Investing In My Crippled Wife Every Return Makes Me Stronger Chapter 36

[ … words ]

The truck skidded into the city plaza, tires screeching against the stone as it came to a halt in a cloud of dust.

“Healer! We need a healer!” Soren leaped from the driver’s seat, his voice cracking with desperation.

In the back, Nami and Rea were pale, their clothes soaked in blood as they looked at the onlookers with pleading eyes.

A few hunters who had been resting nearby immediately stepped forward, drawn by the commotion. One of them, a man with a wooden staff, knelt by the edge of the truck and looked at Moro’s side. His face fell almost instantly.

“This is too deep,” the hunter muttered, his hand trembling as he pulled back. “The internal damage is already spreading. My healing ability isn’t strong enough for this.”

“I can’t do it either,” another hunter added, shaking his head. “They’ve lost too much blood. If they don’t get treatment from a high circle healer soon, they won’t last much longer. Five minutes. At most.”

The whispers started to spread through the crowd.

The city guards arrived a moment later, their heavy boots clattering against the stone as they pushed through the onlookers. They quickly assessed the situation, their faces hardening when they saw the state of the truck’s cargo. They began to cordon off the area, creating a small clearing around the vehicle.

Just then, a voice echoed through the space they had cleared.

“Let me pass through, please.”

The voice was soft but carried a natural authority that made the guards and hunters step aside without a second thought.

A beaituful young woman walked toward the truck. She looked to be about Soren’s age, dressed in elegant white robes that caught the evening light. Her expression was calm and focused, her eyes holding a quiet confidence as she took in the scene before her.

Without a word, she raised her hands and made a slow, fluid gesture.

In an instant, a warm golden light enveloped the entire truck.

As the light washed over them, Soren felt a sudden wave of relief. The exhaustion in his muscles began to fade, and the sharp ache in his ribs simply vanished. Though the mental strain was still there.

The woman stepped closer to the truck, followed by a young assistant.

“What happened here?” she asked, her voice steady.

Soren took a ragged breath. “We were in a First Circle Gate. The Ironclad Gorge. The boy took a direct hit from the boss. His father had a pre-existing wound that reopened during the fight. We gave them potions and did what we could, but…”

He quickly explained the rest.

The woman nodded slowly. “You did well to get them here.”

She turned to her assistant. “Two stations. The adult is the priority. Internal hemorrhaging, reopened wound. Begin stabilization immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The assistant moved at once.

The woman assessed both patients with a single sweeping look, then reached in and pressed two fingers lightly against Moro’s neck, then Nick’s.

“The boy is stable for now,” she said quietly. “The father is not.”

She straightened and looked at Soren. “Help me carry him.”

The emergency tent went up quickly.

By the time they had lifted Moro down from the truck bed, the assistant had already prepared both stations inside.

Soren carried Moro in and laid him down carefully on the cot. When he turned back for Nick, Rea and Nami were already helping, the three of them easing the boy down onto the second cot.

Soren looked at them both one last time. Moro’s face was ashen, his breathing shallow and rattling. Nick lay still, all his usual youthfull energy gone.

The healer was already kneeling beside Moro, her hands beginning to glow with a soft warmth.

Soren turned to Rea and Nami. “You two stay here. Get checked over and let them treat you. You’ve been through just as much.”

Nami opened her mouth to protest, but Soren cut her off.

“You can’t help them if you collapse too. Rest. I’ll handle everything outside.”

Rea nodded slowly, sinking onto a nearby stool. Nami hesitated for a moment longer, then followed.

Soren stepped out of the tent.

The plaza was still crowded, though the guards had pushed most of the onlookers back to a respectful distance. Soren walked toward the nearest guard, a middle-aged woman with a stern face and a battle axe strapped to her back.

“Ma’am,” he called out, raising a hand to get her attention. “I need to report what happened.”

The guard turned to him, her eyes narrowing as she took in his blood-soaked clothes. “You’re the one who drove in?”

“Yes. I’m sorry for the commotion. I had no choice. The two inside needed immediate help, and there wasn’t time to go through proper channels.”

The guard studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You did the right thing. Protocol exists for a reason, but so does common sense. No one’s going to punish you for saving lives.”

She glanced toward the tent. “Is it bad?”

“They said the boy will recover soon. As for the father…” Soren paused. “He took a hit he shouldn’t have. There was an old wound that reopened. I didn’t know until after he collapsed.”

The guard’s expression softened. “You got them here. That’s what matters.”

Another guard walked over, a younger man with sharp brown eyes. He looked at Soren, then at the tent, then back at Soren again.

“You’re the one who carried the father out of the Gate? The checkpoint already radioed ahead. Said a group of young hunters pulled two people out of a First Circle raid.”

Soren nodded.

The younger guard let out a low whistle. “That’s no small thing. Most people would have frozen up. Instead, you ran through a Gate, carried a man twice your size, and drove here like your life depended on it.”

“It did depend on it,” Soren said quietly.

The guard clapped him on the shoulder. “Then you did well. But don’t break the rules and consider this your warning. Next time, try to give us a heads up before you tear through the plaza. But good work.”

The older guard nodded in agreement. “You got lucky that Miss Seria was here. If anyone can save them, she can.”

Soren looked toward the tent. “Seria?”

“Mm. She’s a Fifth Circle healer. And she’s from the Kalmari Hunters Academy. I am surprised you didn’t recognize her.”

“Ah, I see.” Soren nodded in understanding, inwardly surprised by the revelation. “I am actually not from this city, so that’s why I didn’t recognize her.” He admitted at the end.

“Oh, that explains it then.” The guard nodded. “Well, you’ll remember her now. Not many Fifth Circle healers her age in the whole region.”

Soren looked back toward the tent, watching the golden light flicker through the fabric.

“…I won’t forget.”