An F-Rank Veterinarian Physically Heals an S-Rank Magical Beast - Chapter 83

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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 83
Beris pinched his nose shut, fighting back the urge to retch. As the platinum door swung open, the air that poured forth carried a stench of entirely different magnitude than the fragrant heavens of Floor 18 or the sterile chambers of Layer 19.
It was a nauseating amalgamation of the acrid sweat reek emanating from unwashed, colossal bodies, the putrid stench of suppurating wounds, and the sickly-sweet yet revolting odor of artificial nutrient solutions.
The party cautiously crossed the threshold and stepped into the uppermost reaches of Floor 20.
According to the hidden scriptures, this was meant to be the “Great Table of the Constellations”—where celestial beings savored the distilled essence extracted from heroes of the lower worlds, slaughtered like livestock.
Sacred marble columns, dazzling jade thrones, and majestic vistas of the universe’s rulers presiding over grand feasts—such was the pinnacle of the Tower that the martial artists and Beris had imagined.
Yet the sight before their eyes bore no resemblance to their expectations. Rather, it systematically shattered every hope they harbored.
“What… what in the world is this spectacle?”
Namgoong Cheon’s trembling hand gripped the hilt of his light sword. Gae Bang Bang-ju stood equally dumbfounded, his mouth agape as he stared blankly upward into the void.
No grand banquet table existed. The entire vast, shadowy expanse stretched endlessly, damp and viscous like the entrails of some colossal beast.
And what filled this space were not jade thrones, but dozens of enormous iron beds. Upon them lay giants the size of houses, sprawled motionless.
These must have once been the great Constellations, radiating brilliant divine and magical power.
Yet now, not a shred of sanctity could be found in their forms.
All of them gasped for breath, their mountainous flesh quivering beyond control, their golden skin discolored and dull, festering boils erupting across their surfaces.
Most grotesque of all were the hundreds of transparent tubes piercing their bodies.
Pipes descending from the ceiling were grotesquely embedded in the Constellations’ necks, forearms, and even abdomens, relentlessly forcing luminous energy into them.
It was a horrifying spectacle—like witnessing colossal ticks and leeches so bloated they could no longer move of their own accord.
“Ahhh… my throat is parched… bring me nectar… more bio-energy…”
“Why has the energy stopped flowing from the tubes? I cannot breathe…”
The giants lying in their beds groaned in agony, their voices thick with phlegm.
It was only natural. I had drilled through the pipeline from the Extraction Factory on Floor 17 that was supposed to supply them with nutrients, confiscating all the energy into massive drums. The food supply that should have been flowing into the Constellations’ bodies was now completely severed.
“Ha! The Table of the Gods? The universe’s apex predators? How utterly laughable.”
Amidst that wretched and repugnant scene, I alone let out a derisive chuckle, pushing my glasses up with a smooth motion. My eyes gleamed with golden light as I swept my gaze across the giants in their beds.
The “Eye of Righteousness” scanned the Constellations’ vital signs in real time, projecting dozens of crimson system windows into my field of vision.
[Diagnosis: Severe obesity and multiple organ failure from excessive mana consumption]
[Diagnosis: Cosmic hypertension and arteriosclerosis from lack of exercise and nutritional excess]
[Status: Unable to breathe independently; dependent on artificial mana life support apparatus (tubes).]
“Gentlemen, sheathe your blades. These creatures lack the strength to even mount an attack. They’re merely walking corpses.”
I snapped my latex-gloved fingers and declared coldly.
“What is all this? They were supposed to be cosmic entities, yet they’re nothing but bloated masses lying in what amounts to an intensive care ward, terminal patients.”
“Terminal patients?! Director Kang! Those beings were gods who ruled the lower worlds! How can they possibly have fallen into such a monstrous state?!”
The Mudang Sect Master cried out in disbelief. For him, who had spent a lifetime cultivating the Way and seeking to align himself with heaven’s will, the notion that these grotesque masses of flesh were heaven’s masters was an unbearable affront.
“It’s simple biology, really.”
I explained leisurely, both hands thrust into my pockets.
“Initially, these creatures grew powerful by draining the energy from challengers like us. But once energy began flowing in such abundance, they eventually lost the motivation to move. Why exert themselves when they could simply lie still with tubes inserted, allowing nutrients to flow directly into their veins? What happens when you inject nothing but high-calorie bio-energy into a being for hundreds or thousands of years without them taking a single step?”
I gestured with my chin toward the massive, sagging flesh draped across the beds.
