Chapter 104: Our Friend Roll

Following Fred’s signal, Roll led Millia out from the battle formation toward where we stood. Two soldiers carrying Millia’s medicine box followed behind them.

The shock Millia’s appearance gave the indigenous people was no less than the shock Evlinna’s appearance had given me. Those indigenous people had never imagined that the “greatest doctor” we spoke of with such reverence would actually be a woman—and such a beautiful, delicate woman at that. For a moment, they all found it hard to believe. Some even let out strange cries or revealed smiles that were far from friendly. It wasn’t until later that we learned that, here, doctors and priests were usually the same person, always an elderly person of high prestige, and what they called “treatment” was nothing more than praying to the gods and consulting spirits, with only a small amount of herbal medicine used alongside. Millia’s appearance could be said to have shaken the very foundation of their faith, and more or less made them feel somewhat insulted.

Just as she was walking toward us, a tall indigenous man suddenly pushed his way out of the crowd, reaching lewdly for Millia’s chest with a filthy grin. As he reached out, he laughed obscenely, and the people of his tribe around him also cheered and whooped at his actions. These crude, bored men had been cooped up here the entire morning, and of course they wouldn’t pass up such rare entertainment.

I should have been angry, right? Fred had even more reason to be furious. His beloved had been treated with such crude disrespect—no man with any shred of self-respect could tolerate such a thing.

But neither of us made a move.

Because before we could, Roll had already moved.

I truly cannot describe how Roll moved to that big man’s side. His movements were more eerie than a ghost’s—he seemed to float through the air, or drift along like something carried by the current.

When the foreign man’s right hand was about to touch Millia’s clothes, Roll’s right hand had already reached out first and clamped onto his index finger. Then, almost everyone present heard a crisp sound of a bone popping out of joint. The man, who was a full head taller than Roll, collapsed to the ground without any ability to resist.

He didn’t let out a scream.

No—he simply had no strength to cry out.

Because Roll had already crouched over him, his left hand pressing down on the man’s neck. But what gripped his throat more deeply and more forcefully was something called fear. Roll stared at him with an expressionless face, as if what he was looking at wasn’t a living human being at all, but a pile of flesh and bone that could be disposed of however one pleased. His eyes barely gave off a single ray of living light, yet they gleamed like two springs of ice water, pouring mercilessly onto the face of that indigenous man. Fine beads of sweat broke out on the big man’s skin. He tried his best to stare bravely into Roll’s eyes like a man who didn’t fear death, but his pupils still dropped involuntarily.

He could be unafraid of death, but he could not be unafraid of that bloodthirsty killer who surpassed the terror of death itself.

Just as everyone thought it was all over, a chilling gleam of light flashed in Roll’s right hand, disappearing beside the man’s head in an instant like a bolt of lightning. Then, Roll clapped his hands, stood up, and calmly returned to Millia’s side. His expression was silent, as if nothing at all had just happened.

Only then did everyone see clearly that the dagger—that dagger famous on the battlefield for drinking blood—had sunk entirely into the earth, grazing right past the man’s ear.

If you didn’t know what silence meant, then at this moment you would understand. If you didn’t understand what intimidation meant, then at this moment you should. Tens of thousands of indigenous people fell into dead silence in an instant; they couldn’t even find a proper way to express the intense shock of witnessing what had just happened. It wasn’t the fight itself that shocked them, though that fight had been thrilling enough. What truly inspired their awe was that Roll could hesitate not in the slightest between life and death, nor show the least bit of flinching. His way of fighting seemed to declare to everyone: he cherished neither the lives of his enemies nor his own life in the least. He seemed ready at any moment to trade life for life, and he was absolutely certain of one thing: you could exchange lives with him, but you would definitely die before him, and you would definitely die a thousand times more painfully than him. There was no fighting in Roll’s eyes—only killing. Even if the life being killed was his own, he didn’t care.

These bold men were brave, but after all, they had never crawled through piles of corpses. Precisely because of their bravery, they could not imagine that a warrior could be so merciless to such an extreme degree.

Millia, for her part, maintained the noble bearing of a priestess the entire time. Even when that foreign man’s hand was only a hair’s breadth from her body, her expression did not change in the slightest. It wasn’t until Roll stood back behind her that the injured big man began to groan in pain. He clutched his dislocated index finger with his left hand, his face pale, every muscle in his body trembling.

Millia walked over and crouched down beside him. She carefully took his right hand and gently massaged the base of his index finger. From the big man’s expression, we could tell that the force she used wasn’t great, but it was enough to stimulate the nerves in his arm and produce a tingling, numbing sensation. The man’s expression gradually relaxed, and he even half-closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle massage.

