A Hospital in Another World? - Chapter 295

The miraculous plant growth spell—no, rather, the microbial growth enhancer—gave Garrett Nordmark the confidence to embark on the penicillin project. And indeed, this divine magic did not disappoint him; within a week, the propagated penicillin fungi had multiplied to a sufficient quantity for experimentation.

The apprentices from the God of Nature cult, too, had bred enough mice for them to extravagantly conduct an experiment…

In the dissection room on the sub-first floor of the Mage Tower, 24 apprentices were divided among six experimental tables, each facing a cage of mice. Among the crowd, two young priests from the God of Nature whispered nervously:

“Use it sparingly… be careful not to accidentally kill them…”

Heaven help them, their experience in raising mice was one of tears and sorrow. Specialized breeding companies? None. Specially formulated mouse feed? None. Mice with stable traits, free of germs, and bred for several generations in the laboratory? None…

The priests had to dig into mouse holes themselves, capture the mice, and then let the female mice breed. To calm the nervous and frightened mice, they used animal affinity; without knowing the proper feed ratio, they utilized animal communication skills; to ensure the mice were germ-free, they applied healing spells daily. The priests’ healing spells were limited, and they were reluctant to use them on themselves, preferring to use them all on the mice.

These mice, dearly nurtured by the priests, could rightly be considered their precious treasures. Now, using 120 of them for an experiment was simply unheard of!

However, when Garrett ordered their use, resistance was not an option. The four priest apprentices could only stand by the table, watching Garrett demonstrate with sad eyes:

Lift the mouse by its tail with the right hand, placing it on the lid of the mouse cage;

As the mouse struggles forward, grasp its ears and the skin of its neck with the left thumb and index finger;

With the mouse behind the palm of the left hand, secure its back skin and tail with the ring and little fingers…

“Got it? The movements must be steady and accurate. If you don’t catch it right the first time, let go and try again, and be careful of bites!—Now, each of you catch one!”

This directive was like pouring a ladle of cold water into boiling oil. Suddenly, the dissection room erupted into noise, with 20 out of the 24 students exclaiming in panic:

“Ouch! It bit me!”

“It got away! It got away!”

“Mr. Troka! Help!—No, don’t kill it!”

“Ahhh! I squeezed its poop out!”

The four priests from the God of Nature looked at each other. How could catching a mouse be problematic? Isn’t it just a matter of reaching out and grabbing?

Garrett was well-prepared for this. At the beginning of their animal experiments, his classmates had been just as clueless, no better than these spellcasters. With immense patience, he moved from table to table, offering guidance:

“Quick and precise when grabbing the tail!”

“No, don’t grab at the base! Grab the middle section of the tail!”

“You don’t need to pull that hard… why would you want to tear its tail off?”

“If all else fails, just spin it around to make it dizzy… hey, how did you let it slip from your grasp! Mr. Troka, please help catch it!”

“Then pinch its ears… not the neck! Don’t press! Don’t pull!!!”

With a crack, the mouse died…

Garrett massaged his forehead. Pulling the mouse’s tail while pressing on its neck is a method to kill a mouse, student! I haven’t even taught that lesson yet!

“Alright, catch another one… it’s good that I prepared extra…”

Just the act of catching the mice resulted in all sorts of chaos (during which Mr. Troka was quite popular). Finally, after much stumbling, the experiment proceeded to subcutaneous injections of Staphylococcus aureus into the mice.

Garrett demonstrated once again. What should have been a simple subcutaneous injection—far simpler than intraperitoneal or intracranial injections—required him to inspect each table again, correcting every mistake the apprentices made:

“Keep your hand steady! The more the mouse struggles, the steadier your hand must be!—Stop!… Too late, you poked yourself…”

“Don’t squeeze so hard! The mouse won’t escape… well, it’s dead, get another one!”

“Insert the needle flatly, not vertically! Not at an angle!—See, you poked your own finger!”

“Don’t insert the needle too deep! Wait—look at that blood spurting! Did you puncture a major artery or what?”

“Subcutaneous! Flat insertion, then lift the needle slightly! Flat lift, not tilting the needle upwards! Ah, you’ve punctured

the skin… never mind, try a different spot for the injection!”

This task, effortless for the skilled, turned chaotic for the novices. Despite being fully prepared, Garrett was still driven to frustration, his blood pressure spiking by 20 mmHg.

After much effort, the subcutaneous injection experiment was finally completed, having resulted in the death of 10 mice, four students poking their fingers, countless accidents like overturning penicillin vials, and breaking syringes. Ultimately, 80 mice survived and entered the observation phase…

“How are the mice today?”

