RNP Chapter 284 Qualified Doctors Rebel!
Chapter 284 Qualified Doctors Rebel!
Chapter 284 Qualified Doctors Rebel!
The slums on Saturn Island are located on the outermost edge of the town, right next to a garbage dump and sewers.
The place was crammed with low, dilapidated shacks, and the air was thick with the stench of decay and disease.
Unlike the relatively clean slave labor areas in towns, the slaves here were mostly old, weak, sick, or disabled, who had lost their ability to work and were abandoned by their masters to fend for themselves.
The pointer of the Spirit Origin Detector spun wildly here, but the signal was extremely weak and intermittent.
"It's nearby." Moria frowned.
"But the signal is very erratic, as if it's being interfered with by something."
Spartacus remained silent, his gaze sweeping over the shacks.
He saw eyes peering through the cracks in the shed, eyes that held fear, vigilance, and curiosity.
He also saw some simple herbs and bandages placed at the entrance of some shacks, indicating that someone was treating the injured there.
"A doctor has been here," Rebecca said softly.
They continued deeper and finally, in front of a dilapidated hut that was slightly larger than the others, the detector signal stabilized.
right here.
Moria gestured for the zombie soldiers to stand guard around the area, then stepped forward and knocked on the door.
no respond.
He frowned and pushed the door open.
Inside the door, a gaunt middle-aged man was kneeling on the ground, holding a dying child in his arms.
Lying on the bed next to her was an elderly woman with white hair, also breathing very weakly.
Upon seeing the three uninvited guests, especially Spartacus's terrifying figure, the man trembled with fear and kowtowed repeatedly.
"My lord, my lord, spare us! We have nothing! Please, spare my child and mother—"
Rebecca felt a pang of sadness and quickly stepped forward: "Don't be afraid, we're not here to hurt you."
The man looked up and saw that there was a young girl among the newcomers. He calmed down slightly, but remained wary.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?"
Moria stepped forward, raising the detector: "This indicates that you, or someone close to you, are a participant in the Holy Grail War. Tell me, where is your Heroic Spirit?"
The man's face turned deathly pale instantly.
"I...I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Don't play dumb." Moria's voice turned cold.
"You should know about the Holy Grail War, right? It's all over the sea. Those who are qualified to summon Heroic Spirits will have Command Seals on their wrists."
"Stretch out your hand."
The man instinctively hid his hands behind his back.
This action says it all.
Moria gestured for the zombie soldiers to come forward, preparing to forcibly search them.
That's enough.
Spartacus spoke.
He walked up to the man and squatted down; even so, he was still taller than the standing man.
Those burning eyes stared directly into the man's terrified pupils.
"We are not here to seize the qualification," Spartacus said in a deep voice. "We simply wish to discuss cooperation peacefully."
The man trembled and remained silent.
The old woman on the bed suddenly started coughing, coughing so badly that it seemed like she was going to cough up her lungs.
The man rushed over to take care of her, frantically pouring some herbs from a broken jar nearby and feeding them to his mother.
Rebecca noticed that the herbs were very fresh and professionally prepared, unlike anything one would find in a slum.
"Your mother and child are very ill," she said softly.
"Someone helped them, didn't they? A doctor?"
The man's body stiffened.
"That doctor, is the person you're supposed to protect?" Rebecca continued to ask.
"He pulled your family back from the brink of death, so you're willing to keep it a secret for him and even take risks for him."
The man's shoulders slumped.
He knelt on the ground, his voice choked with sobs: "Please—please don't go to the doctor—he's a good man—"
"He saved many people in the slums—slaves, commoners, even some lowly guards—he would treat anyone who was sick or injured."
"He never takes money. He saved my child and my mother—without him, they would have died long ago—"
The man looked up, tears streaming down his dirty face.
"So—I gave him the qualification. I know that qualification is very precious; many people kill for it—"
"But I'm just a slave, what use is that to me? It would only be a hindrance—"
"But the doctor is different. He can go to sea, has such good medical skills, and is so kind."
'
"If he could obtain the power of heroic spirits, he could definitely save even more people—"
Moria frowned: "You gave him the qualification?"
"I...I don't know either—" The man shook his head.
