Iron Powder and Spellcaster

For a soldier, the most tragic thing is failure, and the next most tragic thing is victory.

If anyone doesn't believe this, just take him to the Wounded Barracks.

In order to prevent morale from being affected by the wounded, the medical center of the Plato Army was located in the most remote corner of the camp.

Late at night, inside the half-open military tent.

Several surgeons rolled up their sleeves like butchers and were busy in front of the operating table.

They use hacksaws and soldering irons more than sharp scalpels and delicate tweezers.

The screams of the wounded soldiers were endless, and the listeners were all horrified.

Amputated arms and legs were piled randomly outside the tent, some of them still carrying fragments of military uniforms.

It was dark at night, and some people accidentally stepped on it, thinking they were stepping on randomly thrown wood waste.

The medical clinic looked like a slaughterhouse, and everyone who saw this scene for the first time could not help but want to vomit.

The military doctors and their assistants were obviously used to walking around in the bloody mud.

Please don't blame them. The medical treatment they provided was far beyond that of any other army at the time.

The sound of gunfire came from not far away, it was the barbarians attacking the southern camp wall.

The Platons raided the fortress, and the barbarians responded in kind.

The battle is not over. Even though the medical center is overloaded, more and more wounded soldiers are crying and waiting for treatment.

"Kaman!" Winters, covered in blood, broke into the medical center and looked around frantically: "Doctor! Priest Kaman!"

A team that seemed to have returned from hell followed the centurion, with the lightly wounded carrying the seriously injured, and almost everyone was uninjured.

In the tent in the corner of the medical center, Kaman was undergoing surgery.

His face was pale and his expression was tired. Except for the holy symbol hanging on his chest, there was no trace of the priest.

The left tibia of the wounded soldier lying on the operating table was smashed to pieces by a blunt instrument and had to be amputated.

"What's going on outside?"

Hearing the commotion outside the tent, Kaman asked without raising his head, but the movements of his hands did not stop for a moment.

The sharp scalpel cuts through the skin, fat and tendons until the white bones are exposed.

His assistant held a red-hot iron and stopped the bleeding from time to time.

Three other strong assistants firmly controlled the wounded man who had drunk strong alcohol, preventing him from struggling or moving.

Speed ​​is life. The sooner the amputation operation is completed, the greater the chance of survival of the injured person.

"It's Centurion Montagne!" exclaimed another of Carman's assistants.

"Send the remaining wounded to other doctors! Immediately!" Kaman dropped the scalpel, grabbed the hacksaw, and started sawing the tibia.

His hands were very steady, and he sawed off the tibia and fibula in a dozen strokes. The assistant promptly used a soldering iron to stop the bleeding and took over the suturing work in a tacit understanding.

From the time the scalpel cuts the skin to the completion of the amputation, it takes less than three minutes in total.

"Here!" Carman walked out of the tent, waved and shouted: "Mr. Montagne! Here!"

Kaman's face became paler as he saw familiar faces being carried into the medical center one after another.

Carman asked Winters point-blank: "Where is Mr. Mitchell Jr.?"

"In the back." Winters' eyes were sore: "He was hit by an arrow in the neck and is about to die."

He watched helplessly as Pierre, who was clearing the way for the whole team, was shot down by a stray arrow. Angelou, Bell and Vashika fought desperately to get their partners back.

But he couldn't stop, because he was holding the military flag and everyone was looking at him.

The Jessica Brigade relied on a burst of energy to penetrate the enemy and fight their way back to the base camp.

"Send Mr. Mitchell to the operating table!" Carman asked Winters again: "How are you?"

"I'm fine." Winters' face was hidden under the iron helmet because he didn't want others to see the tears: "But..."

"It doesn't matter." Kaman said softly: "Leave it to me."

…

"Don't saw my arm! No!" Andre shouted desperately: "Whoever dares to do it...I will kill you!"

The soldiers held down his limbs tightly, fearing that Lieutenant Cellini's wounds would burst again.

Andre tried desperately to break free, but he had no strength left due to excessive blood loss.

Andre's consciousness gradually blurred, and he cried and begged: "Don't let them saw my arm... Winters... don't let them..."