Suddenly, Millia’s hands jerked with fierce force, twisting viciously against each other. Another crisp sound tapped against our eardrums, followed by a miserable scream bursting from the big man’s mouth. I guessed he must have intended to let out a second scream, but he suddenly discovered that the gnawing pain of bone grinding against bone had vanished, so he swallowed the second half of his second scream back into his stomach. He rolled over and stood up, staring blankly at Millia and Roll with his face cycling through green, red, and white. He had no idea what to do. Finally, he bent down, pulled Roll’s dagger out of the dirt, held it up with both hands, and presented it to Roll. Then he bowed deeply before Millia, and immediately without looking back, he left the hillside, running without stopping toward the jungle behind him, until his figure completely disappeared into the trees.

Roll continued walking forward alongside Millia. By now, what welcomed them was no longer the noisy, chaotic chatter. Although the entire hillside was already very quiet, the places they passed were always a little quieter than everywhere else. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I always felt that on the ground Roll stepped on, even the wind would freeze solid, letting out not a single sound. Whenever his gaze swept across the people nearby, those indigenous people would all unconsciously lower their heads. They feared Roll’s lifeless eyes the way they feared blades and swords, the way they feared the softest nightmares in their hearts.

“So this… is the doctor you spoke of?” It wasn’t until they came close that Eckdin snapped back to his senses. He pointed at Millia and asked Fred, but one of his eyes never left Roll’s right hand.

“Yes, I assure you, she is one of the best doctors you have ever seen.” Fred replied with proper courtesy.

“Then, I think we can begin…”

“Wait!” Eckdin’s words were cut off by a crisp voice. His mouth hung open and he froze, turning his head in disbelief.

His astonishment was understandable, because the one who interrupted him was none other than that young maiden—Evlinna, who held the highest authority present.

Although we had only known her for a short time, we could all tell that Evlinna was a protected, spoiled child in this tribe. Everyone present liked her and doted on her. Not just because of her grandfather’s status, but also because her personality was truly endearing. But she was by no means a strong-willed child. She was used to obeying her elders and arranging her words and actions according to their wishes. And now, she had actually interrupted Eckdin’s words for the sake of her own wishes. From Eckdin’s expression, we could see how unusual this action of hers was.

“I’m sorry… sir, how can you prove that this… big sister… is really a doctor? It’s true that she… she just healed Uncle Dafuke’s injury, but many people can do things like that. I hope… I hope I can see with my own eyes that she truly has medical skills beyond that of an ordinary doctor.”

Although the whole speech came out not at all smoothly, and her little face was flushed bright red, I had to admit that her request was indeed reasonable. After all, Millia wasn’t just going to treat her own grandfather—she was going to treat the most revered elder in the entire tribe. On this young girl’s shoulders rested a burden far heavier than her age and her life.

She would become a remarkable woman, within this tribe. Of that I had no doubt. She had enough courage and wisdom to bear her own responsibilities, without flinching, without hiding. No matter how delicate and gentle a girl she was, as long as she possessed such noble qualities, her life would never lack brilliance.

“I’m sorry, I know this request is willful, but please, you must prove it to me. This concerns the survival of my entire tribe.” Taking a few deep breaths, Evlinna clumsily and shyly stepped forward to bow and apologize to Millia. Her expression was flustered, yet at the same time firm and unshakable.

“Shhk.” The moment Evlinna finished speaking, Roll unhesitatingly slashed his own left wrist with his dagger. There was no warning at all. Bright red blood spurted out like a fountain from the artery in his wrist, shooting nearly a full person’s height into the air. In an instant, Roll became a figure drenched in red. His hair, his skin, his fingernails, his teeth—all were wrapped in his own blood, yet his expression didn’t change in the slightest. Even when the blood sprayed across his forehead, he didn’t even blink.

Evlinna nearly screamed. She was terrified by the horrible sight. I truly didn’t know what force was supporting her, keeping her from fainting on the spot. Not just her—all the indigenous people around were shocked into loud exclamations by Roll’s complete disregard for his own life. Some of them didn’t even know what had happened, but when they saw Roll calmly slicing open his own artery and still maintaining a calm expression, even revealing a faint, fierce smile, a nameless fear made them go weak.

“Roll, you’re insane!” I rushed forward a few steps, instinctively trying to bandage his wound. He waved his right hand to stop me, letting his blood spray freely like that. He looked at his own blood plasma as if it were something that had nothing to do with him. The indigenous warriors around began to retreat backward, desperately dodging the blood falling from the sky. These were men who were by no means afraid of blood, but at this moment they all shrank back as if under some kind of curse.

As if he had seen nothing at all, Roll naturally extended his wounded left arm in front of Millia. A faint sheen of sweat had also appeared on Millia’s forehead. She focused completely on the terrifying wound that was still continuously spurting blood, murmuring mysterious incantations under her breath, then pressed both her hands over the wound. A faint flash of white light passed, and when Millia withdrew her hands, the wound had stopped bleeding and was healing at an extremely rapid speed.

