A Hospital in Another World? - Chapter 262

Garrett spent the morning at the clinic. The clinic was quiet all morning, not even a single person with a cold came in. Garrett, ready and waiting, found himself with nothing to do, except for a sparrow hopping around the doorstep, entertained by an apprentice priest sitting there.

Real-deal tumbleweeds.

Hmm… as a doctor, he really shouldn’t wish for people to get sick or injured. Even during night shifts, if there were no emergency rescues, it might be worth giving a few apples to the god of night shifts and throwing in a couple of extra milk cartons.

But… if I had known it would be like this, I might as well have stayed at home and done animal experiments…

Garrett decided to take matters into his own hands. He changed out of his priest robes, set aside his oak staff, pinned on his mage badge, and took Bernard for a stroll to the fleet’s headquarters.

Regardless, as long as the fleet was still docked, there would be training going on, and where there’s training, there’s bound to be injuries… If not, at least a few scrapes, right?

He knew his way around, sneaking in through the gate of the infirmary. After testing sodium ascorbate for ten consecutive days, Garrett had become familiar enough with the guards to come and go as he pleased. With just a nod, he and the barbarians sneaked along the edge of the dormitory and made their way to the training ground.

On the training ground, it was bustling with activity.

The Council fleet’s training ground was set by the sea, half water and half land. At the moment, two single-masted sailing ships were moored side by side at the pier, with gangplanks set up in between. A group of prospective sailors, under the command of instructors, climbed the masts and pulled the rigging, busy as bees. From their movements, it seemed that one team was attacking while the other was defending, simulating boarding combat.

There was another group of older sailors, dressed more roughly, carrying barrels and crates, chanting as they ran laps around the training ground. And then there were two groups, about twenty or so sailors each, sitting in rowboats on level ground, gripping wooden oars and rowing hard.

Everyone’s heads were steaming with sweat, breathing in and out, exhaling white mist. The temperature of the entire training ground seemed to be a degree or two higher than that of the surrounding area.

Garrett tried to stick close to the edge of the field. The runners shouldn’t get injured, and neither should the rowers… The group simulating combat seemed a bit dangerous… Maybe he should go over there and take a look?

He cautiously made his way around. Just as he reached halfway, he suddenly heard a command not far away:

“Fireball spell! Get down!”

Garrett froze in his tracks. Before he could even see clearly what was happening around him, he was tackled to the ground by the barbarians…

“Ouch…”

Garrett let out a small groan. However, his voice was drowned out by the cries of panic:

“Quick, take cover! – My Lord Bishop!”

“Boom!!!”

A blazing fireball, perfectly round, detonated against the mast, apparently accidentally cast by the mage in charge of the exercise. The deck shattered, the hull flew sideways, and the dilapidated single-masted sailing ship, which was only fit for training sailors, saw its mast creak and crash down, threatening to crush the sailors below.

“Bernard! Help them!”

Garrett shouted urgently. With a light push, the barbarian dashed out like a cannonball, heading straight for the direction of the mast. But faster than him was a fierce white light:

“Fla——”

The light struck first, thundering down like a bolt, hitting the side of the mast. The thick oak mast, the size of a bowl, was actually deflected by the white light, missing the startled young trainee by a couple of feet before crashing down with a bang, sending up a cloud of dust and gravel.

At the same time, figures dashed out from the sidelines of the training ground, not just one knight but several. Garrett even saw William Thompson, the fleet logistics officer he had dealt with before, among the crowd, running and shouting:

“Bishop Hampton! Save them!!!”

“I’m coming too!” Garrett got up and rushed over.

A seventh-level warrior priest, a seventh-level barbarian warrior, along with three or four knights, all pitched in. Soon, more than twenty injured sailors were all rescued, lined up in a row.

Two who were knocked unconscious into the water, three burned in the explosion of the fireball, a dozen or so stabbed by various wooden pieces and nails, bleeding profusely, as well as grazes and bruises…

Then, the logistics officer cast an expectant gaze toward the Lord Bishop:

“Bishop Hampton, please… huh?”

At the end of the line of wounded soldiers, Garrett was already kneeling on the ground, performing CPR on a young soldier…

“Young man, who are you?”