Andre's voice became weaker and weaker, and soon he fell into coma again, and the excitement just now was just a flashback.

Winters' heart felt as painful as a knife. He could hardly stand still and listened to the military doctor's words like a zombie.

The chief military doctor told Winters: "Second Lieutenant Cellini's wound cannot be sutured and must be amputated as soon as possible. Otherwise, Lieutenant Cellini's life will be in danger."

The chief military surgeon also told Winters: "The lead bullet fragments cannot be removed, and Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's right eye also needs to be removed."

Winters came to Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's bedside, overwhelmed by endless grief and powerlessness.

"Is that you?" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica stretched out his hand and groped into the darkness: "Second Lieutenant Montagne?"

Winters held Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's hand tightly, tears welling up in his eyes: "Lieutenant Colonel, it's me."

"Don't cry, Winters." Lieutenant Colonel Jessica, who usually had a straight face, was now completely relaxed.

His expression was peaceful and calm, as if he didn't feel sad for himself at all: "If the earthen pot is not broken outside the well, the general will inevitably die before the battle. Isn't this a common thing?"

The tent was quiet, only soft sobs could be heard.

"Do you have any alcohol on you?" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica asked softly.

Winters didn't have a drinking habit, but he didn't have the heart to say "no." He suddenly remembered the wine flask given by Arpad, which he had always carried with him.

Winters immediately took out the wine bottle and placed it in Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's hand.

"Oh, it's this jug." Lieutenant Colonel Jessica felt the shape of the jug, unscrewed the lid and took a sip.

Then, he fumbled and took out a chinos bag from his arms: "I'll give you a gift, Winters."

"No, I can't have it." At this moment, Winters couldn't accept the lieutenant colonel's gift.

"Open it first and take a look." Lieutenant Colonel Jessica seemed to be smiling.

Inside the chinos bag is an oilcloth bag, and inside the oilcloth bag are maps, many, many maps. From the Great Wasteland to Plato, it was all drawn by Lieutenant Colonel Jashka himself.

"I don't need this thing anymore, it will be yours from now on. Don't throw away the skills you learned from the homework on the map, it will be of great use." Lieutenant Colonel Jashka lay calmly on the military couch, as if he had settled a worry: "Let's go Come on, let me rest for a while."

…

Kaman found Winters in an uninhabited corner of the medical center: "Second Lieutenant Cellini wants to amputate his leg?"

After wiping away his tears, Winters turned around and said, "Yes."

"Take me to see him."

The officers' and soldiers' medical clinics are not in the same place. Kaman was in the soldiers' medical clinic before, while Lieutenant Colonel Jessica and Andre were both in the officers' medical clinic.

Winters led Kaman into the operating tent. Andre had been carried to the operating table and was about to operate.

Kaman ignored the surprised looks of others and walked straight to Andre to check the wound.

"Second Lieutenant Montagne, what are you going to do?" the chief military doctor asked dissatisfiedly.

The chief military surgeon has no military rank and has the same status as a school officer, far more noble than a centurion.

Winters stood in front of the chief military surgeon without saying a word. He didn't know what Kaman was going to do.

"Don't let them saw off my arm," Andre's desperate plea echoed in his ears.

If Andre had to be amputated, Winters would rather have Kaman perform the surgery.

"Get out! I'm going to have surgery!"

Winters didn't move.

"Do you want to kill Second Lieutenant Cellini?" the chief military doctor snapped.

Kaman suddenly said: "Carry it to me!"

Winters nodded, and four more ferocious soldiers came in, lifted the operating table and walked out of the military tent.

No one dared to stop him.

Andre was carried back to Kaman's operating tent. His vital signs were getting weaker and weaker.

The unconscious Andre was still muttering and pleading: "Don't saw...don't saw my arm..."

Kaman lowered the curtains, covered the windows, and chased everyone away—including his medical assistant.

Apart from him and Andre, Winters was the only one left in the tent as an assistant.

"More lights!" said Carman

Winters activated his fire spell and lit all the oil lamps in the tent.

Kaman held out an unattractive black wooden box.

Opening the wooden box, a set of silver surgical instruments shined under the light.

