Chapter 127: How to Save You, Our Friend

It was evening, the busiest moment of the day. It seemed that at this time, everyone remembered the things they had forgotten during the day, and hurried about everywhere, hoping to use their own busyness to forever hold on to the last layer of light of this day. Even the sunset glow hastily painted the last trace of red in the sky, and then waited alone for the night curtain to wipe it away again.

At times like this, only those who were truly at ease could relax their minds, watching other people’s busyness with leisure, and enjoying this wonderful moment when light and shadow alternated. For example, the person lying on his side in the grass. He gazed absently at the dandelions beside him, as if they were the only important thing in the world. A breeze blew past, gently lifting a tuft of fluff, higher and higher. Several tufts of fluff stuck to his long red hair. He carefully took them off, then gently blew them into the sky one by one. After doing all this, he suddenly smiled, lay down with relief and satisfaction, and stretched out his arms and legs.

That person was Red Flame, the most outstanding Elf warrior.

Since entering the Holy Fox Highlands, he had become somewhat different from before. He was quieter, liked to be alone, often stared blankly at the darkness deep in the jungle, or giggled foolishly at a few plants. Only when drilling his cavalry subordinates did he regain his spirit, shouting loudly like a bold warrior, and then he would return to this unfamiliar appearance again.

His strong build and the scar on his face hid the fact that he was an Elf. To our native friends, he might have just been a silent cavalry officer. He had only one eye, a somewhat gloomy personality, and did not like to talk with others. But he was an amazing warrior and won the respect of all the soldiers. Moreover, he seemed to like his helmet very much, and never took it off even when resting or eating.

Somehow, although he showed a side of himself that was strange to us and made us feel odd, no one worried too much about him. To be honest, his behavior made me very uncomfortable, but at the same time, I felt an inexplicable warmth and familiarity from him, as if it was only right for him to be this way. I did not know why, but I suddenly felt that his roughness and boldness were just the outward side of his personality, and at this moment, he was showing more of his true inner self.

He had never looked more like an elegant pure-blooded Elf than he did now.

“Red Flame, what are you doing?” I walked over quietly and said to my Elf friend.

“I can’t remember how long it has been since I lay on the grass like this, smelling the scent of the earth, feeling the spring breeze flow across my cheeks. When was the last time I relaxed like this? Fifty years ago? Maybe even longer…” he said to me with a look of happiness.

“You never told me you were also a sentimental bard, my friend.” I teased him in a friendly way and sat down beside him.

He reached out his right hand and lightly hit my leg, as a small revenge for my teasing.

“What is your home like, Jeff? I only know your family runs a tavern.” For some reason, he suddenly asked me this. His words stirred up my longing for home and made my mind drift far away.

“My home… My father was a hearty, rough man. He liked to drink, and he was always getting drunk. When he was drunk, he liked to sing. He sang terribly, but every time the guests in the tavern would clap and cheer for him. That was really bad, because it meant I never developed much sense of music. I think that’s why I never learned those frivolous noble dances when I was in Morning Light City…”

“He only had one leg, ever since I was born. There was a piece of wood on his left leg, and it went thump-thump when he walked, looking very impressive. That was the result of suppressing bandits when he was a soldier. He was very proud of it, saying that it was bought with the heads of three enemies. This made me admire him greatly from a young age. I often imagined how majestic he looked, raising his saber with his foot on an enemy’s head.”

“But once, I told him that I wanted to fight like him, kill enemies, and then attach a wooden leg that went thump-thump when I walked. He hit me. He told me that there was nothing better than being a tavern owner, not even being King could compare.”

“At the time I didn’t know why he hit me, but now I understand a little. That incident had a huge effect on me. Maybe it was from then on that I hopelessly fell in love with the job of a tavern owner, but…” I gave a bitter smile. “I am getting farther and farther from his wish.”

“You have an older brother, Jeff?” Red Flame asked.

“Yes, his name is Pierre. He used to be a mercenary. Now… maybe he still is. Ever since I was old enough to understand, he wanted to become a great hero. Some swordsmanship teachers said he had great talent. Thinking back now, maybe that was really true.”

“He liked adventure, and he liked talking back to my father. Also… he really liked to tease me. When I was little, he would always tempt me with a piece of candy, and only when I was about to cry from anxiety would he put the candy into my hand and say I was a timid crybaby. Other than that, he was the best older brother, always taking good care of me. I haven’t seen him for a long time…” Memories came to my mind one after another, making me feel both warm and sad.

“By the way, don’t you have an older sister? Tell me about her. How long has it been since you saw her?” I asked.

Suddenly, Red Flame looked a little embarrassed. He pinched off a blade of grass, put it in his mouth and chewed it gently, then spat it out. I saw his only eye dim, as if it had brought up some bad memories.

