Dawn was just beginning to break across the dark sky. By the time Ryoma rushed to the hospital, the grounds were already swarming with people.
Outside the gates, a never-ending line of carriages unloaded a constant stream of casualties suffering from a variety of wounds. Doctors from across the city who had evacuated to the facility were gathered near the entrance, performing triage to determine the severity of injuries and the order of priority for treatment.
Among the sea of medical practitioners, Ryoma spotted a familiar face.
"Hector-san! I’ve come to help!"
"Ryoma! Get yourself ready and head through the breakroom to the examination rooms! Master Mafrar is waiting!"
"Understood! Yudum-san, please go and inform Hughes-san and the others about the incident we discussed. Once you're done, come back and assist however you can!"
"Copy that!"
Following the instructions, Ryoma headed for the changing room. Even as he hurried through the halls, he saw the sheer scale of the tragedy reflected in the rows of injured lining the corridors.
Screams and frantic shouts echoed through the waiting rooms. Those awaiting treatment bore their agony with anxious, strained faces, while medical staff and volunteers ran themselves ragged trying to keep up with the demand.
Anxious to join the effort, Ryoma sprinted into the changing room.
"Ugh! Agh! Gaaah!"
"Hold him down, firmly!"
"The bleeding won't stop!"
"Healing magic, now! Hurry!"
After swapping his clothes for clean attire and a white coat, Ryoma entered the trauma ward, accompanied by three of his slimes. This section was reserved for the most critical cases. The air was heavy with the cries of the suffering and the sharp commands of doctors. It was a gruesome scene; the floor was stained with blood, and frantic footprints marked the passage of the staff.
"Ryoma-kun! Over here, help me!"
Mafrar, his mentor, spotted his arrival and called him into one of the consultation rooms.
"The next patient is coming in immediately. Apply healing magic as necessary—I’ll tell you when and where. We have a mountain of casualties, so I’m counting on you."
"Understood."
"Boss! They’re going to treat you now! Just a little longer! Hang in there, Boss!"
A few seconds after Ryoma replied, a blood-soaked man was carried in on a stretcher. He was already unconscious. A deep blade wound sliced across his left upper arm, and a jagged arrow was buried deep in his right thigh, its shaft having been snapped off to facilitate transport.
The two healers immediately assessed the damage and prepared to work.
"Wait a minute!" a voice barked.
Ryoma looked toward the door. The man who had accompanied the patient was clinging to the doorframe, his face pale and eyes rimmed with tears. He was trying to force his way into the room, barely held back by a staff member.
"Let me in!"
"Sir, this area is restricted!"
"Why is there a kid in there!?" the man screamed, ignoring the staff and pointing a finger at Ryoma. "You’re not telling me that brat is going to treat the Boss, are you!? I know you're busy, but at least let a real doctor see him! Please!"
"Ryoma-kun, ignore him. Start on the right leg. I’ll keep things under control here," Mafrar said.
"Understood."
As Ryoma reached for his surgical tools, the apprentice began to struggle even more violently.
"Stop!"
"Calm down," Mafrar said firmly. "We are doing everything in our power to save him. That includes this boy."
"Then why won't you look at him yourself!?"
"Because right now, I have to stop you from interfering with the treatment."
"Stop the kid, not me!"
"Right thigh treatment complete. Moving to the left arm."
The apprentice had just finished his tearful plea to the calm Mafrar when Ryoma’s crisp status report rang out.
"Treatment fin—! Wait, what?"
The apprentice had been ready to snap back at the declaration of completion, which had come less than twenty seconds after Ryoma started. However, the sight that met his eyes froze the words in his throat. The arrow was out, and the Boss's right leg was completely unscarred. He watched, stunned, as the deep gash on the left arm sealed shut beneath Ryoma’s glowing hands.
It was a feat of such blinding speed that even a layman could tell it was extraordinary. The apprentice lost all his fight in an instant, his legs giving way as a wave of intense relief washed over him. He would have collapsed if a staff member hadn't caught him.
