Hello, I’m Swan Veister.
It’s been a week since I arrived at the battlefield with the Western Elven Nation.
So far, I’ve been managing to stay in good spirits.
“…I mean, you really do get used to things, huh.”
At the newly set-up medical camp, Swan let out a breath after completing yet another Dark Heal. She even allowed herself a small smile—today had been a good pace for performing Dark Heals.
Of course, the state of the battle hadn’t changed much since the first day.
Today, as always, there were plenty of severely injured and critically wounded soldiers.
…But really, just because I might feel down, it wouldn’t mean fewer injured soldiers, would it?
Seeing the wounded soldiers naturally brought her sadness. However, perhaps as a defense mechanism, she had subconsciously learned how to dull her emotional responses. Otherwise, it would be impossible to maintain a sound mind while facing such relentless suffering.
“Getting used to things really is a remarkable ability,” she muttered.
Hearing her remark, two cadets who had just finished treating another injured soldier chuckled. One was a lean orc youth, and the other a burly ghoul. They bared their teeth in amused grins.
“On the first and second days, you were mentally railing against this whole setup, weren’t you? Thinking, ‘What a hellhole, watching so many people drop like flies.'”
“Yeah, and when we got dragged into that large-scale battle with five elves on the third day, I was sure I was going to die.”
“Your arm got blown clean off, too.”
“And guess what Dr. Alaya said when he saw me? ‘Lucky you,’ can you believe it?”
“Yeah, that sounds exactly like him. That madman doesn’t see anything short of death as unlucky. And look, he patched you up perfectly, didn’t he?”
“Sure did. It took him barely a minute. But until then, I was cursing him under my breath while wetting myself.”
“Can’t blame you. He’s always got that smirk on his face while performing Dark Heals. Infuriating, really.”
The two bantered and laughed, but as soon as a new wave of injured soldiers arrived, they quickly transitioned to performing precise and efficient Dark Heals. This quick adaptability and accuracy were also the results of getting used to the battlefield.
“Still, he’s kinder than I expected, isn’t he?”
As Swan raised her hand to signal readiness to receive the next patient, she added,
“Dr. Alaya never abandons his patients or us. Even when he seems cold or outright mad, at his core, he’s someone who lives to save others.”
The orc and ghoul smirked at her words and shrugged.
“Everyone’s already figured that out by now. On a battlefield where death is a constant shadow, he keeps performing Dark Heals without flinching, even when facing elves head-on. That kind of responsibility and courage is why he’s a high-ranking officer in the Demon Nation.”
“It’s no wonder they call him a hero of the battlefield. If you’re stuck in hell, having someone like him around doesn’t make it so bad.”
…Exactly!!!
Swan couldn’t help but smile broadly. These two were clearly just as fond of and trusting toward Dr. Alaya as she was.
Of course, it was unfortunate that not all twenty-one cadets had ended up feeling the same way.
––In just one week, four had died, and eight had dropped out. Only nine of her peers remained here.
Most of the dropouts had succumbed to mental exhaustion and were reassigned to positions as military doctors within the Demon Nation’s interior. It seemed Alaya had anticipated such outcomes and had prepared a retreat option for them.
From the beginning, they were told that the two-month training period came with the option to “retire at any time.”
Still, some had chosen to leave the military entirely. Among them was Usari, a magic rabbit who had been close to Swan.
“I’m sorry, Swan… I just can’t sleep anymore. The battlefield isn’t for me,” Usari had said two days ago, her ears drooping apologetically as she prepared to return home.
She planned to rest and recover. Swan hoped she would get to see her cheerful self again someday.
“––How’s everyone holding up?”
A voice suddenly called out beside them.
It was Alaya, appearing soundlessly like a zombie, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his white coat.
“Good work, Doctor! Treatments are progressing smoothly!”
“You seem to be doing well, Swan. And you two?”
The orc and ghoul both stiffened, their shoulders jerking upward in unison as they forced awkward smiles.
“Uh, yes. We’re doing well enough… By the way, Doctor, how much of our conversation did you overhear…?”
“Hm? What conversation?”
“Oh, nothing! You didn’t hear anything, huh…”
The two visibly relaxed, but Alaya’s sharp gaze caught on quickly.
“Oh? Were you perhaps talking behind my back?”
“Wh-When did––no, no, no, of course not!”
The two demons turned pale, shaking their heads and waving their hands in denial.
In truth, there might have been a hint of light grumbling in their earlier banter, but it was playful, almost like a form of affection.
“Ha ha, it doesn’t bother me,” Alaya said with an eerie smile. “It’s good to see you still have the energy to complain.”
Then, as if dropping a bombshell, he added, “Due to the expansion of our territory, it seems we’re short on medical camps at the front line. So… three days from now, I and you candidates will set up a new medical camp on the front line.”
“What?”
“Rejoice! It’s an opportunity to treat even more patients,” he said, genuinely pleased.
Even Swan, who had weathered much, couldn’t help but turn pale at this.
“—Did you hear about the situation three days from now?”
