"Just as expected of a Morningstar-tier attack. I didn't even dare bring my fingers close to that bizarre Law energy. Even blades forged from Legendary-tier alchemical materials lost their sharpness upon touching that incomprehensible corrosive effect. It seemed the necrotic muscle tissue and internal organs in your body were completely beyond saving. To keep the damage in your flesh from spreading further, I could only remove all the withered tissue, along with the nerves and bones."
With a helpless, faintly wistful sigh, she swung her blade. Her movements were rough, as though she were butchering livestock, and the ruthless Plague Box quickly cut away a full third of Diteben's flesh. To contain all that inactive, contaminated, troublesome refuse, Keishanoa, acting as a temporary doctor, had no choice but to stuff it all into a round iron barrel.
Thus, by the time the operation was nearing its end, the metal container that resembled a giant crucible was filled with chunks of internal organs, flesh, bones, and even spinal tissue. Those in the know understood that Plague Box was urgently treating Thunderstorm's wounds. Anyone who did not might have thought that Keishanoa, having eaten her fill of sweet bread, was about to research beef offal soup.
Of course, Diteben, lying on the stone platform, was undoubtedly one of those in the know.
So, even as he watched his body turn into little more than half a skeleton beneath the young mage's sharp blade, the Legendary Warlock merely let out a long breath and remarked heavily, with a trace of relief:
"What luck, to have kept my life... Do you know? When that necrotic tissue was spreading through my body, my soul was half-collapsed, and I did not even have the strength to raise a hand and carve it out myself. A warlock's