Nightmare Paradise : Starting as a Doctor

Clearing the makeshift table of scattered rocks, Lynn carefully organized the items from his workspace, methodically storing them in his cluttered inventory, already brimming with extraordinary ores.

The second task, which had consumed a significant portion of the dark hours, involved meticulously harvesting and extracting the glowing mineral deposits embedded in the cavern walls.

Grabbing one of the irregular chunks, he studied it with keen eyes, his [Spiritual Vision] enhancing his perceptions. The mineral looked like normal iron but radiated a faint, earthy luminescence.

[Earthbound Iron]

[Grade: Common]

[Evaluation: A peculiar iron-based ore that gradually absorbed potent energies and forces from the depths of mountains. Its enhanced composition offers increased durability and exceptional spiritual conductivity.]

"To think this unassuming material holds such supernatural properties," he mused, playing with the rough fragments. Based on his analysis, they were the cause of the mutation that had infested the area.

Even the spiders appeared to feed on these deposits, which might explain the toughness of their carapace and the severity of their corruption. However, the drive to excavate every visible piece stemmed from the lucrative opportunity they represented in the [Trading] section of Nightmare Paradise.

When his inventory was overflowing, he directly started selling the excess. With each deal, he raked in a staggering amount of nightmare coins, his earnings multiplying with every transaction.

Without the threat of attracting attention and the imminent dungeon mission, he would have gladly leveled the entire mountain, convinced even richer veins of the ore lay buried deeper beneath the surface.

"I cannot change the situation," Lynn shook his head, reluctant to waste the opportunity. With a final sweeping, he surveyed the now-empty table, ensuring nothing was on it for what was about to unfold.

His hand reached for the leather-bound journal, forgotten and gathering dust in his inventory space - a relic from the previous dungeon with the twisted merchant Knott. The mere sight of it stirred a sense of unease within him.

The diary had long remained untouched, a silent reminder of the pollution that had seeped into its pages, tainting it with a dark, wicked aura. Initially, he had intended to find a way to cleanse the item, believing it could yield valuable insights.

However, his perspective shifted after acquiring the tamer knowledge from the monster whispering manual and completing his recent sublimation. Its value had diminished significantly in his eyes, making it no longer worth spending money and resources on the purification as he pursued more pressing matters.

"But with the systemic understanding and the possibility of using tamer abilities, the requirement to purify this book has become easier," he murmured, his fingers drumming contemplatively against the rocky surface.

As a [Flesh Stitcher], he now possessed the tools and knowledge to tackle the issue of spiritual corruption head-on. The techniques and rituals detailed in the ancient tome had unlocked a new realm of possibilities for him.

His gaze drifted to the cluster of spider eggs resting nearby, a faint gleam of interest flickering in his eyes. Finding them had been the catalyst for his choice to tackle and purge the tainted book.

These unhatched offspring were the keys to the ritual he had in mind. Lynn carefully plucked one of the fragile, oval-shaped shells from the pile, cradling it in the palm of his hand. Its translucent surface pulsed with a faint, mystical glow, hinting at the extraordinary life contained within.

"The perfect vessel," he mused, his mind racing with the possibilities. According to the tamer knowledge he acquired, the most common purification techniques often involved transferring spiritual pollution from one object to another rather than outright eliminating it.

In this case, the force saturating the diary could be directed and channeled toward the vulnerable arachnid eggs, compelling them and forcing them to siphon and absorb the toxic contamination.

This method was simple and ingenious, enabling him to purify the harmful influence with nothing more than excellent containers, avoiding the need for complex ceremonies or specialized resources.

Feeling confident in his approach, he placed the first spawn on the table and continued arranging the remaining ones in a precise circle around the aged leather journal positioned at the center.

The alignment evoked a faint, almost imperceptible response as if the items were subtly resonating. "Let’s see if this works," Lynn murmured, rolling up his sleeves and preparing to put his knowledge to the test.