This set of equipment is extremely exquisite, even more exquisite than the set of bloodletting equipment Winters saw in the dungeon of Aquamarine City. The forceps alone come in twelve sizes.

Kaman chose one of the tweezers: "Give me the light!"

Winters held an oil lamp and illuminated Andre's wounds for Carman.

Kaman narrowed his eyes and began to use tweezers to pick out the lead fragments from Andre's wound.

"It's not bright enough! We need more oil lamps!" Kaman's tone left no room for doubt.

Winters picked up another oil lamp.

"It's still not bright enough!"

Winters put down the oil lamp, took out the casting materials, and launched the light spell without reservation.

The dazzling white light instantly filled the military tent, even to the point of dazzling the eyes.

"That's it! Keep it up!"

Kaman moved quickly and removed the lead fragments from the horrific wound on Andre's right arm one by one.

This is an extremely delicate job, like carving on a walnut.

Some of the fragments were so small that they were no bigger than a grain of wheat. Some fragments were embedded in the flesh, requiring the skin to be cut open before removal.

Kaman put the removed fragments on a plate and roughly pieced them together into the shape of a lead piece, with only some parts missing.

After checking three times in a row, Kaman confirmed that there was no residual shrapnel in the wound.

"No more." Kaman said to himself: "The damage to the lead bullet in the plate should be the part that broke when it penetrated the arm armor, and did not penetrate Mr. Cellini's arm."

Winters was on the verge of reaching his spellcasting limit.

The consumption of light spell is not particularly large, provided that the caster controls the magic output power. If it is activated without reservation, no spell can last long.

After hearing Kaman's words, Winters suddenly relaxed, and the bright light in his hand instantly dimmed by three points.

"Keep it! It's not over yet!" Kaman shouted.

Winters gritted his teeth and pushed himself to the breaking point again.

Winters felt as if he had been thrown into a volcano crater one second, and into an ice cellar the next. The phantom pain made his body shake uncontrollably.

The light in his hand became even brighter than before - even hotter.

It's not that Winters' ability breaks through the limit in times of danger, but that he can no longer control the magic output stably and can only push it higher.

With this destined to be short-lived light, Kaman quickly removed the dead flesh, rotten flesh and scabbed flesh from Andre's wound.

The scalpel turned into a fine carving knife. Kaman shaved off the necrotic parts, kept the intact parts, and rearranged the muscles according to their texture.

"I can't hold it anymore!" Winters yelled.

"Okay!" Kaman also shouted.

Winters' eyes darkened and he fell straight down.

In a trance, he heard Kaman chanting: "[Ancient Proverbs] My Lord, forgive our sins and don't let us fall into the fire of hell..."

Winters struggled to his feet and walked to the operating table.

He saw Kaman holding the Holy Emblem tightly, chanting scriptures in a trembling voice, his face pale.

He saw Andre's wounds healing at a speed visible to the naked eye. The muscles broken by the lead sprouted and the broken skin gradually closed up.

"I understand everything. No wonder you know medicine, no wonder you know surgery." Winters's skull was buzzing: "You... you are a user of divine magic!"

Kaman looked extremely tired. He wrapped a piece of bloody gauze around Andre's healed wound: "Did I say I wasn't?"

The magical person that Winters longed for turned out to be hiding beside him. After spending so much time together day and night, he didn't notice at all.

Andre's broken muscles and skin grew back together, and only dark red congestion could be seen under the cortex.

It is somewhat different from the magical magic that the old shaman [Hestas] showed to Winters on Red Sulfur Island.

Winters' wound healed until only a red line remained. After the scab faded once, the red line completely disappeared, and there was no trace of any trauma.

But Andre's wound was very irregular, like a large drop of red ink thrown on the skin, leaving a radiating mark.

"Then you...you..." Winters trembled and wanted to question.

He wanted to ask, "Why don't you identify yourself and help?"

He also wanted to ask, "Do you know how many people a magic user can save?"

But he couldn't ask, his conscience told him: Kaman has saved many people.

Even if Kaman did not reveal his identity as a magical user, he had already saved countless lives.

Can he understand Kaman? How many people can a magical user save if he drains himself dry? What do those who cannot get treatment think?

