Swan was certain: it was a fatal wound.
A lethal amount of blood loss.
From the deep slash in the elf’s torso—dealt by Shes—red liquid poured to the ground like an overturned bucket.
“──Ah, I’ve truly messed up now,”
The elf’s eyes were vacant. Yet, golden sacred power still surged from their body.
They conjured a new wall of light, forcing Shes back, then created footholds in midair with the same power to propel themselves into the air.
“Impressive. You can use it like that, too?”
“Yeah… something like that,”
The elf focused their sacred power on their wound, stopping the bleeding while giving a strained, pale smile.
“I’ll admit my defeat here, Dark Healer. I’ll be retreating.”
“Hmm. A wise choice.”
“I can’t let the knowledge I’ve accumulated go to waste, you see.”
Leaving those words behind, the elf kicked off the light wall beneath their feet and quickly disappeared into the shadowy forest. Alaya , without giving chase, simply watched them vanish.
“But… I’m afraid I can’t let you go.”
The apology was dry and hollow, devoid of genuine emotion.
Alaya narrowed his eyes as he gazed ahead.
Thud.
Like a lifeless doll, the elf’s body fell from the trees above, crashing into the ground without so much as attempting to brace themselves.
Around their neck was a fresh, deep, crimson slash running cleanly across.
“I wasn’t alone. I anticipated you’d flee to your domain—the forest.”
Someone else leapt down from the tree, landing beside the now-motionless elf. They were draped in a black hooded cloak, their face concealed by a haphazardly wrapped bandage.
Swan recognized them. It was a zombie, often spotted silently lingering behind Alaya at the medical tent—a shadow-like presence.
“I can’t let someone who has discovered this location escape. Losing this base—where ambush squads regroup—simply isn’t an option.”
Alaya slowly approached and crouched next to the now-dying elf, who lacked even the strength to summon more sacred power.
“So, do you have any last words?”
An hour had passed since Alaya and his group repelled the elf’s ambush.
They had re-pitched the medical tent, and with the combined efforts of Alaya , Swan, and the army medics from the rest shift, had finally finished treating the injured.
“Seventeen dead. For a complete surprise attack, the casualties were minimal.”
“…Minimal, sir?”
Swan stared at the two rows of bodies lined neatly before him, then lowered his eyes. Among them were a few familiar faces—fellow trainees he had spoken to in the tent just hours earlier.
“An attack this deep into our rear lines is unprecedented, but medical camps often get caught in large-scale battles. Compared to those cases, the death toll here is small.”
“…Is this… the reality of this battlefield?”
“Indeed. You’ll have to get used to it.”
But getting used to this seemed impossible.
Swan had thought he understood what it meant to be a military medic.
Yet now, after losing patients he’d treated, losing peers he’d trained with, and facing constant danger himself, he felt the crushing weight of his own helplessness.
“By the way, Swan. How’s your mana reserve holding up?”
“Huh? Oh, it’s fine…”
He didn’t feel faint from mana exhaustion, but something felt off.
He had treated nearly twenty people over the past hours. At the clinic, treating just over ten had left him lightheaded.
“Heh… I see. Excellent.”
“…?”
“Ah, nothing. Keep up the good work.”
Alaya gave an enigmatic chuckle, patted Swan on the shoulder, and walked away.
His destination was the corner of the tent where another body lay—the cold, lifeless elf.
“Zombie Soldier, dig a three-meter-deep hole at the base of a tree in the forest, would you?”
With those words, heavy footsteps thudded away into the distance outside the tent.
“Doctor Alaya , what are you doing…?”
“Preparing her burial.”
Alaya spoke as if it were obvious.
“With the battle ongoing, we can’t afford to return enemy bodies to their nation. She had to wait while we prioritized treating our injured. But I can’t just leave her like this. After cleansing her with Shes’ sacred magic, we’ll bury her deep underground.”
“Even for an enemy elf… you’d go that far? I thought she’d be used for research or dissection…”
“Don’t be absurd. Do you think I’m some kind of mad scientist? Even an enemy deserves to be treated with respect after death. Dissection, you say? Such a thing would only happen with the deceased’s prior consent.”
Alaya shrugged, looking somewhat somber.
…Such kindness, even toward an enemy.
Swan was struck by admiration once again.
That morning, thrown into this battlefield, he had cursed his superior as a possible madman. But now, he thought differently.
This Dark Healer—who stood on the battlefield, protected his subordinates with his own body, and paid respect to fallen foes—was someone worth following.
Swan still couldn’t imagine growing accustomed to this war. But…
…If Doctor Alaya is my superior, maybe I can make it through this.
“By the way, Doctor Alaya .”
“Hm? What is it?”
“That… ‘staff’ you’ve been carrying on your shoulder—what is it?”
It looked, unmistakably, like the wooden staff the elf had carried.
“Oh, this?” Alaya held it in both hands.
“It’s her last bequest… something she entrusted to me before her end. Knowledge, no matter its origin, deserves to be preserved.”
Twisting the staff’s handle, he revealed its hollow interior. Inside was a tightly rolled black parchment—or rather, parchment densely packed with intricate writing.