The Lord Bishop blurted out. Garrett, in the midst of his busy work, raised his head:

“I am also a healer! — This one next to me is the most seriously injured; let’s save him first!”

“Alright!”

The warrior bishop didn’t have time to question further. He immediately bent down to check on the condition of the wounded soldier and activated his healing magic. After four or five consecutive spells, a soldier who was coughing up blood, two severely burned soldiers, and a soldier with a broken leg were all back on their feet, good as new. Bishop Hampton breathed a sigh of relief and turned to look at Garrett:

“What are you doing?”

Inside the makeshift tent, Garrett was unfolding a large piece of green cloth and covering the wounded lying on the long table…

“He has a nail stuck in his collarbone, and I need to remove it.” Garrett replied without looking up. As he rotated around, one, two, three, four, four large pieces of green cloth had already covered the wounded tightly, leaving only a patch on their chests. He was still explaining to the wounded:

“Stay still, it won’t hurt, don’t be afraid. You lie still, and I won’t tie you up, okay?”

“Okay…”

Came the muffled reply from beneath the cloth. Bishop Hampton’s curiosity was piqued, and he hurried over to take a look. Just as he reached the entrance of the tent, he saw Garrett pull out a small knife, its silver blade shimmering, exceptionally sharp, and compare it against the area near the wounded soldier’s collarbone.

“You… wait a minute! You haven’t even used the pain-relief magic! Bishop Hampton started to intervene. He had just uttered one word when Garrett aimed the tip of the knife at the wounded soldier’s collarbone, chanting softly. A somewhat familiar, yet somewhat unfamiliar, magical wave descended immediately.

He made a cut. Bishop Hampton clearly saw the wounded soldier tremble slightly, but his muscles didn’t tense up, nor did he let out a sharp cry of pain—It doesn’t hurt, it really doesn’t hurt!

“Are you casting [Alleviate Pain]? Why is it different? The magical wave is much smaller?” The Lord Bishop couldn’t help but ask. He

immediately realized his slip of the tongue, smiled, and waved his hand, indicating that Garrett didn’t need to answer. However, almost immediately, this warrior bishop widened his eyes and took a few steps forward:

“What are you doing? – It’s just a nail, why are you cutting his flesh? If you’re not confident, I’ll do it!”

“Don’t touch him!”

The position where the nail was stuck was too delicate, slanting into the space below the clavicle, wedged between the subclavian vein and the subclavian artery. Slant it a little to the side, and it would hit the external jugular vein, the suprascapular vein, the suprascapular artery, the brachial plexus, a tangle of blood vessels and nerves, all bunched together. With the magic detection activated, when he saw the position of the nail, he was sweating! This sailor was lucky not to have died!

He was afraid that the bishop would be clumsy, so he hurriedly performed the surgery, cutting open the skin with the surgical knife, using the mage hand to hold the nail in place. Then, he used the mage hand to hold the hook, gradually separating and pulling apart the sternocleidomastoid and pectoralis major muscles. Then with a wave of his hand, several mage hands turned into vascular clamps, snapping shut one by one, closing off the surrounding blood vessels.

“All right, you can pull it out now!”

“Let me, let me!”

Bishop Hampton rushed up, his right hand shimmering with white light, reaching for the nail. Garrett glanced at it and didn’t stop him. The Lord Bishop exerted force and pulled it up, with a swoosh, bringing out a small trickle of blood.

Garrett already had a piece of gauze ready on the side. Seeing the blood flow, he promptly pressed it down. Then, he took out a small silver rod and pointed the glass filament at the wound nearby!

“Treat minor injuries! Treat vascular abrasions!”

Open up the subclavian artery! No active bleeding! Open up the subclavian vein! No active bleeding! Open up the external jugular vein, the suprascapular vein, the subclavian vein…

One by one, mage hands opened, moved, and disappeared. Garrett finally released the hook, leaned back:

“No problem now. Bishop Hampton, it’s up to you next…”

“I’ll do it, I’ll do it!” Bishop Hampton rubbed his hands and stepped forward:

“Hey, you pulled out that nail so neatly, clearly cut several times, yet there’s so little bleeding!”

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