Akashic Record
Yuna's mother was a petite woman. Considering Yuna, who was larger than her peers, and the nearly 190cm-tall Seo No-eul, it was unexpected.
Numerous diagnostic devices were hooked up to her body, each blaring out just how dire her condition was in various ways. Still, I couldn't skip the diagnostic spell.
"What are you planning to do?"
"Could you wake Yuna for a bit? I need the bed."
"Uh... sure. Yuna, honey, can you sit up for a second?"
"Mmm...?"
Yuna was roused groggily by her brother, her mind still foggy. I hopped onto the spot she'd vacated, kneeling to get a clear view of the patient.
Diagnosis
It was a purely procedural spell. It checked basics like blood pressure and pulse, then analyzed bodily substance concentrations to flag any special considerations for future spellcasting.
As expected, it matched the readings on the medical devices—revealing exactly why the doctors had given up hope on her.
The part I focused on most was, of course, the central nervous system. It features a substance called myelin that sheathes nerve fibers, preventing signal leakage and amplifying transmission speeds by dozens of times. It's so vital that you could say all human intellectual capacity runs through it.
Athletes and pro gamers clock reaction times of 100-150ms because their myelin sheaths are noticeably thicker. That's why 4th Circle Defensive Stance and 6th Circle Thought Acceleration—both spells that directly manipulate myelin—carry such high risks.
Multiple sclerosis destroys the myelin around central nerves. In her case, the brain fibers weren't just thinned; they were like stripped wires, completely exposed.
Her diagnosis results were clear, save for one minor issue: trace amounts of fentanyl lingering in her system. It was a decent quantity for something like a pharmacy-purchased narcotic patch, but not enough to interfere with the spell I'd cast next. Small mercies.
"So, what's next?"
"NoName...? What are you doing?"
No-eul and Yuna asked in turn.
"Just to be sure—do you have a portable transmutation circle writer or something like that?"
"Of course not! Those cost more than a car!"
"Got it."
It'd be less efficient, but the spell I had in mind wasn't reactive anyway, so no issue there.
"Could you close the door? Actually, lock it. Make sure no one can get in."
Thank goodness for the private room. With so many patients, the 6-beds, 4-beds, and 2-beds were full, leaving only the priciest singles—which they'd tearfully shelled out for out of necessity.
Undisturbed casting was paramount right now. But kicking out No-eul and Yuna too would be incredibly rude, so I'd grit my teeth and tolerate those two.
"I'm about to etch a semi-permanent compound-generation transmutation circle into her skin."
"Semi-permanent transmutation circle? Where? On a person?"
"Yes. Drugs are expensive anyway. Etch it as a tattoo, feed it periodically encrypted mana, and it'll dispense the right meds tailored to the patient's condition."
No-eul scowled, eyeing me suspiciously.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I'm saying I can cure your mother."
"I'm not in the mood for jokes. If this is some kid's playtime, even if you're Yuna's friend, I'll lose it."
"It's not a joke or playtime!"
"Then what is it?!"
"You think you could understand if I explained?"
No-eul's dumbfounded face was almost comical. Yuna fidgeted beside him, pretending to try talking me down.
I get it. I look like a kid among kids, not even eight yet. Korea's top doctors couldn't do it, so some random little girl shows up claiming she can? It'd baffle anyone.
But do you think I like this body? Walking on short legs is a hassle. High shelves are out of reach. A little exertion leaves me winded. All inconvenient.
But no choice. It's the precious body my mother sacrificed her life for. So I just live with it.
I hopped down from the bed, facing Seo No-eul squarely. Outside, sunset blinded me. Warm rays generously shared the day's last warmth.
Our height difference was over 70cm. But I met his doubting gaze without flinching, stating my resolve.
"I initially considered anthracycline antibiotics, aminoanthraquinone, and interferon beta synthesis. But that won't be enough for your mother. So I'm adding a monoclonal antibody targeting CD20 to suppress excessive B-cell activity. Clear enough?"
