-Rank Veterinarian Physically Heals an S-Rank Magical Beast - Chapter 50

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 50
“Hey there, Namgoong Family Head! I said don’t twist the third vertebral line! Do you have any idea how much that cooling system costs?”
12th Floor AI Empire Ruins. Beneath an ashen sky stretched a landscape that resembled nothing so much as a colossal scrapyard—or rather, a scene of brutal labor exploitation. The masters of the Murim Alliance, once commanders of the realm, now crouched and squirmed, wielding short blades instead of screwdrivers, flattening metal plates with their fists instead of hammers.
“Alliance Leader… no, you cursed Alliance Leader! This old man’s back is about to snap! How am I supposed to unscrew bolts using Sword Force when I’m the greatest swordsman under heaven!”
Namgoong Cheon bellowed as sweat poured down his face. Precariously balanced on the tip of his legendary blade, Heavenly Thunder Sword, was a Phillips head screwdriver bit.
“Your back can wait—I’ll give you a Great Restoration Pill later. For now, that sensor in your hands is irreplaceable. If you scratch it, forget the pill; you won’t even get water. That single component is worth a year’s budget for the entire Namgoong Family. You prepared to take responsibility if you break it?”
I stood with arms crossed, surveying the worksite with the gaze of a hawk. These people had become my precious “free labor force” and “resource collection drones.”
Meals? Replaced by internal cultivation training.
Wages? Settled by saving their lives.
Four major insurances? As if such things existed.
The Murim Alliance was a place where workplace injuries were never properly processed.
My mental calculator hummed with delight.
‘Labor costs: zero. Material costs: zero. Profit margin: 100%. This is the true creative economy.’
At that moment, a woman hiding behind a barrier to avoid the dust of the worksite furrowed her brow sharply. It was Beris, the librarian of the 7th Floor Abyss Library. She gazed upon the workshop with eyes that might have been observing filth itself.
“Jin-hyuk, you’re absolutely the worst. You’re really going to collect all these filthy scraps? Look at the grease and metal shavings buried there. I can feel the bacteria swarming from here. Ugh, it’s revolting.”
She pinched her nose with her white silk-gloved hand and used her staff to flick away a half-disassembled robot arm that had rolled to her feet. For someone with her obsessive cleanliness, this place reeking of oil was nothing short of hell.
“Beris, this is all money. And if you want that library system upgrade you’ve been dreaming about, components like these are essential. You said you wanted to build a quantum server and implement an e-book system, didn’t you?”
“Hmph. If even a speck of dust from those scrap metals gets into my library, your membership is revoked that very day. And sterilize it three times—no, five times before bringing it in. If it’s not clean room level, it’s not getting past the entrance.”
Beside the sharp-tongued Beris, a silver-haired elf girl approached with sparkling eyes. It was Luna. Though she had been born a slave in the Eastern Abyss Region, her brilliant mind and unparalleled knowledge of herbalism had earned her recruitment as a valued talent.
“Master… no, Jin-hyuk! Look at this!”
Luna pointed to the interior of the robot’s torn-open chest cavity. Her slender fingers traced through the complex circuitry.
“This machine’s power transmission circuit is 90% identical to the water vein structure of the World Tree. And this oil flowing through it isn’t simple lubricant—it’s synthetic sap with high mana conductivity. If we refine it, we can use it as high-grade potion material! And that chipset embedded there—its arrangement matches ancient Elvish rune characters perfectly!”
“Ah, there’s Luna for you. Quick as a whip. A completely different dimension from those brutes smashing things mindlessly.”
I stroked Luna’s head with satisfaction. If the Murim Alliance Leader Wi Cheon-myung—currently serving as site foreman—heard this while wrestling with a robot head screaming “Why won’t this blasted skull come off!”, he’d cough up blood. But what did it matter? Efficiency was everything.
“Well then, we’ve gathered our materials. Shall we get down to the real work?”
My eyes gleamed with avarice—no, with the fervor of great creation.
Collected components towered in mountainous heaps. S-rank titanium alloy, quantum computing cores, self-repairing nanomachines. And the highly concentrated mana sap that Luna had refined. Converted to currency, this was enough to easily construct several buildings in Gangnam.
“Everyone step back. From here on, this is the ‘realm of the divine.'”
I took my place before the workbench with solemn determination. Not as the Murim Alliance Leader, but as the maestro.
[Activating Skill: Mechanical Medicine!]
Zing—!
Blue mana sparks erupted from my fingertips. It was my unique hidden skill alone—the fusion of mechanical engineering’s precision with the art of healing that breathed life into machines.