“Normal.”

“Normal.”

“Mine too, normal.”

The students remained calm. The mice were still normal on the second day, and on the third…

“It’s not eating much!”

“It’s hardly moving!”

“It looks so listless!”

By the fourth and fifth days, the mice’s condition worsened. By the sixth day, at least half the groups reported aggravated symptoms in the mice, with their faces gradually turning blue and deepening in color.

“Its belly is turning purple too! The spot where the needle went in is all purple!”

“Sir, is it dying?”

The four priests from the God of Nature cult, along with two apprentices from the Temple of the War God, eagerly awaited Garrett’s word. Garrett took a deep breath:

“Not necessarily.—Bring out our cultured penicillin!”

They divided the sick mice into four groups: one group received oral penicillin, another received subcutaneous injections of penicillin, another was treated with divine magic… and one group was left untreated for control. The apprentices, wishing they could live in the lab, watched the mice intently…

“Oral penicillin group. This one’s gone…”

“Oral group. This one seems gone too.” A mage picked up a mouse for observation. A priest from the God of Nature turned his head, glaring at him. The mage shrugged:

“What’s the matter? I’m a Necromancer. Our animal affinity might not be great, but we’re highly sensitive to the presence of death!”

“Subcutaneous injection group.—Hey, sir, this one seems a bit better!”

With a rush, all 24 students in the dissection room crowded around, making it 25. The extra one was Andrew Lynn, who stretched his thin arms from the outskirts, desperately squeezing in:

“Right, right, it does seem better! The scent of death is not as strong!”

A day later, of the 20 mice in the subcutaneous injection group, 18 were lively and had escaped death. This therapeutic effect was second only to the divine magic group’s 20/20, far surpassing the oral group and control group, which all died.

“Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen,” Garrett clapped his hands to draw the students’ attention:

“You have successfully discovered a natural product that can effectively treat diseases in areas unreachable by divine magic. Now, let’s continue our research to determine the proper dosage of this product and how to make it into a medication for long-distance transport!”

“Yay!”

“Hooray!”

“We did it!”

Surgical caps of white, gray, and blue soared towards the ceiling.

Garrett allowed the students to freely choose their surgical cap materials, as long as they securely covered the hair without hindering operations. During the celebration, he even spotted two flashes of green, rising and falling in tandem…

After the brief celebration, the students reentered the lengthy experimental process. This time, more culture mediums were produced to cultivate penicillin—sugar agar, blood agar, beef extract agar, malt extract agar, corn flour agar, potato sucrose agar…

The entire laboratory, no, the entire Mage Tower, seemed to turn into a giant kitchen. Steaming, boiling, simmering, crushing, filtering… the lab was constantly filled with steam, and if the students didn’t feel like eating, they could practically fill up on the culture mediums.

Of course, nobody actually did that. As Leon Carlos put it:

“I knew malt extract smelled bad, but I had no idea beef extract was even worse… ugh, that smell…”

Garrett allowed the students to use their imagination to try various formulas. Waste was inevitable, but the Mage Tower had an Elemental Fire Pool that provided endless heat; agar, beef, sheep’s blood, and more could be bought in bulk for just one contribution point, making expenses negligible. Corn, potatoes, and the like?

Even cheaper!

In the midst of this production frenzy, the four apprentices from the God of Nature became leaders among the students. Especially the girl who had brought in the wild boar, she hardly made culture mediums anymore, instead spending two hours daily wandering the lab, half-closing her eyes, sensing each petri dish:

“This one… no good. It barely grows.”

“This one… grows a bit slow, but worth observing.”

“This one grows fast.”

“This one… can you increase the temperature a bit?”

The biological affinity of priests from the God of Nature

was always reliable—Garrett being the exception. In ten days, they had eliminated all meat and blood materials, focusing on corn flour, corn slurry, corn starch, wheat flour, potato flour…

By this stage, over half of the 24 students were exhausted, their features distorted. Garrett himself felt overwhelmed and generously allowed them to take a break:

“Rest well for two days. When you return, we’ll start a new project!”

The students cheered and scattered. Garrett, too, couldn’t wait to leave the Mage Tower for some fresh air by the sea. After being cooped up in the lab for so long without even seeing the sun, he needed to get out before he developed a vitamin D deficiency!

Garrett thoroughly enjoyed his half-day of play. Upon returning to the Mage Tower, he was struck with a shocking discovery:

The penicillin strain had been stolen.

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