Chapter 80
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: Osteotomy
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The place called the operating room...
No matter how much Water of Life you sprinkle on it, severed arms and legs won't return to their original shape.
The wounds simply close up, cells multiply, and bones and flesh grow however they please.
Regeneration that ignores form isn't recovery—it's mere "proliferation."
So the method I chose was this.
Osteotomy.
A surgical technique still used in modern medicine to correct severe bone deformities or malformations from trauma.
Rather than leaving the regrown bones as they are, you intentionally cut them, shave them down, and realign them to forcibly create a "normal form."
But the thought hit me right away.
'...This barely even qualifies as osteotomy.'
Normal osteotomy corrects bones that already exist.
Adjusting the angle a bit, tweaking the length, straightening a twisted axis—that sort of thing.
This was different.
There wasn't even a skeletal framework here to use as a reference for correction in the first place.
I had to use the Water of Life to make bones grow where none existed, then control the growth process in real time, sculpting them bit by bit into the shape they were supposed to have.
Shave down protrusions, recut if they veered off course, and keep intervening until the joint surfaces formed.
It required calculating everything—the timing of blood vessels attaching, the moment nerves extended, the sequence in which muscles took root. It was orthopedic surgery, but at the same time, a work of "sculpture."
Under normal circumstances, the patient would have gone into shock long before, or the surgeon would lose focus, hands trembling, and fail.
But fortunately, I had reliable allies with me right now.
"Piel, Aira."
I turned to the two of them.
"Prepare just like you did for Alain the family head's surgery last time."
"Yes, Master!"
"Same method as back then?"
"The basics are the same."
I steadied my breathing and spoke clearly.
"But this time, it's not about protecting the heart—it's about creating a form."
I looked at Piel.
"Piel, use your shield to hold the frame of the growing bones in place. Make sure they don't stray from those lines, and fix the exact positions where the joints will form."
And Aira.
"Aira, tell me every change right before regeneration goes haywire. Whether nerves pull taut first, blood flow surges, or bones start protruding."
The two swallowed hard for a moment, then nodded in unison.
"Got it!"
"Leave it to us!"
First, I unwound all the bandages wrapped around the amputation sites.
As the stiffened cloth peeled away with bits of flesh, a damp stench wafted out, revealing the contaminated stumps.
I dripped tiny amounts of Water of Life onto them.
The goal wasn't "healing."
It was to make the contaminated tissue slough off on its own—not full recovery.
The rotting flesh reacted first where the Water of Life touched.
Blackened tissue swelled up, then sloughed off from the edges like it was being pushed away.
But I stopped there.
Not enough to heal the entire stump.
Maybe about ninety percent.
Just up to the point where the boundary between healthy and necrotic tissue was clear.
Any further, and flesh and bone would start sprouting without form.
If regeneration kicked off before the frame was set, surgery would become impossible to control from that moment on.
I took up the scalpel and scraped away the remaining necrotic tissue one by one.
Thanks to the Water of Life's reaction, the dead tissue separated without resistance.
There was hardly any bleeding.
I hadn't touched any living blood vessels yet.
Finally, I checked the stumps again.
Color.
Elasticity.
Microscopic bleeding response.
Only healthy tissue remained.
All four limbs.
"Good."
I took a deep breath and switched hands on the tool.
"Now the real surgery begins."
Everything so far had just been prep work.
Removing infection, defining boundaries, restoring a state ready to accept regeneration.
Now came the part where I'd create missing bones... and force them into normal shapes.
Osteotomy.
It was right then.
"Lucas Argent."
Evelyn, who had been silently maintaining her magic at the back of the operating room, spoke up.
"You don't intend to use all the Water of Life I gave you on that demon child, do you?"
I paused the scalpel for a moment, then nodded.
"Probably. It might not even be enough."
It was an honest answer.
What I was about to do wasn't simple osteotomy.
It was a continuous process of shaving growing bones, correcting their alignment, and recutting the flawed parts.
