A Hospital in Another World?

One could run a horse to death by trying to reach a distant mountain, but luckily, not a deer.

From where Garrett was located to the Black Crow Dense Forest, and then crossing through to the hunting area, it took almost half a day. Fortunately, the back of the Silvermoon Deer was wide enough that Garrett could sit any way he wanted—left, right, or forward, tossing and turning as he pleased.

Whenever he got tired, he would adjust his position and then continue reading on the deer’s back...

During the great hunt in the Akula period, more than a couple of thousand people were mobilized. Apart from those necessary to stay at the camp, all warriors and spellcasters were deployed. This winter, the fresh meat, furs for trade, and animal tendons and bones used for crafting tools and medicinal ingredients, all depended on this wave!

Warriors spread out in all directions. In an area spanning a thousand miles, nearly a hundred tribes, big and small, gathered, amounting to more than two or three thousand warriors. They formed a large circle based on pre-divided areas, working together to drive the beasts towards the center.

Garrett, sitting on the Silvermoon Deer, only needed to concentrate slightly to hear distant whining sounds, coming and going. It sounded familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before...

“They are using bark whistles to lure the deer,” Bernard explained from behind, pointing towards the distance.

“In the Black Crow Dense Forest, there’s a type of tree where you can peel the bark off and roll it into a whistle, which can mimic the call of a female deer. Skilled hunters can use these whistles to attract male deer, and other animals will follow. Of course, if there are formidable magical beasts, then high-level warriors will have to take action..."

He pointed nearby. Following his direction, Garrett saw elders surrounded by a group of barbarian warriors. Each was tall and muscular, standing there with a formidable presence.

Looking at their weapons, a few carried bone clubs and hammers, but most held steel axes and rods. Each piece gleamed chillingly, reflecting patterns in the sunlight off their steel surfaces, clearly forged by dwarves.

Given the barrenness of the great wastelands, having weapons made by dwarves indicated that these warriors were exceptional.

“When does the battle start?” Garrett sat up straight, stretching his neck to see. The great hunt was interesting, but the luring and trapping before the hunt were not at all appealing—there was no action!

From his position, he could only hear the faint deer whistles and see the trees shaking in the distance. Occasionally, someone lifted a dark cloth high with a long stick and shook it vigorously, though he had no idea what that meant...

Should he cast Eagle Eye on himself? Or wait until the great hunt started?

It was rather boring. Garrett patted the deer’s back:

"Apa, let’s go drink some water!"

The Silvermoon Deer snorted and started walking towards a nearby stream with Garrett and Bernard. This new mount, originally named "Apollo" by Bernard after an ancient divine beast, was shortened by Garrett to "Apa" for convenience.

The Silvermoon Deer didn’t mind; at Garrett’s call, it came over, wagging its tail and kneeling down on all fours to let Garrett climb on. Bernard, unable to do anything about his own boss, watched helplessly while Seraina laughed uncontrollably:

"Apa is a good name. When you ride it alone, if no one manages it, it could easily become—ah, slap!"

"Seraina!!!"

Despite the mockery, Apa accepted its new name. When Garrett gave an order, it would lumber to the stream and lower its head to drink. Bernard jumped down first, and Garrett cast a Feather Fall spell on himself, floating gently to the ground.

Fetching water, setting up the stove, boiling it, and applying a freezing ray, all steps were smoothly done in one go. After filling the waterskin, Garrett poured himself a cup and slowly sipped. Mid-drink, a loud noise erupted from the bushes across the stream, and a group of warriors, covered in blood, burst out of the dense forest.

"Black cloud leopards! It’s the black cloud leopards!"

The warrior at the front shouted. By Garrett’s side, the sound of the wind whooshed as high-level warriors rushed towards them, some to meet the attack, others to rescue. In the next moment, roars, growls, and shouts filled the air in the forest, branches breaking and crashing down.

Garrett threw the water in his cup to the ground and turned towards the direction of the injured. After a few steps, Apa’s hooves thundered towards him, and Bernard picked him up and leaped onto the deer, the wind roaring past his ears. When they stopped, they were

at the edge of the elder’s circle.

In front of them were the warriors just emerging from the forest, five in total, each injured.

The least injured had his skin peeled back, revealing four claw marks nearly reaching the bone; another had a deer skin patch on his leg, the blood drenching his entire thigh; another had blood all over his arms, chest, and back...

And the most severely injured had half his arm bitten off, lying on the warrior who emerged first, completely unconscious.

