Chapter 16

He was supposed to have been liberated from the sweat-soaked rescue operations of the mock battles—as only parade rehearsals remained—yet it was only an hour later that Dennis found his room being barged into with a shout of “It’s an emergency!”

Because the continuous use of Holy Power placed a significant burden on the caster, the shifts for Holy Medical Mentors were meticulously scheduled in advance.

From what he heard, the injured party was a commoner-born knight. Dennis tried to make them wait until a colleague on duty returned, but he was roared at by the messenger knight and practically dragged to the scene.

‘What a bunch of savages!’

Dennis cursed inwardly as he was forced back into proximity with the group of burly brutes.

There was supposed to be a firm status divide between the nobility and the knights’ order, but ever since the Second Prince joined, they had become utterly full of themselves.

To kidnap Dennis, who was the son of a Baron after all, was the height of insolence.

However, realizing he was no match for them if it came to blows, Dennis barely managed to swallow his rage.

And then—

“…What is this?”

The moment he laid eyes on the “patient” lying in the gazebo near the training grounds, his anger vanished entirely.

There, he was met with a scene of carnage so gruesome that even he, who was supposed to be accustomed to seeing a certain degree of injury, wanted to shield his eyes.

On the stone floor lay a young man who looked only slightly older than Dennis. The right leg of his trousers had been cut off below the knee, exposing his bare leg as he lay on his back.

No—perhaps it was more accurate to say it used to be a bare leg.

The flesh from the shin down was jaggedly torn, and the ankle was twisted in a grotesque direction.

Through the gaps in the meat, he could see slimy, glistening sinew and white bone.

To top it off, despite a cloth being tied just below the knee as a tourniquet, blood was still spurting out strangely at intervals.

It didn’t look like a simple injury—it looked like something cursed.

“It’s a cursed tool.”

One of the knights who had brought him spoke up.

His face twisted in loathing as he thrust something toward Dennis—a horseshoe covered in cloth so it wouldn’t be touched by bare hands.

“The shoes of the horse he was riding had been swapped with this. It looks like a work of art, but after walking for a bit, it shatters, and the fragments pierce the legs. That made the horse go wild and throw him off. To make matters worse, it trampled his leg along with the fragments. Right now, those shards are spreading a curse inside his leg.”

“That’s horrible…”

Dennis wondered who would do such a thing, and why.

But hearing the young man on the ground let out a beastly groan—apparently, having a high tolerance for pain meant he couldn’t even lose consciousness—Dennis snapped back to reality.

For now, he had to treat him.

Dennis dropped a knee onto the blood-stained floor and timidly reached out toward the young man’s leg.

He swallowed hard at the sight of the nauseating wound.

Being a rookie—and because most things could be fixed just by chanting a prayer—Dennis had never encountered a scene this horrific before.

“O… O supreme light that pours from the heavens. Respond to my pra—prayer, and with your noble lamp of mercy, take this pitiful ch-child of the earth…”

His voice trembled.

Just then, blood sprayed from the wound once more.

“Waaaaah!”

Dennis let out a pathetic shriek and collapsed backward.

“You idiot! Don’t be the one screaming when you’re the doctor!”

Immediately, the fellow knight who had been desperately holding the hand of the young man—apparently named Theo—raised his voice in a roar.

Dennis’s shoulders jumped at the angry shout. He managed to face Theo again, but the wound was so grotesque he could hardly bear to look at it.

“P-pitiful child of the earth, embrace and h-hea…”

His outstretched hands shook.

He had heard from his mentor, Marquis Rottner, that the activation of Holy Power required a clear image.

In other words, to heal a wound, one had to vividly imagine the shattered bones knitting back together and the torn flesh closing up.

‘I… I can’t…!’

Dennis felt like he was going to faint.

But before him, Theo was roaring through beads of greasy sweat like a literally wounded beast.

He was in pain.

He was suffering.

Status meant nothing here.

There was an overwhelming cruelty before him that blew away any shallow prejudice about peasant-born people being sturdy. The sheer weight of what he had to save pressed down on him.

“Embrace, heal, and b-bestow your blessing…!”

Fueled by a newly sprouted sense of responsibility, he managed to chant the words of prayer.

However—the wound, which should have emitted phosphorescence and closed, showed no sign of change whatsoever.

“Ble—Blessing! Bestow your blessing!”

Why?

Dennis panicked.

“Blessing! Please…!”

He shouted until his throat felt like it would tear, but the situation did not change.

No, on the contrary—as if resisting the Holy Word—blood gushed out in a dark surge once again.

Seeing that, Dennis realized the truth with a sense of despair.

“The cursed tool… is reflecting the Holy Power…!”

“What did you say…!?”

The surrounding knights stirred in an uproar.

Turning pale from the shock, Dennis conveyed his realization in a trembling voice.

“A-A fragment of the cursed tool embedded somewhere inside the leg is reflecting the Holy Power. The wound won’t accept the healing arts. At… at this rate, he’ll lose all the blood in his body and…”

Die—even he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

However, everyone present seemed to understand.

Out of the crowd that had gathered, the person who seemed to have the most authority—the Vice-Company Commander—clenched his jaw tight before speaking in a low voice.

“You lot. Hold Theo’s body down. And get a gag so he doesn’t bite his tongue.”

“…Vice-Commander…”

The other knights nodded with somber expressions.

Only Dennis, who failed to grasp the true intention, turned a bewildered gaze toward the Vice-Commander.

“What on earth are you…?”

“I’m cutting off Theo’s leg.”

“Wh…!”

Ignoring the speechless boy, the man called Vice-Commander drew his sword with an expression that suggested he was fighting back his own pain.

“The point is, we just need to separate the fragments of the cursed tool from his body. You can at least close the stump, can’t you?”

“That’s horrible…! You might be able to close the wound, but you can’t bring back a lost leg!”

“Then what else are we supposed to do!”

Silenced by the shout, he couldn’t offer any further rebuttal.

Overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness, he watched as the knights prepared for the amputation.

‘Can I… do nothing…?’

Their conversation felt like it was happening behind a thick membrane.

‘A cursed tool… it would lose its efficacy if you just doused it in Holy Water. But because I can’t get the fragments out, I can’t even do something as basic as that…?’

If so, what kind of Holy Medical Mentor was he? What use were healing arts?

Even if he could stick flesh back together, how was that any different from being good at making clay models—!

Ahead of him, he saw the Vice-Commander take a bottle of distilled spirits from one of the knights.

He knelt beside Theo, his fierce face softening into a gentle expression usually reserved for a child.

“Theo, you love this stuff, don’t you? Drink as much as you want. There’s nothing to be afraid of. My sword is quite sharp.”

“Uugh… ah, a… th-thank… y…”

Theo nodded desperately through the beads of greasy sweat.

Amidst his groans, he seemed to be trying to voice his gratitude.

Amputation, with pain and fear numbed only by alcohol.

That torture-like scene was about to unfold.

‘Can I… not save him?!’

Without realizing it, Dennis clenched his fists as tears welled in his eyes.

Just then.

“Please wait.”

A low, cool voice, seemingly belonging to a young girl, called out from behind.

Everyone present turned around.

A small girl, receiving dozens of stares with total composure, held her bare hands up in the air in a strange pose and spoke flatly.

“Wouldn’t you like to use those distilled spirits more effectively? Specifically, please let me use them to sterilize my hands.”

Her slender white arms and the thick glasses that hid her face shone brilliantly as they reflected the sunlight.