Chapter 247: The Unbearable Weight Of Human Life

This was also probably why Fauna loved Mika with a devotion that went beyond words, beyond even reason itself.

He was her light, her anchor, the one who had pulled her from the edge of despair and given her life meaning again.

Without him, she would have been lost.

She pampered him endlessly, doted on him like he was the most precious thing in existence, and gave him whatever he wanted, no matter how trivial or extravagant.

To outsiders, her affection might have seemed excessive, but to those who knew her story, it made perfect sense.

Without Mika, she wouldn’t be the Fauna everyone admired today—the smiling woman who guided others. She would have still been trapped in that cycle of guilt and sorrow, carrying the weight of all those she couldn’t save.

He had brought her back from that darkness. He had been her Keeper of Light, true to his name—pulling her out of the storm of pain that had once consumed her.

The smile she wore now wasn’t one she forced for others. It was genuine. It was peaceful. It was his doing.

So yes—she cherished him beyond measure.

She loved him so deeply that she would have given her life for him a million times over without hesitation.

And if ever the choice came between Mika and the rest of the world...she wouldn’t think twice.

The same woman who had healed millions would burn that very world down if it meant saving him.

The other Battle Angels knew it too—they had seen that rare, terrifying side of her, and it was enough.

None of them ever wanted to see it again.

But most of the time, that part of Fauna stayed hidden, buried beneath her soft laughter and warmth.

The gentle, clumsy, affectionate side of her, the one Mika loved most.

He now looked down at her now, nestled comfortably in his lap, and couldn’t help but smile faintly. She looked so small in his arms, yet she carried so much—the hopes of the world, the pain of the past, the weight of countless lives.

His heart softened, and without thinking, he pulled her closer and hugged her.

The other doctors froze in place, their eyes wide.

The nurses at the far end of the ward turned pink, a few even covering their mouths to hide their gasps.

The sight of Lady Fauna—the untouchable saint—being held so intimately by a man was enough to send ripples of shock through the entire ward.

But Fauna wasn’t paying attention to any of that.

Her eyes were fixed on her disciples, on the four young doctors who now looked utterly devastated.

Their shoulders slumped, faces pale, especially Cecilia, whose spirit seemed shattered.

Most mentors would have let them rest, offered some hollow words of comfort and left it at that.

But Fauna wasn’t like most mentors. She didn’t believe in letting failures fade—she believed in transforming them.

So, while Mika leaned against her, content and teasingly sniffing at her hair, she looked up from his embrace and fixed her gaze on Cecilia.

"Cecilia." She said softly. "How about one more diagnosis to see who’s better?"

Cecilia looked up, startled. "One...more?"

Fauna smiled warmly. "Yes. One more."

Cecilia hesitated, a wry, defeated smile forming on her lips.

"After what I’ve seen today, Lady Fauna...I don’t think I stand a chance against him. Honestly, even I know my limits."

Fauna shook her head gently. "No, Cecilia. I believe in you. I think you can win this one."

Her tone was calm but full of conviction, the kind that reached straight into someone’s heart.

Cecilia blinked, hope flickering in her tired eyes.

"You really...think I can?"

"Of course." Fauna said brightly. "You’re my proud student, after all. I chose you because of your perseverance—because you never give up, no matter what. And I know you’ll shine when it matters most."

For the first time since the tests began, Cecilia smiled again—a small, shaky but real smile.

"Alright then." She said, determination reigniting in her chest. "I won’t let you down this time."

Mika sighed quietly, ready to object that he’d already proven his point and that he was done for the day.

But when he caught Fauna’s knowing gaze, he stopped.

There was something unspoken in her eyes, something he understood instantly. This wasn’t about competition anymore. It was about teaching.

So, he said nothing.

Fauna pointed toward another bed down the row—an elderly woman, asleep beneath crisp white sheets.

"That’s your next patient." She said. "Whoever diagnoses her first wins this little contest."

The room grew silent as Mika rolled over to the patient. The nurses who were there also followed, not to mention the doctors as well. Even the patients nearby turned their heads curiously.

Cecilia took a deep breath, gripping the clipboard like it was a sword. Mika, meanwhile, just sat there with Fauna still on his lap, looking relaxed—too relaxed, in fact, which only made Cecilia more irritated.

Everyone waited.

Fauna then smiled, raising her hand like a referee at the start of a match.

"Ready." She said softly.

"Set."

"Go."

Cecilia moved instantly.

She flipped through the patient’s chart, eyes darting from one line to another, heart pounding. Her gaze sharpened as she pieced together the symptoms.

