Rhodes sat on a tree stump chopped down at the entrance of the injured soldiers’ camp. Since hearing from the female doctor who volunteered to work at Carterburg’s injured camp that tobacco would affect Sharpshooters’ lungs and reduce breath-holding ti, the young man quit smoking.
What, smoking would lower my efficiency in killing Chaos? Get lost! I don’t have a brother like you.
Despite quitting smoking, Rhodes couldn’t leave the injured camp—even after returning from the forest, Rhodes got shot again in the rno battle. The bullet pierced his left lung, which was unfortunate. But fortunately, the bullet went straight through, entering and exiting through Rhodes’ chest, leaving him with nothing but a two-month stay in the rear hospital at Svinoitisce.
During this ti, Carn and Halsan visited twice, bringing a letter from Sudel. In the letter, Rhodes’ cousin didn’t say much, which deeply impressed upon Rhodes the hardships of the front line—even elite troops like Malin’s personal guard lacked ink, indicating just how difficult the battles at rno were for the soldiers.
Moreover, the chocolate that Sudel had Halsan bring to Rhodes... this stuff couldn’t be considered chocolate at all.
Ah, when will Lord Malin return?
Thinking of this, Rhodes took out his last piece of chocolate from the pocket of his hospital gown—though fake, bitter, and astringent, others didn’t even have this.
The saying of not even having dung to eat speaks to such a sad truth.
At this mont, a mobile ambulance appeared from the end of the road, and Rhodes stood up because these rear-wheel-drive four-wheel vehicles were used by the military to transport important wounded to the rear. Rhodes, even as a lieutenant, was not included, just a lieutenant after all.
If it weren’t for the potion Lord Malin left him, the young man would probably have been dead by now—although the enemy’s bullet didn’t cause significant trauma, the Chaos desecration on the bullet was no joke.
Stretching his neck, Rhodes wanted to see which lucky unfortunate it was—calling him unfortunate, of course, because only injuries warranted being transported to the rear. The Crown Prince, though unassertive, at least knew to execute deserters, whether commoners or Nobles, so Rhodes didn’t feel extre displeasure towards him.
As for luck, well, obviously, being taken down by Chaos and still having the chance to co here is certainly lucky.
Because usually, death is the most ordinary outco, surviving is indeed a rather luxurious ending.
However, Rhodes didn’t see who it was. Watching the ambulance stop in front of the operating room, a few officers hurriedly jumped out, dragging a stretcher from the back, and rushed with the wounded on it to the operating room.
Rhodes and a few Gendarrie quickly ran over—the operating room was where the dical officers from Carterburg saved people. All wounded must undergo contamination detection before being taken inside; otherwise, no one would bear the responsibility if things went wrong inside. What were these guys thinking?
Fortunately, there were Gendarrie at the operating room entrance, blocking the officers’ path.
Soone pulled out a gun: "Get out of the way! If the Duke’s son dies, none of you can afford the responsibility!"
Rhodes stopped running because he saw the Gendarrie had already raised their weapons—the Gendarrie were personally selected by Lord Malin, the most impartial team. When the dical officer team from Carterburg arrived, it was the Crown Prince who dispatched a team to ensure their safety.
The atmosphere was sowhat tense. Though there was a nurical disparity between the parties, the smaller group showed no readiness to back down; even soone from the mobile ambulance climbed out to start operating the machine gun.
So, the sirens from the watchtower were sounded, and soon a cha responsible for the injured hospital’s safety approached—these were the guards under the dical officer team, belonging to their property. The 40-mm dual-mounted cannon on it had already been activated, clearly indicating if the vehicle operator dared to shoot, it would tear the audacious individual to pieces inside the vehicle.
"Stop the alarms; it makes our sisters’ heads ache." Said the half-elf girl as she walked out from the operating room, noticing the situation at the entrance. She walked over, glanced at the wounded on the stretcher: "He’s severely injured; how is he not dead yet?"
"What do you an by that!" An officer who had brought the wounded nearly exploded but, facing the young dical lady, could only bawl grievously like a dog with a broken leg.
"I’m telling the truth; you two help hold his arms tight." Finished the half-elf girl, and hearing the command, the Gendarrie shouldered their guns and moved to grab the wounded’s hands.
"What are you doing?!" The officer with the gun aid his weapon at the Gendarrie—not daring to target the military doctors, for anyone with battlefield experience knew pointing a gun at military doctors would earn unanimous condemnation.
"I’m thinking about whether he still has a chance." The half-elf girl said while opening the dical box at her waist: "Do you want him to live or die?"
The officer struggled for a while before he and another officer finally held the wounded’s arms.
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