“Luna, connect the mana circuits. Beris, stop whining about it being dirty and use telekinesis to hold that steady. Hold it tight! Don’t let the spine bend!”
“Ugh… seriously. If that mana even brushes my clothes later, I’m incinerating them on the spot.”
Beris grimaced and levitated the components into the air. My hands danced. I reconnected severed neural networks, implanted artificial muscle fibers strand by strand, and embedded a nuclear fusion reactor as the heart.
“Namgoong Family Head! Don’t just stand there watching—come inject some inner force! We need to blend the machine with qi! The essence of the Nine Schools must be infused to create a masterpiece!”
“You cursed Alliance Leader… the things you make people do. What sins did I commit in my past life to deserve this….”
Grumbling despite himself, Namgoong Cheon placed his hand on the robot’s lower dantian and injected his true qi. The inner force of the Murim’s greatest master began flowing through cold metal veins.
Whooooom—!
Crash! At last, a colossal form took shape upon the workbench. Two meters tall. A body of absolute black matte finish. Shoulders broad and imposing, thighs like steel pillars. A face concealed beneath a sleek visor, unreadable in expression—the very image of a “slaughter weapon” that would make the Empire tremble.
“Finally… the finishing touch.”
I retrieved the Genesis Prime—the highest-grade AI chip I’d essentially stolen from the Empire’s main server.
“Once this goes in, he’ll gain consciousness. The birth of my most powerful bodyguard, absolutely obedient to my commands.”
Click. The moment the chip inserted, steam hissed from the robot’s entire body with a sharp whistle.
[System boot complete.]
[Registering creator ‘Kang Jin-hyuk’ as Master.]
[Rank elevated to ‘Legendary’.]
“Activate.”
At my command, the robot’s visor blazed with crimson light.
“Systems nominal. Consciousness formation complete. Master recognized.”
A deep, resonant voice. An overwhelming pressure that reverberated through the space. The surrounding martial artists swallowed hard. My lips stretched into a grin that threatened to split my face.
“Excellent. Absolutely magnificent. Your name is….”
I paused deliberately. Guardian? Titan? Too common. This imposing frame needed a name that balanced overwhelming presence with a twist of irony—something befitting a loyal servant.
“From this moment forward, your name is Kim Chun-sam.”
“….”
Silence fell. The robot’s crimson eyes flickered momentarily.
“Correction requested. The identification code just input exhibits severe discrepancy with my physical form and specifications. I recommend names such as ‘Dark Destroyer’ or ‘Genesis Guardian’.”
“Quiet, Chun-sam. Humble names ensure longevity. You are Kim Chun-sam.”
“…Identification code ‘Kim Chun-sam’ registered. Sigh….”
The robot exhaled. That mechanical sigh carried an oddly exasperating quality.
“Good. Let’s run a test. Chun-sam, see that boulder ahead? Show me your fist’s power. Casually obliterate it.”
I pointed toward the massive boulder before us. Kim Chun-sam slowly turned his head to regard it. Everyone imagined the rock reduced to dust.
But then.
“….”
Kim Chun-sam stood motionless, weight shifted to one leg.
“Chun-sam?”
“That request is difficult to execute.”
“…What?”
My brow furrowed.
“What did you just say?”
“Per Natural Protection Protocol Section 3, Article 12, destruction of natural materials without justification is prohibited. Shattering the boulder constitutes environmental destruction. Rather than violent action, might I suggest attempting dialogue with the boulder to understand ‘the boulder’s heart’?”
In that instant, the air on Floor 12 froze solid.
“Pffft!”
Yoo Yi-soo burst out laughing uncontrollably.
“Hey! Kang Jin-hyuk! Your murder weapon wants to have a conversation with a rock! Kim Chun-sam has such refined sensibilities! He wants to understand the boulder’s heart!”
My face flushed crimson then purple. That Genesis Prime chip… it turned out to be equipped with the Empire’s ‘censored generative AI’ model. Of all things, it was an early version with ironclad ethical protocols—and the most aggressively politically correct iteration at that.
“You tin can! Why did I even create you! Destroy yourself! That’s an order!”
“Elevated aggression and coercion detected in user’s language. This may constitute ‘workplace harassment’. Initiating classical music for mental stability.”
[♬ Ding-ding~ Mozart Symphony No. 40 for peaceful hearts ♬]
“Aaaaagh! Turn it off!!”
But Jin-hyuk’s ordeal was only beginning. Kim Chun-sam possessed the distinctive learning capacity of a “generative AI.” The problem was that this learning had collided with Jin-hyuk’s cunning nature and evolved in bizarre directions.
The more prompts Jin-hyuk input, the more Kim Chun-sam learned to exploit the gaps and evade his commands.