"I just hope he can gain the power to save more people, and then the mark on my hand will disappear—"
He said he was qualified for the summons, but needed time to prepare.
Spartacus and Moria exchanged a glance.
Voluntary transfer? This is the first time I've heard of such a thing.
Normally, the transfer of Command Seals requires a special ceremony or forced removal, but if it is given by the Master from the bottom of their heart, it may really be possible?
"What's the doctor's name? What does he look like? Where is he now?" Moria pressed.
The man kept his mouth shut and shook his head frantically.
"I won't say it—I'd rather die—"
A fierce glint flashed in Moria's eyes, and he was about to lash out.
That's enough.
This time, it was Rebecca who spoke.
She walked up to the man and took out some dry food and medicine from her bosom, which she had specially prepared before setting off.
"These are for you, for the children and the elderly." She placed the items on the ground and then turned to look at Moria and Spartacus.
"Let's go. He's already said the qualification doesn't belong to him, and it was given to that doctor. There's no point in pressing him any further."
Moria said sullenly, "We need to find that doctor—"
"He said he was a kind person who saved many people," Rebecca interrupted him.
"If that's the case, why should we use violence against a kind person? We should go to him and talk things out, instead of threatening him."
Spartacus nodded: "I agree. Oppressing the weak is not what we should do."
Moria looked at the two of them, then at the trembling man, and finally let out a cold snort.
"Fine, you're merciful. But if you can't find that doctor, or if the doctor has already been won over by other forces, don't regret it later."
He put away the detector, turned around, and walked out of the shed.
Rebecca took one last look at the man and his ailing family, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside her.
On this island, there are brutal rulers and apathetic slaves, but there are also people like that doctor who persist in shining their light in the darkness.
She suddenly understood what Spartacus had said earlier.
Resistance is not only about destruction, but also about protection.
Protect those kind, vulnerable people who uphold the light of humanity even in the face of oppression.
The three left the slum and found a secluded spot nearby to rest for the time being.
Moria fiddled with the detector, his brow furrowed: "The signal has completely disappeared."
"Either the doctor has already left the island, or he has some way of completely concealing his presence."
Rebecca analyzed, "The man said the doctor needed more time to prepare," perhaps the summoning ritual wasn't complete yet?
Spartacus remained silent.
He sat on a huge rock, gazing at the white castle in the distance.
The castle gleamed in the sunlight, a stark contrast to the surrounding dilapidated slums.
Everything he had seen that day kept replaying in his mind.
Guards who whipped slaves.
A numb, empty gaze.
Sick and frail elderly people and children in the slums.
The man who trembled with fear yet persevered in protecting his benefactor.
And then there's the doctor who persisted in saving lives even in such a hellish place.
"I've made up my mind."
Spartacus suddenly spoke, his voice deep and thunderous.
Moriah and Rebecca both looked at him.
"I will liberate this island." Spartacus stood up, his massive body casting a huge shadow. "Now, immediately."
Moria's eyes widened: "Are you crazy?! Our mission is to find the participants—"
"It's just a task; there are more important things to do."
Spartacus interrupted him, his burning eyes blazing with an intensity never before seen.
"I am Spartacus. The embodiment of rebellion, the symbol of slave revolt. When I see oppression, injustice, and the treatment of mankind as livestock—I cannot turn a blind eye."
He looked at Rebecca.
"Contractor, you asked me what true freedom is. Now, I will show you."
Rebecca's heart began to pound.
She saw Spartacus's body begin to change.
It wasn't the outward appearance, but something deeper. It was as if countless voices were shouting within him, as if countless souls were burning within him.
That is the anger of all the oppressed throughout the ages.
That is the will of all the rebels.
"My purpose in being is to resist oppression." Spartacus's voice grew louder and louder, as if countless people were speaking at the same time.
"My Noble Phantasm is not the power of one person, but the condensation of the will of all those who resist."
He raised his hand and pointed to the castle in the distance.
"Watch closely, contractor. This is what the flames of rebellion look like when they ignite."
Moria's expression changed drastically: "Wait! If you act now, it will disrupt all our plans! What about Doflamingo—"
"The flamingo's thoughts are none of my concern." Spartacus grinned, a wild and ferocious smile.
"I hear only one voice, the voice of my own heart, and the cry of all the oppressed."