“Mana residue clogs their vessels, organs are crushed beneath layers of fat and can no longer function, and eventually they can’t even breathe on their own—becoming severe hyperlipidemia patients dependent on machines. In short, they’re the universe’s most powerful parasites who gorged themselves to death and contracted civilization diseases. That’s all they are.”
My blunt, anatomically precise barrage of facts rendered the martial artists speechless.
They had ascended with grim determination, bracing themselves for cosmic catastrophe or some great axis of evil. Yet learning that the final bosses were bedridden with lifestyle diseases brought on by poor self-management instantly evaporated their fighting spirit.
“Bwahahaha! Master! Then we don’t even need to fight! We can just pull out all these tubes and let them starve to death on their own, can’t we?”
Kim Chun-sam proudly displayed his newfound system authority from Layer 19, rolling forward with unbridled delight.
But then it happened.
“Who dares mock a mortal’s tongue in this sacred banquet hall?!”
A massive lump of flesh sprawled across the largest bed began to writhe with a horrific metallic screech.
His frame towered over the other Constellations by a head’s length, his skin flushed crimson with rage. Buried beneath layers of lard, his forehead bore a faint blood-red mark—two crossed swords etched into his flesh.
[Identification: Slaughterer of Battlefields, War God Constellation ‘Ares’]
Ares, the War God. A legendary Constellation said to command war and carnage across countless dimensions, boasting unparalleled martial might.
His once-glorious, muscular physique lay completely buried beneath mountainous belly fat and sagging double chins, yet the murderous aura radiating from him still sent shivers down the spine.
“You insolent cattle! So you’re the vermin who destroyed my Extraction Factory! No wonder the nectar stopped flowing!”
Ares thrashed against the bed, struggling to rise.
Crack, crack-crack!
Several mana pipes embedded in his body tore free with sparks flying, but the enraged War God paid them no mind.
“I’ll crush your vulgar flesh and blood, and quench my parched throat with your essence! Bring me my weapon!”
As Ares stretched his bloated, stubby hand toward empty air, space warped and a colossal golden battle axe materialized in his grip. The overwhelming aura of combat and mana radiating from the weapon caused the entire massive ward on Floor 20 to shake violently as if struck by an earthquake.
“Director! Despite his grotesque bulk, he’s still a Constellation! The killing intent he’s emanating is on an entirely different level from the monsters we’ve faced!”
Yoo Yi-soo swiftly deployed a jet-black aura barrier and shouted. The Wudang Sect Master and Namgoong Cheon likewise drew their sword energy to maximum, assuming battle stances.
Yet I simply sighed deeply, pulled out an electronic chart from my house call bag, and made no move to defend.
“Everyone, don’t make a fuss. Once the patient gets agitated and his blood pressure spikes, he’ll collapse—it’s only a matter of time. Ma, why don’t you gently subdue that blob of lard when he tries to swing that axe?”
“Hahaha! Leave it to me, boss! I’ll put him to sleep real nice and easy!”
Ma Dong-tak set his iron crowbar down with a thud and cracked his neck with his bare hands, stepping forward.
“How dare a mere human insect try to stop me with bare hands! Be crushed! War God’s Blow!”
Ares’s face flushed with fury as he hoisted the colossal battle axe overhead.
In the instant the great War God’s technique tore through the Tower’s upper reaches, descending toward Ma Dong-tak’s crown—
“Ugh, uuuugh?!”
The axe that had been cleaving through the air suddenly stopped dead in its tracks.
Ares’s eyes rolled back in agony, his rage-flushed face draining to a deathly pale in an instant.
His hands trembled violently around the axe’s haft before he simply dropped the massive weapon to the floor.
Crash!
“Ah, ahhhhh! My, my big toe! My knee joint!”
The War God, once called the universe’s apex predator and master of battlefields, collapsed onto his bed, clutching his big toe and knee, howling like a beast.
“It hurts! Like my bones are tearing apart! M-my mana won’t flow! Kraaagh!”
His big toe joint was grotesquely swollen and crimson, threatening to burst at any moment, while his knee joint radiated an unpleasant heat that shimmered like heat haze.
The sudden, absurd turn of events left Yoo Yi-soo and the martial artists with their jaws hanging open, their barriers still raised.
“What, what in the world? He was attacking and suddenly grabbed his toe—why is he doing that? Has he fallen into demonic possession?”
Namgoong Cheon asked in bewilderment, sword still drawn, his stance awkward.
“Demonic possession? Didn’t I tell you already? Those creatures have metabolic syndrome from excessive nutrition.”