“She…” He hesitated and was just about to speak when a miserable cry came from the camp gate:

“Someone, come quickly! Save him! Roll is hurt! Someone come…”

It was Evlinna’s voice, and she sounded terrified. I didn’t know what had happened. I hurriedly got up and rushed toward the camp gate, and Red Flame followed behind.

The scene that came into my view made me angry.

An arrow had viciously pierced through Roll’s right arm. The blood on the arrowhead had already darkened to black because of the time that had passed. To remove it, the whole arrow had to be pulled out from the other end. Perhaps because our native friends could not find any medicine to stop the bleeding in their hurry, and were anxious to get back, they had not done so.

This was not the only wound on Roll’s body. His chest and back were covered with sword wounds of varying depths. Some wounds were very serious, almost turning the whole muscle inside out. Just looking at them made me tremble uncontrollably, unable to stop myself from sharing that pain with him. Besides that, there were signs of burns and frostbite on his body, which should have been caused by Elf magic.

Roll had already lost consciousness, but the pain from his wounds still tortured him even in his coma. His teeth were clenched tightly, grinding together from the pain, making muffled sounds. His face was terrifyingly pale from blood loss. His hands were ice-cold, and his breathing was soft and rapid. The thread of his life had been stretched to the most dangerous point. As long as his injuries pulled just a little harder, it might snap.

“Roll!” I grabbed his hand and shouted his name loudly, trying to call back his consciousness. He seemed to feel something, but clearly it was not my friendship. He reflexively swung his right fist and hit me hard in the face, yelling, “Evlinna, go, go quickly!”

“Carry him to the room over there. You, prepare hot water and salt. You, light the lamps—yes, light every lamp you can find. You, go call Miss Millia, and tell her to come as fast as she can! Don’t tell me you don’t know where she is. If I don’t see her before I count to a hundred, I’ll kill you!” I got up, pointing at the soldiers who had gathered around and shouting at them one by one. I vaguely felt something desperate, and I was terrified in my heart, wanting to run away. But I couldn’t.

“First prepare a basin of clean water to wash Lieutenant Colonel Roll’s wounds. Be quick, don’t fcking dawdle…” Whose voice was this? My own? I wasn’t very sure. This voice was weak and desperate, as if struggling and tumbling in an endless abyss. It clearly sounded right by my ear, yet it seemed to come from very far away. This voice carried tears, but my face was dry.

The fear of possibly losing my friend made me unable even to cry.

Only after Roll was carried into the room did I notice the soldiers who had protected Evlinna and Robert together with Roll. In less than ten days, they looked haggard and grief-stricken. There were far fewer of them than when they had set out. Those lucky enough to come back alive were also covered in wounds, leaning on one another as they stood there with difficulty. Their most serious wounds were all caused by arrows. I had never seen arrow wounds so severe. Those arrowheads were all flat sharp blades. Although the wounds were not as large as those made by triangular wolf-fang arrows, in the hands of the Elf archers they had shown unimaginable power. I guessed that quite a number of the arrows had been enchanted with magic. The Elves’ natural ability to manipulate magic made it easy for them to do this. Besides wounds made by sharp blades, the soldiers also had injuries from all kinds of magic—those were the truly serious wounds. Looking at those burst-open, frost-cracked, sliced-up wounds, I truly could not imagine how these loyal warriors had endured all this, protecting Evlinna and the wounded Roll and running back to camp in the shortest time possible.

The Elves’ enviable archery made me hate them. Such a race—beautiful, noble, elegant, magical—made me feel hatred. This incident shattered all the beautiful impressions of this race that Red Flame had given us. A day ago, this would have been unimaginable to me.

Millia arrived in a hurry, and our companions also came one after another. We watched her clean Roll’s wounds while never stopping her life-saving divine spells, her forehead covered with nervous sweat. We did not even dare to breathe loudly, afraid of disturbing her and causing our friend to meet with misfortune.

More military surgeons also began treating the wounded soldiers. The complicated injuries kept them busy and flustered for a while. Fortunately, the soldiers who had managed to return to camp alive were all the ones with the strongest bodies and relatively lighter injuries. With the doctors’ efforts, they all survived.

Yes, those who could get back here could live, but those who had already died could never come back.

I didn’t know how much time had passed, but it felt as long as a lifetime. Finally, Millia finished treating all the wounds on Roll’s body and stood up wearily.

