Our Family Has Fallen

However, Lance didn’t linger and headed straight to the hastily assembled Field Hospital. He had anticipated severe casualties, but upon entering, he realized the situation was far worse than imagined. Beds were scarce; only the critically injured qualified for one, while those with lighter wounds could only sit aside. Soldiers, many wounded themselves, hurried about. The heavy stench of blood permeated the air, refusing to dissipate.

Medics were assessing a gravely injured soldier. A collapsing high wall had crushed his right leg, causing a comminuted fracture. If they didn’t amputate, his condition could worsen and become life-threatening. Hearing this, the soldier, already pale from blood loss, looked even more distressed. He didn’t fear death, but the thought of becoming disabled—a burden—was worse than dying in battle. He would rather have died on the battlefield.

”Let me!” Lance shouted, striding in. ”It’s not time to give up yet.”

His voice brought hope to the many wounded. Lance wasted no words and immediately took charge. Before him, such severe injuries were easily treated. Even comminuted fractures could be healed as long as the patient was still alive. Only after treating everyone did he finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Lance proved through his actions that Hamlet had not, and would not, abandon them.

However, this situation exposed several serious problems. Firstly, medical conditions were still too poor. The supply of various Potions couldn’t keep up, there were no life-saving Potions, and they lacked proper surgical instruments. Skilled medics were too few, and their techniques were relatively poor. This was understandable, given their current lack of experience.

These problems had to be solved. Grendel could no longer waste time helping him with administrative duties. At this stage, her time should be dedicated to pharmacology, allowing her to utilize her talents. The framework was already established, so someone else could take over her previous tasks. These medics also required intensive training. Without practice, their surgical skills would remain rudimentary, likely limited to crude amputations. Fortunately, with so many Knights injured, they now had ample opportunity to practice.

Lance sensed something and realized Junia, holding a torch, had approached him at some point. She was visibly weak, her face pale, looking as if she had overexerted herself and might collapse at any moment.

”Thank you,” Lance said. ”Without you, many more would have died before I arrived.”

Lance reached out to support her, activating Bless. It replenished the Spiritual Essence she had expended from Casting Spells for healing and also eased her fatigue. He had actually noticed Junia when he first entered; the wounds of the gravely injured all bore traces of her healing Divine Arts. However, her current healing abilities were still quite weak. With so many wounded, she had been forced to continuously cast healing Divine Arts, so it was no wonder she was so exhausted.

”It’s what I should do,” Junia replied directly. She seemed to feel her strength rapidly recovering. How could this be even more effective than Divine Arts?

”Let’s go. Balistan and the others have probably been waiting a long time,” Lance said, releasing her and heading for the exit. On the way, he briefly asked Junia about what had happened from her perspective.

Once he had a general understanding of the situation, Lance couldn’t help but admire Reynard and Barton’s astute foresight. They had noticed the outpost’s situation early on and hired Geralt and Junia in advance. Without this trump card, the cost of holding the outpost, even if successful, would likely have been unbearable for him. But the key to holding the outpost was still Balistan and the soldiers he led. Listening to the descriptions, even Lance felt his blood stir.

But before that, he had something very important to do.

Led by Junia, Lance quickly found the piled-up corpses. Without hesitation, he directly performed the Sacrifice. Hundreds of Heretics’ corpses, including many elites, yielded no special surprises from the Sacrifice—only a continuous return of Spiritual Essence. For Lance, who was nearly depleted, this was the best possible gift.

A moment later, Lance smacked his lips. ”Just average.” This amount of Spiritual Essence no longer satisfied him; an unfilled treasury wouldn’t let a hamster hibernate peacefully through winter. However, this Spiritual Essence temporarily relieved his pressing need.

Soon, Lance saw Balistan. Why hadn’t I seen him earlier? It was because he was now lying in bed.

The battle had also left him with severe injuries, not externally visible ones, but internal damage. The price Balistan paid for stopping the monster’s charge was devastating. His entire arm, indeed, the muscles of half his body, had torn from absorbing the overwhelming force. Burst blood vessels oozed, turning the whole arm a grotesque, swollen purple-black, yet it hung limp as if it were rotten flesh. This was merely the superficial damage; the real trouble was the series of problems it triggered.

According to Junia, not long after the battle ended, he had been arranging affairs one moment and collapsed the next. Junia had tried to heal him, but he refused, telling her to treat the soldiers instead.

”’Hold the line’—those were his last words before losing consciousness,” Junia said, looking at Balistan with a burgeoning sense of admiration. If he had retreated after blocking the monster’s charge, instead of continuing to hold his ground and fight, his injuries likely wouldn’t have been so severe. He had actually persevered for so long while injured! This was a level of willpower difficult for others to comprehend, one that even surpassed the limits of the physical body.

But the consequences were clear. An outburst of strength without a source of Supernatural Power was like drawing water from a dry well. This act had overdrawn his body’s reserves. Aging, combined with years of accumulated hidden injuries, erupted at this moment, causing him to lose consciousness and develop a high fever. If Lance hadn’t used Strengthening on him before and repaired some of his injuries, he probably wouldn’t have lasted this long.

Reynard, Dismas, Balistan—all of them had spent nearly half their lives in a relentless cycle: fighting, getting injured, healing, and fighting again. Moreover, as mercenaries adrift without support, their harsh environments offered no chance for proper recuperation, nor could they afford good Potions. Mostly, they survived by sheer toughness. So, even when they recovered, they all accumulated many imperceptible hidden injuries. These hidden injuries were steadily draining their Life Force, accumulating until one day they would reach a breaking point and erupt.

Lance had treated them for this before, but the human body is an extremely complex system. At the time, his Ability level was too low, and his understanding of the Power of Flesh and Blood was insufficient for complete healing. Such injuries were tricky, but fortunately, the ancestors had lent a hand. The feedback of Power of Flesh and Blood from slaying the Warwolf had deepened his understanding of the human body. Now, it was merely a matter of consuming Spiritual Essence.

Balistan himself couldn’t recall how many times he had been this severely injured. His body felt increasingly heavy, to the point where he couldn’t even feel pain anymore. His consciousness gradually blurred, as if drifting outside his body. Sinking... He felt as if something were dragging him into an unfathomable, dark Abyss. He thought he saw the ghosts of those soldiers...

Balistan seemed to realize his end was near.

I depart with a clear conscience. I have given my all...

”He did it, didn’t he?” Lance grinned, extending his hand toward Balistan. ”But this is no time to rest.”

Flesh Reconstruction!

The muscles, nearly turned to pulp by the powerful impact, became full and firm again. His overloaded organs were relieved, severe inflammation soothed, and the accumulated hidden injuries meticulously addressed and erased by Lance. This body, like a rusted sword, had its hidden power reawakened under Lance’s meticulous care.

Lance didn’t stop there. He activated Bless, completing the final Strengthening, like tempering a sword in fire.

When he chose to hold his ground, when he chose to step forward and face the monster, when he stood before his soldiers and shouldered his responsibility... He deserved such treatment. Lance never mistreated his own.

Rise again, my comrade!