It all clicked perfectly.

’I got it!’ She thought, a rush of pride flooding her chest.

Her lips curved into a grin as she raised her voice confidently.

"It’s congestive heart failure, secondary to long-term hypertension..."

She listed the cause and symptoms flawlessly. The other doctors nodded in agreement—yes, that was the correct diagnosis.

They had reviewed this case earlier; she was absolutely right.

And finally, Cecilia felt that rush of victory swell in her chest. She did it. She’d finally beaten him.

But before she could turn to celebrate, Fauna spoke softly—her tone so calm that it sent a chill through the room.

"Congratulations, Cecilia." She said with a serene smile. "You’ve just misdiagnosed your patient."

Cecilia froze, as the rest of the room stilled.

"And in doing so..." She continued quietly. "...you’ve killed her."

The words came out of nowhere so much so that it felt like the one’s hearing had just been whipped in the face out of her name. Cecilia especially bore the brunt of the mental attack.

Her idol, the woman she admired more than anyone, the one she had spent her entire career trying to emulate had just told her, in that soft, serene tone, that she had killed a patient.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her legs began to tremble uncontrollably, the clipboard slipping from her fingers and clattering against the floor.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. Sweat rolled down her neck as tears welled up, blurring her vision. She could barely breathe.

She gripped the hospital bed beside her for support, her chest heaving as her entire body shook.

The other doctors including the one’s who managed this ward, who had all nodded in agreement with her earlier diagnosis, looked equally stricken.

Their faces turned pale, guilt twisting their expressions. It felt as though Fauna’s words weren’t aimed at Cecilia alone, but at all of them.

Every one of them felt the weight of failure settle deep in their chests.

The once-bustling ward fell deathly silent. Even the patients nearby stopped whispering. The nurses exchanged nervous glances.

The atmosphere grew heavy, suffocating as Fauna sat there smiling.

But it wasn’t her usual warm, comforting smile.

This one was quiet. Too quiet. A smile that held authority, disappointment, and a quiet sadness that made it almost terrifying to look at. None of them dared to meet her eyes.

After a long moment, Fauna finally broke the silence.

Her voice was soft but carried through the room with unshakable clarity.

"Would you care to explain..." She said, turning her gaze toward Mika. "...why I called that a misdiagnosis, Mika?"

Mika didn’t look smug or happy. He wasn’t here to gloat. He simply nodded respectfully, almost like a student being asked to explain something before a class and replied, "Gladly."

He turned toward Cecilia, who was still trembling, and spoke in a calm, reassuring tone.

"You weren’t wrong to think it was a heart condition." He began. "It’s the natural assumption. The patient’s symptoms all point that way—shortness of breath, edema, faint cyanosis, fatigue. Any doctor would see those and think of congestive heart failure or something related."

He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.

"But..." He continued, his voice steady. "Medicine isn’t about what seems right. It’s about what is right. And that’s where this case goes deeper."

He looked down at the analysis and tests before going on to say,

"Surface-level analysis is what gets doctors into trouble. You can’t just stop at the obvious—you have to keep digging. If you’d looked closer, you’d have noticed certain inconsistencies in her test results. For example..."

He leaned forward slightly, his tone calm but instructive as he listed out a few discrepancies—elevated heavy metal traces in the blood, irregular neuron transmission levels, mild discoloration on the fingertips inconsistent with cardiac distress.

"All these..." He said. "...hint that something else is at play. Something much more complex."

"But if you don’t notice these, the basic symptoms will mislead you. They make you believe you’ve found the answer, but the truth lies a little deeper—in the history, in the smallest details you overlook."

The doctors listened in stunned silence, as he gestured toward the clipboard on the floor. One of the nurses quickly picked it up and handed it to him. Mika held it out toward Cecilia.

"Here. Read what’s written at the very bottom, out loud."

Her hands shook as she took the clipboard back. Her eyes darted down the page.

Finally, she whispered. "Patient’s person of admission: Raymond Joshua...husband. Age 74"

"Good." Mika said, nodding. "Now, right next to his name—what’s his listed occupation?"

Cecilia hesitated, frowning slightly as she read the next line. Her voice trembled.

"He...He was miner. He worked in the crystal mines at Sector 24 in the Ethereon Realm.."

And just like that, realization dawned on her face.

Her pupils widened.

The other doctors gasped softly as it hit them too.

Mika folded his arms, speaking evenly.

"That’s the detail you missed."

He took a roll closer to the bed, his voice calm, instructive.

