Chapter 325: What He Chooses to Tell

Chapter 325: What He Chooses to Tell

"Tell me about the combat awakening," Dr. Alcott said. "The footage only shows me the outside."

Jin had spent the walk to her office deciding how much of the inside she needed.

Glitch’s veterinary records lay open on her desk, beside a summary of Jin’s treatment. The wall screen showed a paused frame from the semifinal. He recognized the moment before the roar and looked away before his mind supplied what followed.

"He learned a new skill during the fight," Jin said. "It pushed him one beyond his normal capacity. Using it put more strain on him than he could handle."

The specialist made a note.

"Spontaneously?"

"Under pressure. He hadn’t been practicing it."

"That does happen," Alcott said. "Rarely. The change in the footage is consistent with a combat awakening."

She turned to the recovery records.

Jin waited for a question about the skill’s name, or a request to list everything Glitch could do. Neither came. He had given her a limited account that explained the visible strain; his beast’s actual ten-skill load and the Engine stayed private.

Alcott asked about Glitch’s appetite before the semifinal, his sleep afterward, and how long he could hold his head up now. Those questions were easy to answer.

"He’s eating everything," Jin said. "He’d eat more if the veterinary team let him."

"Does he seem uncomfortable afterward?"

"No. Annoyed when they take the trough away."

A small smile appeared as she entered that into her notes. "That’s useful."

Alcott replaced the frozen battle with a diagram of an Astral Core and the pathways carrying energy through a beast’s body.

"His surface wounds and his internal strain won’t recover at the same rate," she said. "You can already see that in the reports."

"The dressings look better every day. He still struggles to get comfortable."

"His body was supporting an unfamiliar ability beyond what a typical Silver foundation carries safely. Then he used it under extreme exertion." Alcott indicated several areas on the diagram. "Closing a cut doesn’t tell us whether these structures can tolerate that load again."

Jin leaned forward. "Can they recover completely?"

"The current trend gives us reason to expect substantial recovery. I won’t promise more before we’ve examined his response to rehabilitation." She brought up the most recent readings. "These are improving. Slowly is acceptable. We want improvement that lasts."

He followed the comparison while she explained which changes mattered and which could vary between checks. For once, the numbers gave him something to understand beyond whether the day had been good or bad.

"His regeneration helps," she added. "It doesn’t make the rest of his treatment optional."

"I know," Jin said. "He doesn’t."

"You’ll have to be the patient one, then."

That sounded like an unfortunate arrangement for everyone involved.

"When he’s recovered," Jin asked, "what does this mean for Rank 2?"

Alcott folded her hands. "He’s at the peak of 9-Star. That makes him eligible to prepare, once he’s fit. It doesn’t make a breakthrough the next treatment."

"I wasn’t going to try it now."

"Good. Some people do." Her tone stayed matter-of-fact. "His Core supplies most of the energy for the joint foundation. Forming your Bond Core and completing the awakening will demand far more than an ordinary exercise session. Existing damage can become a serious problem under that load."

"So healing first."

"Then rehabilitation. Then assessment. We decide what preparation he needs from what we actually find."

Jin looked at the paused progress chart. He had spent so long chasing 9-Star that reaching it had felt like the last thing between him and the next Rank.

Now he had reached it, and the lizard who had carried him there needed help turning over.

You can wait. You’ve got a better room to wait in, at least.

"What can I do in the meantime?" he asked.

"Follow the veterinary plan. Keep records of his movement and recovery afterward. Tell them if he becomes reluctant to put weight on a limb, even if he was happy to walk the previous day."

"Can I use my appraisal alongside their readings?"

"Yes. Report what you see. Don’t increase his exercise because one reading looks encouraging."

That was fair. He had been about to ask whether he could do exactly that.

The material shortlist occupied one page.

Alcott had grouped the possibilities by what they were intended to support: the body’s structural strength, tolerance of energy flow, Core stability, and more general foundation development.

Jin read each description twice.

"These are candidates from the kind of resources available through your entitlement," she said. "They aren’t prescriptions."

"Which looks best?"

"I don’t know yet."

He looked up, caught off guard by the straightforward answer.

"I’ve reviewed his history," Alcott continued. "I haven’t assessed his foundation under controlled exertion. Once he’s ready, I can examine where support would be useful and what his body can safely accept."

"And that helps with the skill strain?"

"A stronger foundation may tolerate the burden better. It doesn’t give you permission to repeat the same exertion and assume the consequences will disappear."

Jin traced a finger down the page. "Could one of these make things worse if I chose badly?"

"If it’s unsuitable, or introduced before he’s ready, yes. That’s why we wait."

He had hoped she would point at something and tell him that was the answer. Instead she was giving him reasons not to buy anything yet.

Annoyingly, they were good reasons.

"Will waiting affect the allocation?" he asked.

"I’ll send Marris a recommendation to hold the selection until the assessment. Your recovery is documented. There shouldn’t be difficulty arranging that."

Jin nodded and saved a copy of the shortlist.

"Keep that," Alcott said when he tried to return the paper. "Read it when you’re rested. If you have questions, send them before our next meeting."

He folded it carefully. It felt good to have something he could work on that wouldn’t hurt either of them.

Before he left, Alcott returned to his own medical summary.

"Are you still receiving treatment for the blood depletion?"

"Yes. They’ve got another check booked, and blood support if they think I need it."

"Keep those appointments. I can’t explain that result from Glitch’s injuries alone." She closed the summary. "Your doctor’s handling your recovery. My advice about strengthening his foundation shouldn’t be taken as an explanation for what happened to you."

"I understand," Jin said.

He hadn’t expected her to solve it. Still, a small part of him had hoped she would recognize something obvious everyone else had missed.

The Engine’s record remained the most specific clue he had: abnormal strain when the Heart ended. Its involvement still seemed likely to him. He had no clearer idea of the mechanism after the consultation than before it.

At least he understood more about how to help Glitch.

That was enough for one morning.

Back in his quarters, Jin found the lizard watching the doorway.

"You’d like her," he said, sitting beside the bedding. "She asks sensible questions about food."

Glitch lifted his head a little higher than yesterday. Jin noticed, reached for him, and resisted the urge to see how long he could hold it there.

Alcott’s instructions were still fresh enough to be irritating.

"Don’t look at me. I’m learning too."

Flicker called from her rail. Glitch settled again, and Jin opened the shortlist while resting his other hand behind the horn ridge.

The four options sounded promising. His appraisal might eventually help him compare particular materials, but it couldn’t replace knowing what the damaged foundation needed first. He began typing a question about how the structural support differed from the general tonic, stopped, and reread the descriptions.

The answer was already there.

Excellent start. Very impressive student.

He wrote down a better question instead.

His phone buzzed with a message from Arthur.

[Brace clinic confirmed for Thursday at ten. Your mother and I can come for the appointment and view the Coldwell flat afterward. Elsa’s coming too.]

[Your mother wants to know if you’re eating.]

Jin glanced at the lunch tray waiting on his desk.

He ate three bites before replying that he was, then asked his father to send the clinic address.

Glitch watched the spoon with renewed interest.

"No," Jin told him. "You have your own."

Arthur sent the address, followed by a photograph of the brace fitting records.

Jin opened the image. For once, the next appointment wasn’t about something he had broken.