"Have you calmed down now?" Mafrar asked, his voice stern but not unkind.
"Ah... I... that boy... who is he?"
"He is a student under my instruction. Are you a craftsman?"
"I'm... an apprentice carpenter. That’s my boss."
"He is also a student," Mafrar said, gesturing to Ryoma, "but his mastery of healing magic is such that, in terms of pure trauma treatment, he may be more skilled than any of my other disciples. I understand your anxiety seeing someone so young, but rest assured—we are giving your master our absolute best."
The man blinked his tear-filled eyes, then bowed his head until it nearly touched his knees.
"Please! And... I’m sorry. There was so much blood, I just panicked. I’m so sorry! Please... please take care of him."
"Left arm treatment complete," Ryoma announced.
As the man offered his apology, Ryoma finished the second wound. He checked the dosage for a fast-acting blood-replenishing magic medicine while casting a stamina recovery spell on the patient. With the immediate crisis averted, Mafrar stepped back in to finalize the patient’s care.
The apprentice was eventually led away by staff, but the chaos of the trauma ward showed no signs of slowing.
Nevertheless, the witnesses—patients, families, and staff alike—found themselves struck by the duo. On one side was Ryoma, working with an uncanny, detached efficiency that ignored the surrounding turmoil. On the other was Mafrar, who stood as a bulwark against disruption while remaining compassionate toward the fears of those in his care. In the middle of the nightmare, the sight of the two healers provided a desperate glimmer of hope.
By the time Ryoma and Mafrar had treated so many patients they had lost count, the hospital’s frantic pace had finally begun to ebb. Casualties were still arriving, but the worst of the initial surge had passed.
"Excuse me. Master Mafrar, Master Ryoma. Please, take a moment to eat while you have the chance," a doctor said, stepping into the room.
"Is it that time already? Thank you. Come, Ryoma-kun."
"Understood. I'll leave the floor to you for a bit."
After thanking the doctor, the two headed for a desk in the breakroom behind the examination area. The four resident physicians from the Ducal House were already gathered there.
"Good work, everyone."
"Are you all on break too?"
"Yes..." Hector replied, his voice uncharacteristically grim.
"The town doctors arranged for us to rest first," Clarissa added.
The other two nodded silently. Tinto, the athletic one, was eating with a desperate hunger, while Isabella managed to look elegant even with her hair matted by sweat. The fatigue in the room was palpable.
"It’s good that we’re all here," Mafrar said, taking a sandwich from a platter. "While we eat, let's share what we know. If there are areas where we’re running low on manpower or supplies, we need to address them now."
The four residents looked at each other. Isabella spoke first.
"From what I’ve gathered, the number of new patients is finally starting to slow down. While the total number of casualties is high, the proportion of critical injuries is relatively low; most are minor or at least stable. The sheer volume of light injuries is our biggest bottleneck, but with the help of the clinics from town, we’re managing the severe cases. Clarissa, you’ve been monitoring the logistics?"
"Yes. The town's medical staff have been a huge help. Supplies are holding up well, too. We’re using Cleaner Slimes to handle the blood-soaked bandages and linens, which has been a lifesaver. We’re also boiling and sterilizing the surgical tools, but the slimes make the turnaround much faster than usual."
"We have plenty of medicine, too," Hector chimed in. "Actually, we have so much that the town pharmacists were asking how our inventory was this high. Between Ryoma-kun using magic and Weed Slimes to mass-produce herbs and our stockpile of Medicine Slime fluids, we’re well-covered. Unless something catastrophic happens, we won’t run out."
"I’m more concerned about the town's refuges," Tinto added. "There are medical teams working out there, and they likely don't have our level of infrastructure."
As the reports continued, Ryoma recalled the things he had seen on the front lines of the fires.
"I have something to add. It’s not confirmed, but I’m worried this is going to be a long night. I’ve already sent word to the security department, but several of the arsonists captured during the firefighting admitted they were ordered to 'wound as many people as possible.' They said they weren't told to kill, just to create casualties."