"To match the form, I'll have to keep carving away bone. Even a slight angle deviation could nick a nerve... or damage a vessel."
I steadied my breath and continued.
"Without inducing regeneration each time, those would become fatal wounds. That's why I need to keep using the Water of Life."
Truth be told, I was scared.
Even I, who had opened, broken, and fixed countless bones in the trauma center, had never done surgery like this.
Creating bones from nothing and forcing their shape with every moment of growth.
No orthopedic specialist, no trauma surgeon, would hear this and not click their tongue in disbelief.
That's why I'd practically begged Evelyn before coming here.
To bring as much Water of Life as possible.
If it still wasn't enough, I'd even pull in the "Spring of Immortality" from Argent territory—less effective, but still called a miracle.
But.
The reason Evelyn asked this question didn't seem to be the surgery's difficulty.
"Lucas Argent."
Her voice sank cold.
"If you plan to 'save' that demon, I can't lend you any more Water of Life."
The air froze in an instant.
"...What?"
"P-Princess?"
Piel and Aira stiffened simultaneously.
But Evelyn didn't budge an inch.
"I won't intervene with anesthesia magic or support spells for this surgery anymore."
It was a firm declaration.
Her eyes held no hesitation—just clear refusal.
The strength drained from my scalpel hand.
No, maybe it would have been better to set the instruments down entirely.
Wielding blades without anesthesia wasn't treatment—it was torture.
"Princess... why?"
Piel asked cautiously.
Her bushy tail hung limp and powerless.
"Are you... just too tired?"
But Evelyn didn't answer.
She just looked away.
Aira watched the scene quietly.
Her expression was complicated.
Well, Aira had once been a princess of the elven kingdom.
She knew better than anyone how politics and hatred were born.
...In truth, everyone here knew—except Piel, who'd lived cut off from the world in the mountains.
Why Evelyn was reacting this way.
I already knew from the original story.
"Do you see demons as humanity's enemies, Princess?"
"Of course."
Evelyn answered without a hint of hesitation.
"They were in the past, and they are now. Demons have no place in this world."
Her voice was ice.
"The 'axis of evil.' Nothing more, nothing less."
As the empire's princess.
And as someone who had to uphold this world's order, her conviction didn't waver.
Demons.
In another world's tale, they might just be "powerful antagonistic race" fodder.
But in this world, in Vengeful Goddesses, demons were different.
They weren't a naturally occurring race.
They were the result of humanity's large-scale human experiments long ago, when we tried to transcend ourselves.
Blending humans and magical beasts, encroaching on the gods' domain to create them.
The experiment failed.
And that failure nearly wiped out humanity thousands of years ago.
If the hero hadn't appeared, the world would have ended then.
That war was so fierce it filled every history book, and the defeated demons established their stronghold in the continent's heartland.
Demon Realm.
Land right in the middle of trade crossroads where other races passed through.
That choice sparked endless clashes and skirmishes over countless long years.
And so.
Perceptions of demons only worsened with time.
In such an era, for the empire's own princess—the face of the empire—to use Water of Life for a demon child, symbol of the world's evil?
To Evelyn, that wasn't a political misstep or personal mercy.
It was outright "heresy."
Of course, when in Rome, do as the Romans do—I, an outsider to this world, couldn't casually judge her.
But.
This wasn't a political stage right now.
It was the operating room.
And the operating room had only one purpose.
To save lives—good or evil, even blood of a race that once tried to end the world.
"But when you first saw this child, Princess, your heart ached too."
"...!"
"You grimaced at the severed limbs. And you clenched your fist."
I took a step closer.
"You were angry that a young child had ended up like this."
Evelyn's gaze wavered.
"That's all I'm trying to do here."
I looked her straight in the eye.
"Princess. Just like the anger you felt seeing that scene, as a doctor, I only want to treat the patient in front of me. There's no humanity or demons here. No grand ideals."
I took a breath, then extended my hand.
"So for this once, think of it as a debt you owe me... and help."