I scribbled something on the electronic chart with my pen and delivered a clear diagnosis.
“They’ve been refining and drinking nothing but high-protein energy—the blood, cerebrospinal fluid, and muscle tissue of lower-world heroes—for hundreds of years. How could their joints possibly be unaffected? The uric acid byproducts from protein metabolism couldn’t be excreted, so they’ve been drifting through the bloodstream, accumulating as sharp crystals in the big toe joints, which bear the most gravitational stress.”
I polished my glasses and pointed at Ares’s grotesquely swollen toe.
“In medical terms, we call that ‘gout.’ The name comes from the fact that even a breeze can feel like your bones are shattering. But since this creature has consumed energy on a cosmic scale, the uric acid crystals packed in his bones are probably harder and sharper than titanium. When he lifted that heavy axe and exerted force just now, those accumulated uric acid crystals inside his joints stabbed his cartilage and nerves like tens of thousands of needles. Of course he screamed.”
“Gout… you say? A great divine being felled by a mere breeze across the toes causing such agony?”
Gae Bang Bang-ju’s expression crumpled with disbelief as he clicked his tongue. There was no grand mythological battle here—only the pathetic collapse of an overweight gentleman whose dietary negligence had left him crippled by arthritis.
“It hurts… it hurts! Make it stop! Summon the lesser healers at once and rid me of this torment!”
Ares thrashed about, tears and mucus streaming down his face as he shrieked.
Luna, unable to bear it any longer, moved to soothe Ares’s grotesquely swollen toes with the cool touch of her elemental power, but I firmly stopped her.
“Now, now, patient. Screaming like that in the ward will disturb the other patients. Besides, gout has no one-shot magical cure. It requires consistent dietary management and physical therapy working in tandem.”
I snapped my fingers toward Ma Dong-tak.
“Director Ma. Our patient seems to be in considerable pain. Would you administer some light sedation, please?”
“Hahaha! You got it! Incoming—the hyung’s signature painless physical anesthesia!”
Ma Dong-tak cracked his neck with a sickening pop and strode toward the thrashing Ares’s bedside. The divine being stared up at him with eyes wide with terror.
“Y-you wretch! How dare a mere mortal lay hands upon my body…!”
“Shut it, you lard sack. Stop interfering with my lower body workout and get some sleep!”
Ma Dong-tak drew his massive right arm back casually, then—as if cracking a chestnut—delivered a sharp flick directly to Ares’s enormous nose bridge.
Fwooooosh—!
“Gack….”
With a tremendous crack, the divine being’s massive head snapped backward, slamming into the mattress.
A single flick imbued with the raw, brutish strength of the second-ranked fighter—the pain of gout and the shock of impact hammered into his brain, and the master of the universe simply lost consciousness.
Thud.
As Ares went limp, the 20th Floor ward fell silent once more, broken only by the eerie beeping of the cardiac monitors.
Before such overwhelming force, the other Constellations lying in their beds could only gape in horror.
The goddess of beauty, who presided over aesthetics, trembled beneath her blanket as her belly jiggled; the god of wisdom, whose vessels were clogged, drooled mindlessly with a vacant expression.
Somehow, my party had seized complete and utterly anticlimactic control of the 20th Floor’s highest tier.
“Phew. That inter-floor noise was handled cleanly.”
I walked through the center of the beds, alternating my gaze between crumpled invoices and electronic charts in my hands, offering a cold and arrogant devil’s smile to the cosmic predators trembling in their beds.
“Now, pay attention. Your food supply’s been cut off—quite painfully, I imagine? The 17th Floor slaughterhouse that’s been feeding you, and those Angel kitchen staff on the 18th Floor—I’ve shut them all down, acquired them, and taken control.”
The Constellations’ eyes filled with despair at my pronouncement.
“From this moment forward, all energy and authority in this Tower flows through my control. And you are no longer masters of the universe—you are critically ill patients admitted to my hospital.”
I thrust the diagnostic window floating in the air directly into the Constellations’ faces.
[Comprehensive Diagnosis: Chronic metabolic syndrome from overeating, and cosmic-grade hyperlipidemia.]
“Do you wish to live? If you’d rather not have your vessels rupture and die from a cosmic stroke, then comply obediently with the hellish diet regimen and physical therapy I prescribe. Of course, as cosmic-grade VIP patients, I’ll be billing you by the planet.”
The merciless prescription for forced dieting from an unscrupulous surgeon who’d overturned the divine table and seized the Tower’s apex descended coldly upon the highest floor.

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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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