A Lewd Cultivator in Brockton Bay 48 (Patreon)

A Lewd Cultivator in Brockton Bay
Chapter 48

-VB-

Was Australia rich?

Not really. With the loss of the Outback, they lost a lot of their usual mines when Australian export was dominantly raw material export, particularly coal and iron. Leviathan didn’t help, of course, but it didn’t mean that shipping didn’t happen; it just happened far less frequently and the danger involved also made it super expensive.

So Australia was not rich, and with eighteen million people living in it, this was not good news. Their healthcare hung by a bare thread, and so when Amy came around with me as her husband and bodyguard and offered to create a tinkertech healing device approved for use by the PRT…

The doctor in charge of Blacktown hospital, Doctor Hellen Kim, stood next to us with teary eyes.

“It’s been so long since we’ve got help,” she whispered quietly while dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “Even though we’re no more than ten kilometers from the new federal district and take in the majority of West Sydney’s needy, sick, and injured.”

Vicky was all for the PR.

“Don’t worry. Heroes will come to help if they know more about the situation!” she said as she took the matron’s hands and shook them. Seeing as the matron wasn’t flying away, screaming about broken bones, or otherwise, she was doing a good job at controlling her strength while giving the appearance of putting her all in that one firm handshake. “I mean, I already posted to PHO about it and my hubby there set up a donation pool.”

I gave the matron, who turned to look at me, a victory sign. “It’s already linked to your hospital’s own donation site, so there won’t be a fee for intermediaries as people will be giving directly to you.”

She began to openly weep now.

Politely ignoring her for a moment as she pulled Vicky and Amy both into a bear hug, I pulled out my phone and looked up how many donations the site recorded. The pity story I wrote with Amy and Vicky’s confirming it was enough for ten thousand dollars to be deposited over one hundred eight donations in the past three hours. From a single glance, our little trip to the poorest hospital seemed to be working.

More importantly, seeing Amy and Vicky feel good about the good they were doing.

“REPENT! THE END IS NIGH!”

The matron’s tears dried up almost instantly, and the handkerchief of hers squeaked from the grip strength applied to it.

I turned towards the sound, which seemed to come from the front of the lobby.

“Who’s the crazy?” I asked after turning back towards the doctor.

“A local man who lost his entire family,” she sighed. “Usually, he has a minder.”

“Daniel, stop bothering the nice people and the sick patients!”

I looked down as the voices grew away and saw a … was that a nun? Yes, that was a nun dragging an elderly man away from the lobby of the hospital.

“He’s … he has but a single grandchild left. Please forgive him for the disruption.”

“Shouldn’t he be taking care of his grandkid then?” I asked her with a huff.

“The kid’s in the army.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. Daniel… was always a good neighbor. Always helpful and kind. A good Christian like the way the old pastors and priests told people to emulate, not the Christians of profiteering megachurches.”

“What happened?” I asked, more to keep a conversation going than with actual curiosity.

“Simurgh happened.”

No more needed to be said.

“Are there a lot of people like him?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

And that was that.

-VB-

After another hedonistic night, I found myself on the rooftop of the hotel we were staying at.

I would normally get right down to doing something, but I also knew that making my own martial arts needed proper guidance as well.

Martial art, as I understood it, wasn’t just a show of punching, kicking, and fighting in a pleasing and effective manner. Martial art, at its core, was a way for a trained expert to gain an advantage over the untrained or even those trained in the more traditional and standard methods.

Of course, guns fucked that trend up badly, but one good soldier training video still showed everyone that a trained martial artist versus someone who wasn’t trained in such close-quarter combat.

First and foremost, I needed a martial art that could switch between non-lethality and lethality on the fly. As a hero, I needed to be able to hold back but also dish out the necessary firepower when murderers like Slaughterhouse Nine came around.

With that in mind, I had already compiled a list of moves and arts that were already proficient in both. Judo was a must for its grappling techniques needed for me to lock down my enemies that I didn’t want to kill, taekwondo for the powerful kicks, and LINE for fully lethal attacks. I would go for single strikes for both incapacitations and kill strikes.

Time to get started.