So don't interfere. A 190cm giant dead set against me would be impossible to bypass, but I hoped No-eul would trust me once.
"..."
Seo No-eul finally stepped back. I climbed onto the bed again, pressing fingers to Yuna's mother's arm to pick injection sites. Since it'd all be IV, precise spots weren't critical.
No transmutation writer or medium meant another hack like with Manager Kim.
"Scissors—er, on the desk there. Pass me the scissors."
Yuna dashed over, handing me small stationery shears. The blunt tips might hurt if not done right in one go.
I gripped them tight along my palm lines, blades aligned steady—no room for fingers. Then, without hesitation, slashed diagonally.
Shlick.
"Hey! Are you insane?!"
"Nami...!!!"
Dark red blood welled from my left wrist. To waste not a drop, I aura-coated my mouth and sucked it in.
Not an artery; it'd stop soon enough. Speed was life for the circle.
Dipping my index finger in blood, I began painterly strokes for the grand circle—like a flamboyant artist.
Grand in name only; it barely spanned a palm. Arm etching limited size for mid-tier spells—you couldn't freely scale them.
Blood's an excellent mana conductor. But hemoglobin loses it on air contact, so haste was key.
Next, I adapted each compound formula to her diagnosis. Molecular structures are huge. Mana-stacking from atoms—not chemical refinement—meant converting interferon beta's C74H115N19O25, and even biosynthetic C908H1406N246O252S7 - C908H1406N246O252S5, entirely to omega-form 3D runes.
Stacking molecules sequentially, atom by atom.
"Haa."
Heat built in my skull; deep breaths helped, but no pausing. Brain-sizzle felt nostalgic.
Aiming for a circle, space ran out—I encroached the edges repeatedly, sprawling the array long across her entire arm.
Hoping I'd recorded it right, I infused mana. Soul-draining exhaustion hit.
But not quite depletion. Fainting now would ruin everything, so I gripped the bedrail and activated.
The grotesque pattern glowed sunset hues. Impure mana purified, breathing life into it.
One incantation left. Patient monitors wailed alarms—beeps, whines, red-blue sirens in chaos.
"What happened? Something go wrong?"
"No."
I answered confidently. Empty hand at last—no cramps.
Stroking Yuna's red hair, I whispered in her ear.
"Birthday tomorrow, right? A bit early, but happy birthday, Yuna."
With that, consciousness snapped.
Akashic Record
Bang bang bang!
"Guardian? Is the guardian in there? The door's locked—open up quick!"
Despite nurses' urgings after the emergency signal, Seo No-eul couldn't budge. They'd say the body freezes after something utterly irrational—spot on for him.
"Oppa! Nami's wrist won't stop bleeding... What do we do?!"
Blood splattered the white sheets everywhere. Yuna's scream snapped No-eul back; he opened the door first.
"You can't just lock doors in a hospital— Aaahhh!"
The young nurse dropped her syringes and meds in shock at the scene. Pricey stuff, but no time for that. Helping Yuna's friend came first.
"The kid's badly hurt! Wrist and... mana exhaustion symptoms too..."
"Mana exhaustion?!"
"Just get any doctor! And stop that wrist bleed first somehow!"
"Y-yes!"
Sirens quieted, but trailing nurses filled the cramped room. Veterans handled emergency care deftly.
Meanwhile, the head nurse checking the alarm source spotted the anomaly first.
"Park, did you administer vincristine or cytarabine to the patient?"
"M-me? No, I didn't do anything..."
"Then why's the white blood cell count like this? More importantly..."
The multiple sclerosis progression bar retreated at miraculous speed. 80% to 79%, then 78%. Impossible unless the machine glitched.
"This... this means she's getting better, right, doctor? I can read a bar graph."
Seo No-eul pointed at the shrinking bar, tears flowing, to the head nurse.
"No. Device error."
She answered firmly. Professional duty forbade false hope to guardians.