"Over 25 years ago, a study was published about miners from that exact sector. They were extracting Etherion Crystals without proper protective equipment and apparently, the shards from those crystals would break down into microscopic fragments—sharp enough to embed themselves in the body."

"Over time, these microcrystals would accumulate, traveling through the bloodstream and embedding themselves in soft tissue."

He glanced back at Cecilia.

"The symptoms they caused were deceptive—chest pain, irregular heartbeat, fainting spells. On the surface, everything looked like a cardiac condition. But the real damage wasn’t in the heart."

"It was here. In the brain." He tapped lightly on the side of his head. "Those crystalline particles interfered with neural signals, causing systemic symptoms that mimicked cardiovascular disease."

"Eventually, they poisoned the patient’s system from the inside out."

Cecilia stared at him in horror. "So...she, she isn’t dying from heart failure...?"

Mika shook his head. "No. She’s suffering from crystalline neurotoxicity—a rare condition passed by indirect exposure to those same crystals. In this case, likely through her husband’s clothes, which still carried residual dust from the mines."

He looked around the room, his gaze sweeping over the young doctors and nurses.

"And this...is exactly why a patient’s family history and occupation are included in the intake form. It’s not just paperwork. It’s context."

"And it’s your responsibility as doctors to take that into consideration and consider every possibility, no matter how obscure, because sometimes..." His tone grew quiet, firm "...one overlooked line can mean the difference between life and death."

Mika let the silence hang for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle over them all.

Then, just as the tension grew too thick to bear, he gave a soft, almost wry chuckle, the kind that caught everyone off guard.

"Of course." He said, his voice lighter. "If we look at it another way, we could shift the blame, couldn’t we?"

Everyone looked up in confusion.

He leaned pulled Fauna up closer, and continued in a casual tone.

"I mean, if you think about it, the patient’s husband worked in those mines himself. He lived through the outbreak of that condition. He saw what it did to his co-workers."

"So technically, shouldn’t he have told you?"

"Shouldn’t he have remembered the condition, warned the doctors, explained what the crystals did?"

He smiled faintly.

"We could easily say this is his fault. After all, he’s the one who forgot—who panicked—who left out a piece of history that could’ve saved her life."

The doctors glanced at one another uneasily. For a brief moment, the idea almost seemed comforting—as if the blame could be pushed somewhere else.

But then Mika’s tone shifted. His smile faded. His eyes sharpened.

"But at the end of the day..." He said quietly. "...someone is still dying."

The change in his voice made every hair on their necks stand. He looked at them each in turn, his gaze steady, merciless but not cruel.

"And when that happens..." He went on. "...it doesn’t matter who forgot, who panicked, or who didn’t fill the form right. The one who failed to see it, the one who stood here and called it something else will always carry the guilt."

He paused, letting his words sink in before finally saying.

"Because in the end, it’s you. The doctor. The one who was supposed to notice and failed your patient who trusted you."

Mika rested his case and hearing all this, Cecilia’s breathing became unsteady. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest.

She wanted to say something—anything—but no words came out. Her throat felt dry, her eyes burned, and before she knew it, tears were spilling down her cheeks.

She clutched the hem of her coat with trembling fingers, unable to meet his eyes.

’I killed...a patient?’

The thought echoed endlessly in her mind. Her knees gave out slightly, and she had to grab the bedside rail to stop herself from falling.

Her mind swirled, she could barely hear anything else. The guilt was crushing her.

The other doctors weren’t doing any better.

All of them had their heads bowed low, hands clasped in front of them like students awaiting judgment. One even had tears streaming silently down her face.

It wasn’t just embarrassment...It was real, deep remorse.

Mika’s words had stripped away every wall of pride they had as doctors, leaving behind only raw humility.

Cecilia, however, felt something deeper. Something breaking.

Her heart thudded painfully as she thought back on everything—all the years she’d spent studying, the sleepless nights, the pride she’d felt when patients thanked her, the confidence she had when she walked through the wards.

And now...all of that felt meaningless.

’How could I call myself a doctor...’ She thought miserably. ’...when I could have killed someone?’

Her vision blurred as she bit her lip hard to stop herself from sobbing. Every ounce of her strength was going into keeping her composure.

Across from her, Fauna watched silently, her face unreadable. But in her eyes, beneath that calm exterior—there was something tender, even proud.

Because this was exactly what she had wanted her disciples to understand. That medicine wasn’t about glory or intellect or competition.

It was about carrying the unbearable weight of human lives with sincerity and humility.

And as Cecilia trembled, questioning her worth, Fauna knew this was the moment she’d truly taken her first step toward becoming a real doctor.