“This won’t do.” The highly skilled believer of the Good God shook her head and said to us dejectedly. “His external wounds are serious, but none of them are fatal. But his internal organs have suffered very severe damage, possibly caused by some large-scale offensive magic. His condition is very bad now…”

Ever since entering the camp gate, Evlinna had stayed by Roll’s side, refusing to move even a step no matter what we said. Her face was covered with bloody scratches from branches, and her body had many bruises. Presumably, on the way back to camp, the young and beautiful High Priest of the Lumburi Tribe had suffered quite a lot. But she was completely unaware of all this, putting all her attention on Roll, who was unconscious. Although we were all Roll’s closest friends and very worried about his injuries, Evlinna’s reaction was even stronger than ours. She stood there as if she had gone silly, her eyes seeing only Roll, nothing else. It was not until Millia finished speaking that she seemed to wake from a horrible nightmare.

“Roll… Roll isn’t going to die, is he?” Evlinna asked in a small voice, full of hope and fear.

“Anything could happen, Evlinna. Anything could…” Millia said as tactfully as she could. Evlinna clearly understood what she meant. Unable to hold back her grief, she covered her face and ran out the door.

“You can save him, can’t you, Millia? You can save him!” Fred pulled Millia toward him and asked urgently. The young leader’s eyes were filled with something called panic.

We had watched with our own eyes as our closest comrades fell one by one before him and left us forever, but I had never thought that person would be Roll. In every battle, Roll received wounds enough to kill a person, but every time he endured them, without even needing more treatment. This man’s body and will seemed forged from steel. Nothing could destroy him.

But now, this man was lying in front of us with his eyes tightly closed. Millia said his organs were bleeding inside his body. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew that in the body of our most aloof yet passionate friend, there was not much blood left to flow.

All eyes turned to Millia. We were begging, hoping, praying. At this moment, no matter what Millia told us to do, we would do it. Go fetch the heart of a magical beast, chop off a dragon’s wing, challenge the most powerful demon in the abyss of another world—as long as it could save Roll’s life, we were willing to do anything, and I believed we could do anything!

Millia looked at us, a little undecided. She thought for a moment, then said to us:

“Maybe there is still a way. Maybe. I can open Roll’s abdominal cavity, examine and repair the organs inside his body…”

I was stunned. Everyone was stunned. No one had expected Millia to suggest this kind of treatment.

This treatment method was pioneered by a mad monk doctor named A. Vesalius. In the nearly forty years of his medical career, he had performed this surgery more than a hundred times on patients who were terminally ill and beyond cure. According to later famous doctors, the vast majority of his surgeries were successful, and his choice of blood to transfuse into patients was also very correct, but only two patients survived after the surgery.

All the others died. They did not die from their illness, and they did not die from blood loss. They died from pain.

They died in agony, completely awake!

Those who risked their lives to survive chose the most dangerous way to be treated, and at the same time, they also chose the most cruel way to die. The pain of cutting open one’s belly and stirring the internal organs could not be described in words. To ensure the surgery went smoothly, Vesalius always got his patients dead drunk, then tied them firmly to the bed with dozens of ropes, to prevent them from making violent movements from pain that could cause unexpected danger. Even so, many people still did exactly what he worried they would do. More people simply had the flame of their lives snuffed out when the pain reached its peak. Some people, while struggling, broke their own arm bones and leg bones. Some bit through their own tongues right there on the bed. Their deaths were so miserable that the assistants who followed Doctor Vesalius left him one by one. Many of them never studied medicine again, and the others became hysterical at the sight of blood.

Of the two people he cured who survived, one went crazy, and the other could never feel pain again after that. However, their illnesses were indeed cured.

This treatment method was so crazy that A. Vesalius’s name was still widely passed around by people decades after his death. Many people regarded him as a vicious demon crawling out of hell. Parents often scared disobedient children like this:

“If you misbehave again, we’ll let Doctor Vesalius take you away!”

…

Was Millia really planning to use this method to treat Roll? I did not dare to imagine the result.

“Millia, is there no other choice?” Fred asked worriedly.

The beautiful believer nodded.

“No, you can’t do this. Even if he has to die, I want Roll to die peacefully. He must not suffer such pain before death.” Dakla shouted, trying his best to oppose Millia’s suggestion. For this matter, I also felt it was unacceptable. I would rather Roll die like this; perhaps that would be a greater help to him.

“I know what you are worried about, Dakla.” At this moment, Millia spoke. She did not hide her worry, but her words surprised us greatly.

“I know you are afraid of him suffering great pain before death. On this point, you don’t need to worry. It is not like what you imagine. Actually, what I am worried about is…”

Millia took out two bottles of silver-white potion from her medicine box. They were carefully kept in precious transparent crystal bottles. From the containers holding them, we could tell that their owner valued them beyond the ordinary.

“…What I worry about is that after he takes my medicine, he will never wake up again!”