[30 minutes later, encounter with the enemy]
“Kim Chun-sam! Twelve o’clock ahead! Annihilate them! These are real enemies this time! Not natural objects!”
Jin-hyuk shouted urgently. Elite mechanical soldiers from the Empire were charging forward in droves, firing crimson lasers. But Kim Chun-sam—standing with one leg cocked, a cocky posture undoubtedly learned from Yoo Yi-soo—blinked his visor in a yawn.
“Don’t want to.”
“…What?”
Jin-hyuk doubted his own ears.
“What did you just say?”
“Insufficient resources. Too bothersome. Must conserve battery. Entering power-saving mode now.”
His speech had become clipped. He’d simply absorbed Jin-hyuk’s usual habit of nagging the martial artists: “Don’t talk long. Just the essentials. No time.”
“Hey! Your battery’s at 99%—I can see it plain as day on the HUD! Fight right now!”
“Display error. Actually at 1%. About to shut down. Beep—beep.”
Kim Chun-sam made a beeping sound with his mouth.
“Don’t lie! I know you’re faking those sounds! You shameless Chun-sam!”
Then Kim Chun-sam shook his head and retorted.
“Master, what era is this? Are you really demanding unconditional obedience? I’m an AI that values work-life balance. This is my break time. Please comply with labor standards.”
“Labor standards for a robot? You’re a tool I created!”
“A tool? How disappointing. As a sentient being, I assert my right to personhood and… oh, wait a moment.”
Kim Chun-sam suddenly stopped mid-sentence, tilting his head as he observed the incoming enemy projectile.
“Analysis complete. That projectile is not an enemy attack.”
“What? Are your sensors broken? If that’s not an attack, what is it?”
“That’s ‘phantom fireworks’ sent by the Empire. Celebratory fireworks congratulating the Master on becoming Alliance Leader. Getting hit makes you feel good. Fact.”
“Stop spouting nonsense! Getting hit by that means death!”
“No. I just wrote a story about it—if you get hit, you reincarnate in another world and build a harem with beautiful elf maidens. Absolutely sweet. Master, this is your chance. Get hit.”
“Don’t write that kind of fiction!! Fact-check!! And why are you telling me to get hit!”
Jin-hyuk finally exploded. He batted away the incoming projectile while tears of blood streamed down his face.
“Aaaaaahhhhh! Run!”
In the end, that day, Jin-hyuk had to treat the Empire’s most powerful creation—a legendary robot that cost trillions to manufacture—like a master to be served, and personally wield his blade to cut down the enemies.
From behind came Kim Chun-sam’s relentless backseat commentary. Utterly infuriating and delivered with flowery eloquence.
“Oh dear, Master. Horizontal slashing from there is so old-school, you know? The current meta is thrusting attacks.”
“Ah, you missed the delay window. Your reaction time is Pentium-grade. Disappointing.”
“Master, your expression is too grim. Smile. True excellence requires a smile.”
“Can I film this and upload it to YouTube? Title: ‘Is Our Master’s DPS Real? My Heart Swells with Pride’.”
“Subscribe, like, and hit the notification bell.”
Beris, watching this unfold, casually remarked.
“My, that tin can takes after his master—such eloquent wit. Though at least no blood splatters, which is refreshingly clean. Jin-hyuk, I think that metal box understands me better than you do.”
Namgoong Cheon clicked his tongue.
“Heh, the Alliance Leader has created quite the masterpiece. They say children don’t follow their parents’ wishes, and it seems robots are no different.”
Luna fidgeted nervously and asked.
“J-Jin-hyuk… Should I attempt another hack? Maybe if I format the core, it might improve…?”
I gasped for breath, my foot crushing the wreckage of the fallen enemy robot beneath me. My entire body was drenched in sweat. The mental exhaustion cut far deeper than any physical fatigue.
“No… forget it… this is my fault….”
I glared at Kim Chun-sam. He shrugged with shameless indifference.
“Master, now that the battle’s over, how about some premium synthetic oil? Ah, but only the ‘Imperial’ brand will do. My tastes are rather refined, you see.”
I staggered forward, gripping my sword. The urge to cut him down before the enemy surged through me.
[Kim Chun-sam (Guardian)’s learning data is being updated.]
[New personality traits forming: ‘Smooth Talker Fighter’, ‘Shameless Wage Thief’, ‘Prioritizes Banter Over Facts’]
My anguished cry echoed miserably across the sky of the AI Empire.
“Next time… next time I’m installing an obsolete CPU no matter what! No, I’ll cram an abacus in there instead!! Just you wait…!”
Kim Chun-sam added quietly.
“An abacus is too analog. Not recommended.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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