The atmosphere in the room instantly chilled.
"It wasn't just one or two men saying this," Ryoma continued. "They were attackers, so they might have been lying to save their skins or following a script, but we can't ignore the possibility."
"And there’s no reason to assume they’re lying, either," Mafrar noted.
"Exactly. If it’s true, the mastermind behind the city’s chaos wants to drain our manpower, labor, and supplies. They aren't trying to end lives—they’re trying to paralyze the city’s resources by forcing us to care for a massive influx of wounded."
The logic was as cold as it was cruel. The five doctors looked on with grim expressions. Tinto’s face was red with fury, his indignation toward the unseen enemy barely contained.
"It might just be my own speculation," Ryoma said, "but it’s been weighing on me."
"Anticipating the worst-case scenario is a vital part of medicine," Mafrar reassured him. "After all, it’s only because we prepared our stockpiles in advance that we’re in this position to help now."
Mafrar took another bite of his sandwich and continued. "We need to check the status of the various refuges across the city. We’ll offer them a portion of our reserves. At the same time, I’ll suggest they handle the treatment of the minor injuries. It’s not a trade, but it will be better for the patients to get treated quickly at a refuge than to wait for hours in our hallways."
No one disagreed with the plan.
"I’ll go and make the arrangements," Mafrar said, standing up. "I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don't wait for me—do what you can."
With a final sandwich in hand, the master doctor hurried out of the breakroom.
"I'm glad he’s moving so fast, but I hope Master Mafrar isn't pushing himself too hard..." Ryoma murmured.
"Don't you worry about him, Ryoma-kun," Isabella said with a tired smile. "He’s far more experienced than we are. Besides, I heard you’ve been doing some incredible work yourself."
"I'm just glad I could help. I couldn't have done it without the slimes," Ryoma replied, patting the Heal Slime on his shoulder.
Ryoma’s ability to assist in the trauma ward was a combination of his healing magic and the trauma training he’d received from Mafrar. However, the true game-changer was his "Slime Sight." By applying the sensory link, he could diagnose internal damage and the state of injuries with a level of precision that surpassed any traditional medical examination.
"The slimes help, sure, but you should take some credit, Ryoma-kun!" Tinto said.
"The doctors from town were all talking about you," Clarissa added. "They couldn't believe how skilled you were for your age."
"Honestly, you’re better at incisions and extractions than I am," Hector admitted. "Got any tips?"
"And are you holding up okay?" Clarissa asked. "I heard you’ve been focusing your mana specifically on the affected areas to reduce the strain, but that still takes a toll, doesn't it?"
"Thank you for the concern," Ryoma said. "I'm just doing what I can with what I have. As for the incisions... I’ve always been good with blades. It might sound strange, but butchering game in the forest probably gave me a good feel for it. And I’m fine, really. I’m used to physical strain. If I have to, I can do two or three all-nighters without a problem. I have mana recovery potions, and in a pinch, I can just cast stamina recovery on myself."
"Wait, that's not exactly healthy..." Hector started. "Come to think of it, you were out there fighting before you even got here, weren't you?"
"Yes. Firefighting and dealing with the rioters."
"Since when?"
"Since the first explosion last night."
"Did you sleep at all before that?"
"I’ve had a few naps."
As Ryoma casually answered while finishing his sandwich, the four senior disciples realized he wasn't exaggerating. They all shared the same thought: This kid is going to work himself to death before he even realizes he's tired.
The four took a moment to gently warn him not to overdo it, while internally they found themselves re-energized. If their "junior disciple" was willing to pour his heart and soul into saving lives, they couldn't afford to show any weakness as his seniors.
Just as a sense of camaraderie settled over the room, the break was cut short.
"Excuse me! We have a large group of wounded from the Guard Force arriving! Everyone, get ready!"
"Understood!" they shouted in unison.
Their long battle was starting all over again.