I Refused To Be Reincarnated
Chapter 690: Beneath the Bloodied Table

Chapter 690: Beneath the Bloodied Table

"D-Don’t enter!"

Despite her plea and the mana she blasted against the door to keep it shut, it creaked open, unaffected by her resistance.

Adam felt the wood grow heavier, sprouting stakes that splintered the ground to stop him, as sharp like a thousand needle thorns tried to pierce his palm. They reeked of mustiness, coated with lethal toxins that could put even a towering beast to sleep in a matter of seconds. But not him.

He clenched his fist, crushing the needles that couldn’t pierce his skin. Slightly off, crunching noises echoed. But he dismissed them to focus on the door. Met with his unparalleled strength, the stakes gouged the floor with unsettling rattles.

The witch’s voice reverberated in pleas, excuses, and threats—all diversions he ignored. Instead, his right hand blurred to swat the wooden darts whistling towards his face while his feet stomped on emerging spikes, shattering them like powerless branches.

With each spell he destroyed, his curiosity grew a little more. Like William, she was an archmage. Unlike him, however, she seemed to channel her mana through existing entities in a symbiotic way. Not only did their natural resilience and potency increase, but she also granted them new effects, which revealed deep botanical knowledge and splendid control.

Eager to learn her secrets, he watched the interior unravel, the curved walls on the right side first. A fireplace, from which a ventilation pipe extended across the wall, crackled near a vermilion carpet. On it, a reclining chair covered in multicolored woollen scarves and loose tunics of different sizes almost toppled under their weight.

He frowned, wondering if she had a habit of losing and gaining weight, but nodded at the cosy place as he continued to push.

The center almost made him feel like he had stepped into another house... except maybe for the parchments sprawled on the floor and broad table. Even worse, the sight of utensils tossed aside like mere disposable items appalled him.

And then there was the thick crust coating a rusted cauldron... He slammed the door open, unable to suppress the annoyance stirring within his crafter’s soul. Alchemy, no matter in what world or form, followed strict rules. Hygiene was the first one, and he would not tolerate any breach!

As soon as he saw the right side of the room, his open mouth closed, and a surprised gasp drowned the stinging remark about to burst from his throat.

He blinked once, then twice, his mind grappling... No, it was reeling in horror. His nose scrunched in disgust, and his heart trembled in rage. Because he saw a table covered in burgundy stains. The lingering stench left no doubt, nor did the metallic cuffs and leathery neck holder crowning the top. They were dried blood stains, some still sparkling a faint liquid crimson.

’Either an operation table or a torture device. It was recently used.’ His eyes narrowed into slits, all traces of playfulness gone from his face. ’I hope it’s the former.’

His neutral opinions of the witch veered into the negative as he scanned the room for the weakest life force he picked up. And there, under the table, small, curled into a whimpering ball, he saw a young girl. Or what remained of her.

Sparse strands of blond hair grew from a putrid scalp. Stitches seeping pus separated her arms from her shoulders and legs from her tights. Skin pigmentation, bone density, nerves, length, they were too different, too unnatural.

He couldn’t see the rest, but guessed it was the same—something horrible he didn’t want to think about, but had to. The witch had played with that child’s body, grafting foreign parts into her like changing a doll’s limbs.

His eyes flashed a sky-blue light, piercing through her skin and muscles.

What he witnessed only fueled his rage.

Parasitic insects scurried faster than blood in her own body. They gnawed at her flesh and laid eggs inside her muscles. The discomfort she should feel was beyond his imagination. But what he could imagine was confronting the witch on her behalf. That’s the least he could do for this innocent child.

He snapped his eyes up, mana and qi wafting from them. Not wisps, a raging torrent mirroring his emotions.

Adam scrutinised the youthful woman, short but slender. Her loose white tunic did nothing to hide her perfect proportions and healthy skin. She returned his gaze, her red irises constricted and thin brows creased into a deep furrow.

He would have found her scarlet hair attractive under any other circumstance. Yet he saw only the demon beneath her beauty.

"You have five seconds to convince me. Make them count." He raised five fingers, then initiated the countdown by curling one—a countdown to ruin felt by the shuddering witch.

"I-It’s not what it looks like. She needed medication for her parents. T-Trust me. She offered her service in return for my aid—nothing more, nothing less. An agreement, a deal she leapt on to save those she loves!"

Adam remained silent, another finger curling down.

The message wasn’t lost on her. This wasn’t enough to convince him, but she knew how to leverage the situation. Anger had a source; addressing it would naturally resolve it. Gritting her teeth, she continued, her voice growing forceful, marked by righteousness.

"I’ve been working like this for two hundred and fifty years. The people I’ve saved are uncountable, but you know it—everyone does—nothing comes for free in this realm. Think about it. I’m an expert botanist and alchemist. No one matches me among the rogue mages, so what I did to her, I can undo it anytime I want. Or will you kill me?"

Her lips curved into a smirk. "Suit yourself. You’re powerful but know nothing. I guarantee she’ll die in under a month in the most gruelling way without me, not to mention her parents still need my treatment. Will you condemn them all because of your anger?" She turned to the girl, her voice commanding. "Come out and tell him I only spoke the truth."

The girl crawled from beneath the table. She stumbled, her weak steps and hideous face breaking Adam’s heart into hundreds of pieces—then a thousand, then a million—when she tried to smile but only managed a crooked grimace.

"She saved my parents... I-I owe her. So please... don’t be mad at her."