“What a reckless fool,” Millia complained, then instructed Roll: “You’ve lost too much blood right now. You need proper rest. For one month, no strenuous activity, no fighting, no hunting. Right now, even a small wound could keep you from getting out of bed. Idiot—there are many ways to prove medical skill, and you chose the stupidest and most boring one…” Although Millia’s tone was far from friendly, it couldn’t hide her concern and care. Fred also walked over to him, looking at him anxiously.

On the parts of Roll’s face not covered by blood, an unhealthy, weak, and pale complexion showed through. In just a few breaths, the massive loss of blood had worn down his health to that degree, making him look like a corpse that had just awakened from a grave. But his gaze remained sharp, carrying a resolute expression, and showed no sign of becoming unfocused from weakness. He smiled at the three of us, then turned and extended his arm in front of Evlinna. By this time, his wound had already healed considerably.

“Artery wound, no medicine used, already healed. Satisfied?” Roll asked coldly.

Seeing him like that, Evlinna was indeed greatly frightened. She gasped and stepped back half a step, but she didn’t retreat. Instead, she forced herself to gather her spirits, stepped forward again, took Roll’s blood-covered hand, and carefully examined the wound. Her right index finger gently traced across the skin where the wound had been. The flesh there had turned a fresh, ruddy color, looking strong and solid. Suddenly, she tightly gripped Roll’s right hand, lowered her head, and sobbed loudly. Her tears fell onto the back of Roll’s hand, spreading the thickened blood into a faint, pale circle.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I just wanted… I just wanted… I’m sorry…”

The girl cried again. This time, she cried with restraint, not making people feel annoyed from the bottom of their hearts. Her hand gently stroked Roll’s arm, like a child clutching the hem of her parents’ clothes—something that one could rely on, something warm.

“You were doing what you had to do…” Roll gently pulled his hand back and turned around. We couldn’t see his face, but his voice was soft and kind, so warm that it didn’t seem like the Roll we had always known.

“So was I…”

“May your grandfather… recover soon.”

This was the most Roll had ever spoken to someone he had just met, and the most sincere he had ever been.

Then he left, walking back toward our camp. He took with him the respect of the indigenous warriors—or rather, more of their fear. If Fred had used his mind and eloquence to build a bridge of communication between us, then Roll had entirely relied on his almost insane fearlessness to win the awe of everyone here. He helped us in his own way. Only Roll could earn us respect through such means. He wasn’t just a war machine that knew only killing—he was a truly remarkable warrior. He won the hearts of everyone present. At this moment, no brilliant diplomat could have done better than him.

His blood was warm—this, we understood, and so did all those who had ever fought alongside him.

“Warriors like him—how many do you have in your army?” Eckdin watched Roll’s retreating back and asked Fred in amazement.

“If we’re talking only about courage, every single one of our men is braver than him…” Fred replied, drawing looks of disbelief from the people around them. I suspect I was the only one here who knew how true those words were, because only we had seen Roll back when he was still a new recruit—that shy, timid, slightly bashful young man.

“But on the battlefield, almost no one can surpass him. Because although there isn’t an excess of courage in his heart, it is never lacking in friendship, loyalty, faith, and kindness. Whether on the battlefield or anywhere else, these things are far more powerful than mere courage alone.”

Including Eckdin, all the indigenous warriors wore bewildered expressions. That wasn’t surprising. Only those who had truly experienced the battlefield of life and death, only those who had personally buried the bodies of their dearest friends, only those who had endured the pain of farewell between life and death—only they could truly understand the meaning of those words.

“What’s his name?” Evlinna asked softly.

“Roll. His name is Roll.” Fred announced that ordinary name loudly, with an expression of immense pride.

“He is our friend Roll!”

“I sincerely hope you two will become friends…” As he walked past us, Eckdin said to us in a low voice with a bitter smile, “because I truly don’t have the courage to face an enemy like that.”

I did my best to put on a relaxed and cheerful expression and replied: “We will become friends—of that we have no doubt.”

“Miss Evlinna, may we go see the patient now?” Millia walked over to Evlinna’s side and asked.

“Yes, yes, let’s set off right away.” Evlinna casually wiped away her tears and walked beside Millia toward the back. We followed closely behind. Faintly, I seemed to hear Evlinna quietly ask Millia:

“Big sister, that… that Mister Roll, is he your friend?”

“He’s one of our best friends,” Millia replied.

“Then… then can I become your friend too?”

“Of course. We originally hoped you would become our friends.”

“Then… Mister Roll…” Her voice dropped low.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… watch out, there’s a log here…”