The healers were busily at work. Those with their own elders present treated their warriors; those without were tended to by Elder Brock of the host tribe, assisted by two apprentices. Cleaning wounds, chanting spells, applying medicine.

The effects of the healing spells were immediate. Soon, the one with the least injuries had his skin back to normal, the claw marks disappeared, and the skin healed; the one with the leg injury had a smooth thigh again; the one covered in blood at least had his bleeding stopped.

The warriors lay on the ground, pale and weak, but their eyes already shining:

Drawing out a high-tier magical beast meant their mission was complete. This return would surely earn them the best spoils.

Only the warrior with the amputated arm looked desperate. His own tribe’s elder had already treated him, the stump had stopped bleeding, and even a new layer of skin had covered it. His life was no longer in danger. However, the empty space where his limb used to be hung by his side, unable to clench into a fist, swing an axe, or fight...

He was crippled!

He was ruined!

"Elder..."

He trembled as he spoke. In front of him, a middle-aged spellcaster dressed in deer skin and wearing deer antlers shook his head bitterly.

"I can’t do it... Sevi, reattaching limbs, I can’t..."

The deer antlered ritualist turned to look towards the center of the elders’ circle. Throughout Akula, he had only heard of Elder Brock performing the limb reattachment spell once. However, such a high-tier spell, even for Elder Brock, came at a great cost!

Sevi was just a mid-level warrior, and with the great hunt just starting, Elder Brock wouldn’t treat him!

"You can’t... you can’t do it..."

Sevi looked up blankly, his face deathly pale. He looked from one busy spellcaster to another, but none responded to his hope:

No one could save him!

No one could heal him!

With one arm gone, he could only fight with his left, greatly reducing his value to the tribe. Of course, the tribe wouldn’t abandon him or cast him into the wilderness, but beyond survival, he couldn’t expect much more...

No more sufficient, high-quality food to maintain his strength and combat ability. His strength would soon decline, and in a year or two, he would only be able to do low-end tasks like herding cattle, sheep, or patrolling with the low-level warriors.

His wife would no longer receive the rich, soft animal skins and pretty shells for her hair;

His son, who could join the hunting team next year, would no longer receive the steel knife he had long awaited;

His little daughter, whom he had promised to bring back a colorful hairband from Akula...

The young man with the amputated arm started to sob. Around him, the warriors who had returned with him, the high-level warriors guarding the elders, all cast sympathetic glances, but no one came forward to console him.

—What could they console?

What could they help with?

Life on the great wastelands was so tough... No tribe could afford an extra mouth!

Sevi fell to the ground, sobbing loudly. Sobbing, he grabbed the wrapped arm in his embrace and slammed it forcefully to the ground:

"Why bring it back! What for!"

To snatch the arm from the jaws of the black cloud leopard, the team leader had been clawed bloody, his body crisscrossed with wounds...

The bloodied arm fell towards the ground but suddenly stopped its descent. Then it hovered in mid-air, rising, rising...

Sevi’s hair stood on end. Even though he knew a spellcaster had intervened, the eerie scene before him still made him shiver. Then, a young human quickly approached, examining the severed arm. After a moment, he raised his hand to Sevi and asked softly:

"How long have you been injured?"

It was miraculous that he understood the human’s words. Sevi, however, had no mind to marvel at this, trembling as he replied:

"About... a mealtime?"

The battle, the escape, the severe pain—he wasn’t sure how much time had passed—it felt like a year, but also as if it had been just a blink of an eye. Would this answer satisfy him? Would he think it too long, that the arm couldn’t be reattached?

Indeed, the human spellcaster seemed somewhat dissatisfied as he frowned slightly. Sevi held his breath in tension:

Even though he came from a remote frontier, he knew that this Akula had brought a human healer. Bonk had his belly burst in a duel, and it was that human who had healed him, something many elders couldn’t do...

Could he reattach Sevi’s arm?

Would he be willing to treat him?

"Can my arm still be reattached?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Garrett examined the severed limb in his hands and was surprised to find that it still retained a significant amount of vitality. He squatted down, looking eye to eye with the warrior with the severed arm, and answered seriously:

"Let me be clear, your amputation site has already healed, and your life is no longer in danger. I can try to reconnect your arm, but if the results are not satisfactory, it could endanger your life—even so, are you willing to let me try?"

"I’m willing! Of course, I’m willing!" Sevi’s joy was almost incoherent. Supporting himself with his good arm, he crawled up and grabbed Garrett’s garment:

"Sir! Please, I beg you to reconnect it! Please..."

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