Just like now, does Kaman get resentment or gratitude?

"Do you want to tell them?" Kaman asked calmly: "Tell them that I can obviously save their lives, but I don't do anything."

Winters lowered his head and remained silent for a while: "No one can save everyone."

"Only the Lord can save everyone." Kaman saluted.

"Thank you, I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything, Mr. Montagne." Carman slowly opened the curtain: "I didn't come here for you. You don't owe me anything."

"Thanks."

"Mr. Cellini is not out of danger yet. Divine magic cannot bring the dead back to life. If his fever goes away, he will live; if his fever does not go away, he will die. Go away and I will take care of him."

Winters had countless questions in his mind. He wanted to ask Kaman: Why did you come to Wolf Town? Why join the army with us?

But seeing Kaman's tired eyes, he couldn't ask.

He wanted to leave, but suddenly he thought of Lieutenant Colonel Jessica, and a spark of hope ignited in his heart: "Can magic heal eyes?"

"I haven't tried it."

…

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica was brought into Kaman's surgery tent.

Kaman put down the scalpel and took Winters outside the tent: "No... I can't remove the lead bullet fragments in the eyes."

Winters punched the fence hard.

"Is it okay to completely remove the eyeball and use magic to 'rebuild' it?" Winters asked in a low voice.

"Stop exploring..." Kaman replied with difficulty: "Divine magic... Divine magic cannot 'treat' an organ as complex as the eye."

"Why?"

Kaman avoided his gaze, almost pleading: "Stop asking..."

Winters was extremely confused, but Kaman's words were sincere and he really couldn't bear to ask anymore.

"Is that the only way?" Winters was sad and angry. Nothing is more despairing than disappointment after hope.

Kaman nodded heavily.

Winters lowered his head and let out a painful sigh for a long time.

A green-helmeted messenger hurried over: "Siring officers, where is Colonel Laszlo? Lieutenant Colonel Robert? Lieutenant Colonel Custer? And Lieutenant Colonel Jessica?"

"What?!" Winters yelled at the messenger.

Sudden Outbreak The messenger was startled by the sudden outburst.

Human beings' joys and sorrows are not the same. In his eyes, this bloody centurion is probably just a bastard who loses his temper.

The messenger stood at attention and said seriously: "General Sackler has summoned the four officers."

Jessica couldn't go to see Sackler. Laszlo, Robert, and Custer can't either, because they also lose.

So Sackler came to the medical clinic himself.

Winters was not qualified to participate, but was retained by Lieutenant Colonel Jessica.

"This guy is very good." Lieutenant Colonel Jessica took Winters' arm and said, "He takes my flag."

Taking the flag means alternation in the language of the Platts - a very serious tone.

The command of the Jessica Brigade was officially transferred. According to custom, this unit should be called the "Montagne Brigade" from now on.

But no one there cared about that; they had more pressing matters.

"Gentlemen?" General Sackler's sharp eyes swept over each subordinate: "What is the mission I give you?"

Thanks to book friends for reading, subscribing, recommending tickets, monthly tickets, tips and comments, thank you all.

Next... In the final scene of the finale, Kaman's appearance takes up too much space.

Note: The foreshadowing about Father Carman being a user of divine magic, as well as other foreshadowings, are all in Chapter 34 "Departure" of Volume 2.

Because it was too long ago, I posted the content here: [The team formed two neat columns, and Father Carman presided over the blessing ceremony of departure.

After the ceremony, Carman led two horses from behind the church yard, one with a saddle and the other with a bag.

"How can we do this without a priest accompanying the army?" the young priest asked with a smile.

Brother Reid walked over from the crowd seeing him off: "Brother Carman, do you want to follow?"

"I won't worry if I don't go with you." Kaman sounded like he was begging for forgiveness.

"Oh, you left, there's no point in me staying here." Red sighed and said to the second lieutenant: "Boy, do you still need a scribe?"

Winters didn't waste any words: "I'll ask Ciel to pack your luggage."

"What kind of luggage do I have?" The old mendicant monk laughed loudly: "I only had two sleeves of breeze when I came, and naturally I only took two sleeves of breeze with me when I left.\