Night. During a rare break in their duties as field medics, the nine remaining candidates gathered in a corner of the medical camp.
“You mean how it’s just going to be Dr. Alaya and us setting up a camp right on the front line?”
“Yeah, seriously, that’s insane. Can you imagine how many wounded soldiers are going to flood in?”
“I was just starting to adjust to this environment and gain some confidence. Now we’re going to collapse again from magical power depletion.”
The group whispered nervously, their pale faces huddled close together. However, they weren’t merely venting complaints.
“If we can’t handle it now, we need to figure out how we can,” one of them said firmly.
They were well aware of their shortcomings. Any naive dreams of becoming battlefield heroes like Dr. Alaya had been shattered on their first day.
“As medics, regardless of magical exhaustion or any other issue, we can’t let the patients entrusted to us die so easily.”
Despite their fears, none of the remaining candidates had given up. Just one week—a short time, but long enough to harden their resolve. They had turned down the “paradise ticket” of working as military doctors in the safer interior, choosing instead to survive and fulfill their duties in this hellish battlefield.
“Ahem… Does anyone have any ideas?” asked Goliath, a youth of the magic gorilla race, whose body was covered in tough black fur and who exuded natural leadership.
As many remained deep in thought, Swan hesitantly raised her hand.
“Um, I have a suggestion… During my practice sessions at the Alaya General Hospital, Usari taught me something. Since the Dark Healing spell from the Black Healing Tome consumes a lot of magical power, we could conserve magic by performing parts of the treatment manually, without relying on the tome.”
“Mm… That makes sense. Conservation is key. We don’t have the vast reserves of magical power that Dr. Alaya does,” Goliath agreed, and the other candidates nodded deeply.
“That man acts like we have infinite magic, just like him… I can’t count how many times I’ve suffered from magical depletion this past week,” one of them grumbled.
Listening to her comrades, a thought struck Swan.
…Magical depletion? Dr. Alaya must be fully aware of how dangerous that condition can be. So why would he still push us into such an extreme situation?
Could he be intentionally driving us into magical depletion?
“Is it possible that the doctor is deliberately trying to bring us to the brink of magical exhaustion?” Swan murmured, causing Goliath’s eyes to widen.
“Whuh? But why would he do that?” Goliath asked.
“Dr. Alaya would never make us suffer without reason. If he’s doing this, there must be a purpose…” Swan reasoned.
“If it’s to deliberately deplete our magic using the Black Healing Tome, that starts sounding like a conspiracy theory,” Goliath muttered.
“…! The Black Healing Tome…!”
An epiphany struck Swan.
“That might be it…!”
She recited a passage from the tome that had left an impression on her:
“Faced with an impregnable enemy, the Savior declared: ‘If you lack, then supplement. But first, you must know your own limits.’ The Savior drove their chariot, crushing soldiers beneath it. Then, using the power of their magic, they repelled the sacred Guardian. The Savior was one who understood both their weaknesses and their strengths. Weakness and strength alike were the Savior’s allies.”
“…Uhho, what does that mean? In other words, the passage is saying that if you truly understand yourself, you can even turn your weaknesses into allies. It’s certainly a wonderful teaching, but…”
“If we were to apply this passage to our current situation, the ‘chariot’ that compensates for our lack of ability is this ‘Black Healing Tome.’ Then, what do you think our own strength refers to?”
“Unho…?”
“I think… that because we rely solely on the Black Healing Tome, we currently have nothing we can proudly call our own strength,” Swan said.
As the other trainees fell silent, Swan paused and took a breath before continuing.
“Doctor Alaya—the Savior—might be trying to convey something to us through our experience of mana depletion: ‘How long are you going to rely entirely on the Black Healing Tome?'”
“Uhoh! That’s…!”
Each trainee took out their personal copy of the Black Healing Tome, gazing at its worn cover. These books, dog-eared from countless readings and reviews, had become indispensable to them.
“…Uhho, you’re right. We’ve been so blinded by convenience that relying on the Black Healing Tome has become the foundation for everything we do…”
“Exactly. We need to reflect on that. In reality, the Doctor never even opens the Black Healing Tome he created. He fights as a military doctor with just his own skills. I believe he’s been showing us this every day to help us realize this issue on our own.”
“Uho, I see. Indeed, in such an overwhelmingly busy environment, if we were simply told, ‘Don’t rely on the Black Healing Tome,’ we might not have complied. He likely foresaw that.”
Goliath nodded in agreement.
“Uho, in that case… the task is clear.”
“Yes, it is.”
Swan responded and then proposed,
“Let’s take some time out of our work and gather the nine of us to hold ‘study sessions!'”
Thanks to the Black Healing Tome, they had grasped the essentials of universal-type Dark Heal.
What remained was to practice and refine their techniques, teach each other, and share treatment knowledge specific to their various species…
Someday, they could reduce mana consumption to the bare minimum and perform universal-type Dark Heal just like Doctor Alaya!
The trainees eagerly voiced their agreement.