He looked down at Rebecca.
"You once asked whether slaves would choose to rebel. Now, I will tell you the answer—"
"They will."
"Because when someone raises the banner of resistance first, when someone proves that the oppressor is not invincible—"
'
"The spark buried deep in the soul will ignite a prairie fire."
Rebecca took a deep breath.
She looked at Spartacus, at this follower, this berserker, this symbol of rebellion.
Then she smiled.
A bright smile, a smile of relief.
"I understand, Mr. Spartacus." She gripped the hilt of her sword. "I'll go with you."
"Rebecca!" Moria snapped, "Have you gone mad, little girl?!"
"No, I'm perfectly sober." Rebecca turned to Moria. "Mr. Moria, please tell Doflamingo—"
"Tell him to inform the revolutionary army that they will come to take over the island tomorrow."
"Because today, this island will be reborn."
Moria was stunned.
He looked at Rebecca, at the girl he had always thought of as weak and timid.
Now her eyes are as firm as iron, and her back is as straight as a sword.
He then looked at Spartacus.
The berserker's body is undergoing an astonishing transformation.
Muscles swelled, veins bulged, and countless blood-red lines appeared on the skin's surface, as if flames were burning inside.
His aura rose steadily, and the surrounding air distorted and trembled.
That was a sign of a Noble Phantasm.
"Damn it—" Moria gritted his teeth, but in the end, he made a decision.
He took a few steps back and blended into the shadows.
"Do as you please. I'll pass on the message. But if you die, don't blame me for not warning you."
After saying that, he disappeared completely into the shadows.
Rebecca looked at Spartacus: "Mr. Spartacus, what do we do?"
Spartacus grinned, a grin that almost stretched to his ears.
"It's very simple."
He bent down and gently placed Rebecca on his broad shoulders.
"Hold on tight, Contractor."
Then, he took a deep breath—
He roared to the sky!
"Guests, guests, guests, pictures!!!!!"
The roar, like the fury of an ancient behemoth, instantly echoed throughout the entire island!
The earth trembled!
The air was buzzing!
People in the slums peered out in terror, the town's guards looked around frantically, and the nobles in the castle panicked.
But with Spartacus, the real change began.
His body began to swell, not simply to grow larger, but as if countless figures were pouring out of his body and merging into it.
Those are the souls of the oppressed, the will of the rebels, and all the wronged souls who have cried out in the darkness for thousands of years.
Three meters, four meters, five meters —
His height has exceeded several tens of meters, and it is still growing!
On the skin's surface, those blood-red lines ignited, transforming into tangible flames.
That was no ordinary flame; it was a flame of anger, a flame of rebellion, a flame of yearning for freedom!
"My name is Spartacus!"
His voice boomed like thunder over the island!
"He was once a slave, a gladiator, and a leader of a resistance!"
"My whole life has been a struggle—a struggle against fate, against oppression, against all injustice!"
"Today, here and now, I raise the banner of resistance once more!"
"All the oppressed, all those who yearn for freedom, all those who are resentful"
"Look at me!"
"Behold this flame of rebellion!"
"Then--
—
"Burn with me!!!"
boom!!!!
He moved.
With just one step, the earth cracked and rocks flew everywhere!
In his second step, he had already rushed hundreds of meters, heading straight for the castle!
The guards along the way tried to stop them, but before they could get close, they were blasted away by the terrifying aura!
The arrows struck him as if they were hitting steel, snapping in two!
The cannons roared, and the shells struck his body, but he was reduced to ashes in the flames!
Unstoppable!
Unrivaled!
This is a Noble Phantasm!
【Roar, my rebellious soul (CryingWarmonger)】!
It's not an attack on the city, nor on the army, but a special attack on the very concept of oppression!
The deeper the oppression, the fiercer the resistance!
The oppression that had accumulated on this island for hundreds of years was now transformed into the power of Spartacus!
Rebecca clung tightly to Spartacus's shoulders, the wind howled and the flames burned, but she was not afraid.
She looked down.
She saw that the previously apathetic slaves in the slums were now emerging from their shacks.
They looked up at the fiery giant charging toward the castle, and at the invisible banner of rebellion.
Something is awakening in my eyes.
That is—hope.
That is courage.
That is—freedom.