In the dead of night, Padugel was nothing like its bustling daytime self; all around was enveloped in silence.
Whether it was the city’s residents or the wandering refugees, all had already drifted into dreams, conserving their strength for the coming day.
On the streets, aside from the occasional patrol of city guards holding lanterns, there seemed to be no trace of any other activity.
Yet, in this nearly pitch-dark city, there was still one building with light shining from its second floor.
Draggan Clinic.
Since the afternoon, the clinic had hung up a “Closed” sign. Nearly all the residents in the city believed that Doctor Sandrina was tired today and had gone to rest early.
But now, the light still glowing in that upstairs room cast doubt on all those assumptions.
“No, this isn’t right! It shouldn’t be like this?”
Inside the lit second-floor room, all sorts of experimental apparatus filled the space.
The laboratory’s owner had always been someone who prized cleanliness, ensuring the room was tidy with every use.
But now, test tubes and medicine bottles of every shape and color were scattered haphazardly across the worktable, some even knocked to the floor and smashed into shards.
Books and notebooks were piled on the table, and some even dangled off the chairs.
Yet, compared to the mess in the lab, its owner’s situation seemed even worse.
Her once-smooth brown hair had turned into a wild bird’s nest after just one night.
The once-clear and delicate face was now smudged with all manner of stains—some from potions, others from ink.
This Doctor Sandrina, respected and admired by many suitors in the city, was now sporting panda-like dark circles under her eyes, scratching her head as she stared at the thick notebook in her hands.
Her already messy hair only grew more unruly with her frustration.
“Reagent α’s reaction does indeed indicate the patient is showing recent signs of soul-loss.
That is exactly what soul-loss syndrome should look like.
But reagent β isn’t showing any signs of mana depletion.
On the contrary, it’s indicating that the patient’s mana is abundant—she’s an exceptionally talented mage.
What on earth is going on?”
A row of test tubes sat before her, each containing a different colored liquid and a small fragment of residue settled at the bottom.
These were the results of Sandrina’s entire night of work since driving Lanafit away.
As Draggan’s student, Sandrina had not only fully inherited his medical skills, but had also become an important assistant in the research Draggan had devoted his life to—soul-loss syndrome.
But this disease was extremely rare.
Out of hundreds of thousands of people, it was difficult to find even one patient, which meant there was a severe shortage of test subjects.
Draggan had spent almost all his savings and called in every favor just to acquire a single patient’s tissue sample.
That patient had died of mana exhaustion due to soul-loss syndrome.
Once Draggan obtained the tissue, his research made significant breakthroughs—he and his student identified the syndrome’s characteristics and the changes it caused in the body and mana.
Unfortunately, since the patient was long dead and the tissue no longer active, the research could only go so far.
For further progress, a living patient would be needed.
But with the odds of one in hundreds of thousands—and the fact that only the already rare group of mages could contract it—such a chance was almost nonexistent.
Thus, Draggan died with regret.
As his disciple, Sandrina had originally planned to give up after her teacher passed away.
But by a stroke of fate, today, a living patient had come to her clinic, rekindling her passion for the research.
If she could uncover the cause and essence of soul-loss syndrome and help its sufferers, she would fulfill her teacher’s last wish—the dream they had shared as master and student.
But now, the experimental results were not matching the past findings.
Lanafit’s surface tissues—nails, hair, even superficial skin—all showed soul-loss reactions with reagent α, but reagent β showed no sign of mana depletion.
On the contrary, the mana was so rich that Sandrina felt like she could grind up Lanafit’s nails and hair and sell them as mana-replenishing potions.
Sandrina was nearly driven mad by this.
Could it be that living patients differed from dead ones in some way?
Or had all the previous research been wrong, and soul-loss syndrome didn’t actually cause mana loss?
No matter which reagent she used, the results were always the same.
She had already combed through her teacher’s experiment records dozens of times, convinced she’d missed something, but after so many readings, she still found nothing new.
Helpless, Sandrina finally tossed the notebook onto the table, deciding to give up for the night and wait until Lanafit came tomorrow to conduct research directly on her.
Unexpectedly, the heavy notebook jolted a nearby bottle from the table.
As Sandrina’s eyes widened and she reached out to stop it, a bottle of reagent toppled and spilled all over the table.
The reagent also splashed onto the precious glass container holding Lanafit’s unused nails and hair.
In that instant, Sandrina thought she was doomed.
She’d just ruined her rare experimental materials through her own carelessness. If her teacher were still alive, he’d definitely smack her on the head for this.
But on second thought, with such a large, living test subject waiting for her, what were a few nails and hairs?
After all, Lanafit was relying on her for treatment.
At least in the entire world—or at least the Haide Empire—there was no one else who could research soul-loss syndrome.
There used to be: first her teacher, and now, after his death, herself.
In any case, tomorrow she absolutely had to persuade that mage called Lanafit to give up some blood.
If she could cut off a finger… uh, maybe just blood would do.
With these thoughts, Sandrina planned to go to sleep.
Tomorrow’s experiments were more important; she needed to rest.
She was just about to tidy up the apparatus on the table when, in the next second, her eyes widened as she stared fixedly at the experimental materials on the table.
She wasn’t looking at anything else, but at the very tissue samples from Lanafit that had accidentally been contaminated with the reagent.
More specifically, she was looking at the colorless reagent settling at the bottom of the container.
The reagent showed no reaction at all, and it was precisely this that shocked her even more.
She picked up the nearly empty bottle, with only a few drops left inside, and then did something utterly unexpected.
She poured the remaining reagent into her palm.
If it had been dangerous, she would have been in for a world of pain.
Fortunately, when the reagent touched her skin, she felt nothing uncomfortable.
On the contrary, the cool liquid actually refreshed her a bit.
But as Sandrina watched, the colorless reagent in her palm gradually turned blue under the lamp light.
Seeing the color change, Sandrina’s gaze shifted back to the glass container, but this time, her expression grew serious.
This reagent was not meant for use on Lanafit’s tissue samples.
It had no medicinal properties whatsoever, but every clinic was currently equipped with it.
Its purpose was singular: to identify race.
Because of recent rumors about the Demon King’s resurrection, the Church had urgently distributed this reagent to churches, guilds, and clinics everywhere.
Its purpose was to detect whether any members of the Demon Race had infiltrated Human Race territory to steal information for the Demon King.
When the reagent came into contact with the Human Race, it turned blue as before.
For the numerous Subhuman Race and various beasts, it would display different colors accordingly.
As for the Demon Race, the reagent would turn deep red.
But now, the test reagent showed no reaction whatsoever to Lanafit.
What did this mean?
Could it be that this mage named Lanafit was actually a rare species not recorded in the race registry?
Some kind of Subhuman Race never before seen by the world?
But her body was no different from the Human Race.
If there was any difference… it was that she was more beautiful than everyone else—did that count?
Still, Sandrina wasn’t interested in Lanafit’s race.
Her mind was still on the matter of soul-loss syndrome.
She remembered her teacher once said that soul-loss syndrome was not unique to the Human Race; any being with mana, regardless of race, could contract it.
So, was it precisely because Lanafit wasn’t Human Race that the reagents had reacted so differently from all previous experimental records?
With this thought, Sandrina had made up her mind.
She walked to the door, opened it, and went downstairs to the clinic’s first floor to put on the coat hanging on the rack.
She was going out into the night to gather some special herbs.