Marvel: The Sorcerer in America

The patient being operated on was a pale-skinned boy, no more than seven or eight years old. His body lay weakly on the bed, his eyes closed, and his breathing unstable. An eerie silence hung in the room, as if every passing second increased the mounting tension.

What were they planning to do?

Cut open the boy's abdomen and sell his organs for money?

No! That was wrong!

Lance's eyes immediately turned cold as he sensed something far darker happening here. Within the boy's body, Lance could feel a faint trace of dark magic flowing—an illicit energy affecting the boy's fragile form.

At that moment, the young doctor who had led Lance inside anxiously asked, "Gest, how is the patient doing?"

A man who appeared to be the lead surgeon, still focused on the operation, answered calmly without lifting his head, "Fortunately, there has been no rejection so far."

The young doctor nodded, seeming slightly relieved, but the surgeon's tone remained tense. "Speed up the process. The guests will arrive soon, and we need to prepare enough product."

The surgeon shot the young doctor a sharp glance, his voice turning even colder. "You know how difficult it is to improve the success rate of this operation. Achieving a one in twenty success rate is the limit."

The young doctor scoffed with a cynical tone, "That's not my problem. You need to inform the boss about this. I'm just following orders."

The surgeon's tone remained unchanged—cold and resolute. "I'll inform the boss that you're allowed to leave."

The young doctor's face flushed with anger, but before he could retort, a strange voice echoed in his ear.

"Can you explain to me what you're doing?"

"Who?!" The young doctor was startled and quickly turned around, only to find a man standing next to him, his piercing gaze cutting through the air.

The two surgeons, who had been performing the operation, turned pale as they saw Lance standing there suddenly. They quickly averted their gazes, trying to avoid looking directly at him.

"Or…" Lance swung the pistol he had just taken from one of the security guards he had beaten. The gun gleamed under the dim hospital light. In a low, threatening voice, Lance addressed the two surgeons working on the operation. "No matter what you're doing, return the boy to his previous state for now, and immediately stitch up his wounds."

Lance didn't know what kind of operation these people were performing, but one thing Lance knew for sure: this was no ordinary procedure. Therefore, it was better to find out the real situation first.

The head surgeon carefully lifted the scalpel, his expression remaining calm despite the increasingly tense atmosphere. "You should not point a weapon at a doctor performing such a complicated surgery. If something goes wrong, the responsibility lies with you, not me."

Lance's lips curled into a cynical grin, his eyes flashing sharply as he stared at the doctor. "If something goes wrong, you'll die along with this child."

Suddenly, the young doctor let out a deafening scream, quickly removing the surgical mask from his face. Without warning, the man bit down on Lance's wrist with incredible strength.

The face that had once seemed ordinary changed in an instant.

The young doctor's mouth opened wide, revealing a row of sharp, white teeth, resembling those of a predator.

The man's face, which had once appeared human, was now revealed to be something far more terrifying.

...

...

...

"Bang!!"

"Uh!!!" The young doctor's eyes widened in shock, and blood began to drip from the corner of his mouth, mixing with broken teeth and foam that slowly bubbled out of his mouth. His body staggered, weak, as if unable to endure the profound pain coursing through him.

"Do you think your teeth are strong?" Lance said with a cold tone, before swiftly inserting the magical fan into the young doctor's mouth.

Without mercy, Lance twisted the young doctor's wrist with extraordinary force, then shoved the man's body to the ground with enough power to make him fall. Although the young doctor's body squirmed like an octopus trapped in a net, he could not break free from the unyielding grip of the magical fan that held him tightly.

Lance stared down at the "monster" still writhing before him. Lance quickly raised his left hand, then drew a complex seal from the thin air, sketching a pattern that could only be understood by those who had deep experience in magic. The strange form appeared and descended upon the monster's body, which was still struggling against the fan, but there was no change.

"Not a demon, and not magic either." Lance furrowed his brow, a sense of confusion clouding his thoughts. "By the way, who are you?"

This was the first time Lance had encountered something like this. There was no demonic aura, no trace of magic. Could the existence of this creature be the result of a previously unknown genetic mutation?

"Or…" A sudden tremor ran through Lance's heart, and he turned his gaze toward the responsible surgeon. "Now, can you tell me?"

No miracle manifested from the creature's body, but there was something else that caught Lance's attention—the surgeon.

The responsible surgeon appeared unnervingly calm, even more so than he should have been, while the man who was the head of the surgical team remained frozen, his eyes filled with curiosity, as if hypnotized by the magical fan in Lance's hand. "What is that? Is that some kind of magic?"

Lance raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the intensity of the reaction. "You really know magic?"

"I know magic! Of course, I know magic!" The head surgeon replied with enthusiasm, his eyes shining brightly, as though he couldn't contain his excitement.

With hands that trembled slightly, the man swung his scalpel, but there was something strange and erratic in the motion of his movement. "I've always wanted to learn magic and become a great Sorcerer, but they told me I wasn't qualified—I don't believe it! I don't believe it!!!"

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