Touching both palms together, he closed his gaze and focused intently, pushing aside all thoughts and distractions. In the darkness behind his eyelids, intricate runes and symbols emerged in his consciousness.

His mouth moved almost unconsciously, letting out mysterious arcane incantations in a low, worshipful tone. The words rolled off his tongue with a strange cadence that seemed to vibrate through the very fabric of reality.

An immediate reaction occurred. Sinister and undulating patterns emerged beneath the weathered cover, and tendrils of shadowy energy seeped from the pages, twisting and reaching outward.

The spider eggs, however, began to tremble and quiver, their pulsing glow intensifying. Lynn watched impassively as the dark substance coiled around them, penetrating the unborn creatures.

In the usual course, a tamer would have meticulously prepared additional materials to weaken the pollution, ensuring the gradual absorption of the spiritual force to help the mutation and evolution.

This approach would allow for a controlled transformation, carefully guiding the beast through the phases of growth and change. However, since he had no intention of taming them, he bypassed this step.

The first shell, unable to withstand the overwhelming influx, exploded. A viscous, greenish fluid burst forth, spattering across the rocky surface. But the disturbance did not end there.

The others, seemingly more resistant, swell and trembled ominously. A deformation could be witnessed through the translucent membranes. They strained and stretched, warping as the unborn spiderlings inside distorted.

Limbs protruded at unnatural angles, pushing against the confines, while carapaces thickened and hardened. Some even started becoming strange amalgamations of arachnids and other bestial features.

Lynn observed the process unfold with a clinical detachment, his gaze unwavering as the spawn underwent their ghastly transformation. He was curious to see if any creatures might endure the overwhelming corruption.

But the sinking feeling of disappointment soon took hold as each vessel erupted in a gruesome show of gore, one after another. By the end of the ritual, some half-formed monstrosities managed to exist in their shells.

Twitching and convulsing, their movements were erratic and disjointed, as if struggling against an invisible restraint. Despite the brief animation, they soon succumbed to their inherent instability.

Ignoring the grotesque display, he retrieved the diary from the makeshift table, running his hand over the worn cover, feeling the faded texture and wiping away the accumulated green fluids.

The oppressive aura that had once clung to it had dissipated, replaced by a residual energy that felt muted and dormant. Without hesitation, he opened the book and flipped through the pages.

The ink-stained words had ceased their erratic dance, and the paper no longer pulsed with an unsettling glow. "The ritual was a success," Lynn realized, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Even the captivating illustration of the perfect creature, depicting a humanoid figure formed from a fusion of various monster parts, became just a series of random sketches without any meanings.

However, his eyes ignored these superficial changes, focusing on the rune scripts and symbols carefully inscribed into the pages. Using his spiritual energy, he unraveled the encoded information.

The journal held fragmented knowledge—basic instructions for manipulating and shaping creatures. Knott’s obsessive quest to create the 'perfect creature' had driven him to compile these notes.

But the knowledge was incomplete and flawed in its very foundation. The monsters created from these methods would never reach their full potential; they would remain stagnant, incapable of evolving.

Quickly scanning the pages with curiosity, he suddenly paused at a particular section. "That is quite interesting,” he carefully examined the details, his gaze focusing intently and his breath catching slightly.

The process was inefficient and dangerous, but some parts sparked a new inspiration—a way to refine this crude method using his unique abilities as a [Flesh Stitcher]. His mind instantly began to whirl with possibilities.

“If I were to apply this knowledge using my methods…” he murmured, a glint of excitement in his eyes as his hands itched to experiment. There was even an idea on how to get his first tamed beast.

Suppressing his urge to research further, he abruptly closed the book and stored it in his inventory. To execute this inspiration, he required more time, which he did not have currently.

The date for the third dungeon mission was fast approaching, just around the corner. Lynn needed to finalize the last preparation and, at the same time, check the situation in the abandoned district.