After arranging everything...

Next, Bruce attended to the mutant beasts. Small scratches and minor injuries were deliberately inflicted, not enough to cause lasting harm, but enough to test regeneration speed.

Carefully, he applied different combinations of herbs to the wounds, adjusting pressure, observing reactions, and noting even the smallest changes in color, tissue recovery, and movement. Every adjustment was calculated, every application precise.

As he worked, Bruce's mind moved ahead, projecting the influx of patients he expected. The chief's recommendation would ensure that injured villagers flooded this house within hours, each eager for the strange, non-magical technique that promised accelerated recovery.

He organized his workspace to anticipate the surge, herbs within easy reach, instruments lined neatly, cages for experimental treatment ready. Nothing would slow him down.

Hours passed, measured only by the light shifting through the small window. Bruce's movements never faltered. With each experiment, each adjustment, he refined his technique further. Even minor improvements were noted, stored, and integrated instantly, his photographic memory ensuring nothing was forgotten.

By the time the first tentative knock came at the door, an early patient arriving ahead of the others, Bruce was already in full command of his environment. The herbs were sorted, the mutant beasts observed and recorded, his tools prepared. Every element of the room was optimized to maximize efficiency.

He exhaled quietly, scanning his setup one last time. It would be chaotic soon, but he was ready.

Seven days. That was all he had. And he would make every second count.

The knock came sooner than Bruce expected.

The door barely had time to open before two villagers stumbled inside, half-dragging a man between them. His leg was slick with blood, red already soaking through torn fabric and dripping onto the floor in uneven splashes that marked their frantic rush. The metallic scent of it hit the room immediately.

"Please, help him!" one of them blurted out, voice strained and breathless.

Bruce was already moving.

They lowered the injured man to the floor as carefully as their shaking hands allowed. Bite marks and deep claw gashes tore across his leg, jagged and vicious, the kind that spoke of a feral struggle rather than a clean kill. Blood flowed far too freely, pulsing and spilling despite the pressure they had tried to apply. Worse still, the flesh around the wounds twitched faintly, as though reacting to something crawling beneath the surface.

"A mutant feral wolf," the man groaned through clenched teeth. Sweat beaded across his brow as his fingers dug into the dirt floor. "It caught me while hunting. My leg, it's going numb. I think… I think I've been poisoned."

Bruce crouched beside him at once, his expression tightening.

At first glance, the injuries were eerily similar to the wounds Rose Redwood had suffered earlier. Same pattern. Same savagery. But as Bruce leaned closer, something subtle caught his attention. A faint purple hue crept along the torn flesh, barely noticeable unless one knew exactly what to look for. His gaze followed the veins running up the man's leg, and his eyes narrowed when he saw it.

They were beginning to discolor as well.

That's not normal.

His jaw set.

It's definitely poison.

Without hesitation, Red shifted in response to his intent. Part of the weapon flowed and reshaped itself into a flexible metal belt, cool and seamless. Bruce wrapped it tightly around the man's upper thigh, cinching it down with practiced precision until the blood flow slowed to a controlled seep.

"Hold still," he said calmly, his voice steady enough to cut through the rising panic in the room.

The other half of Red formed into a scalpel, its edge impossibly sharp. Bruce widened the wound just enough, careful and deliberate. Darkened blood immediately began to pour out, thicker than it should have been, carrying with it a faint, sickly tint. The tainted blood pooled on the floor as Bruce worked, coaxing it out before it could spread further.

The man cried out sharply, then bit down hard, muffling the sound as Bruce continued without pause.

As he worked, Bruce's mind raced.

Back at the market, he had heard the rumors. Rose Redwood's injuries had also been caused by a mutant feral wolf. And yet, she hadn't been poisoned. There had been no numbness, no discoloration, no spread along the veins.

So how was this possible?

Could there be rabies in this world…?

The thought surfaced briefly, then vanished just as fast. The symptoms didn't match. Not even close.

Bruce studied the wound again, more carefully this time, letting his earlier reading resurface. The purple tint. The creeping numbness. The way it spread rather than burned.

Then it clicked.

His eyes sharpened.

Violetbane.

A poisonous shrub he had read about only hours earlier, its description still fresh in his memory. The effects listed in the texts matched this perfectly, down to the discoloration and the progressive paralysis.

But that made no sense.

The man had fought a wolf. Not a plant.

Did he come into contact with Violetbane thorns after being injured? Bruce wondered. Or did the wolf itself brush against Violetbane before attacking?

Either way, the conclusion was unavoidable.

Whatever the cause, this is Violetbane poison.

The two villagers who had brought the man, who soon identified himself as James, stood frozen at the side, watching with wide, anxious eyes as Bruce worked. Neither dared to speak, as if even a whisper might tip the situation further into disaster.

"How long has it been since you were injured?" Bruce asked without looking up.

"About… twenty minutes," James replied weakly.

Bruce nodded once, then lifted his gaze sharply. "Do you know Violetbane?"

James stiffened immediately, a shiver running through him despite the sweat soaking his clothes.

"That deadly poisonous plant?" he said, his voice tight and uneven. "One of the top twenty most lethal plants ever recorded? What does that have to do with this?"

Bruce met his gaze evenly. "It seems the poison didn't come from the wolf, but from Violetbane. Did you come into contact with it in any way? Was there any Violetbane around when you fought the feral wolf?"

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