In the infirmary.
"Hey, you! Next time you volunteer to help out, make sure you don't increase the workload and actually help," yelled a man in his early thirties at a young girl barely twenty.
"Yes, doctor—sorry, professor…" The girl barely held her tears back as she hurried to complete her task.
"You know, you don't have to be so hard on students," the professor beside him remarked. "Especially knowing you need all the help you can get right now."
"I know, I know… but if she crumbles under this kind of pressure and makes mistakes, she won't make a good doctor," the doctor scoffed.
"You never change… But is this the last student that needed treatment?"
"Yes, just about done here…" The doctor finished bandaging a student's arm.
The student's arm was in bad shape—bruised, with skin scraped raw, almost as if something had gnawed at it. But the doctor's healing technique was so refined and smooth that the student barely felt any pain as his wounds were treated.
"Get it changed daily, and it will be good in two weeks. Won't leave any scar behind. Do you want a scar?"
"Yes, please! But don't make it look ugly—make it look cool," said the muscular student with a dumb grin on his face.
"Another nutjob," muttered both the professor and doctor at the same time.
Just as the doctor was about to sit down, the door to the infirmary slammed open.
"Doctor, we have a seriously injured student here!" exclaimed a third-year student supporting Cardea, who was barely conscious from excessive blood loss.
"Great! Just when I thought I could get off early," the doctor scoffed. "Go lay him down in the inner infirmary and wash the dust off—I'll be right there."
"Yes, doctor!" said the student carrying Cardea.
"Let me help you," another student joined in, seeing it was difficult to carry Cardea alone.
A few minutes later…
"Alright, good job washing the wounds without making a mess," the doctor said to the students.
"Thank you, doctor." The students didn't mind the harsh tone. After working with him for over three months, they knew that was the best compliment they were going to get.
"Now lets see what this ones got"
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[ no danger detected ]
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"Hmm… aside from some minor bumps, he was 2 major cracks in the skull, one would be from falling and another would be by getting hit with something heavy and hard like a warhammer, some bruises all over the body , broken nose, dislocated arm, they appear to be fresh, my guess it hasn't been even an hour since he received the wounds."
"But his breathing is too uneven" added the processor as he began wearing a glove examining the wounds gently to avoid any more pain, and he added, "See here, i see a broken rib and it must have punctured the left lung…"
"You are right, his eyes are diluted and lips have turned pale blue, he has lost a lot of blood" muttered the doctor as he examined more.
"Let us start quickly otherwise it might be hard to save him… you over there bring 1L of universal blood bag" ordered the professor to the students that were standing nearby.
"Let's start with head and then we will come down"
"Got it"
The professor began by casting a numbing spell over Cardea's body, ensuring he wouldn't feel any pain during the procedure.
His hands moved with practiced precision as he carefully lifted the fractured pieces of Cardea's skull, using a delicate levitation spell to hold them in place.
The doctor followed suit, his hands glowing with a low-grade healing spell as he meticulously fused the bone back together.
The cracks sealed seamlessly, the skin knitting itself back together as if the injury had never occurred.
"Head's stable," the doctor muttered, already moving to the next injury. "Let's deal with that rib."
The professor nodded, his hands now hovering over Cardea's chest.
With a focused expression, he used a combination of magic and physical manipulation to gently realign the broken rib, ensuring no fragments were left behind.
The doctor stepped in again, his healing magic flowing into Cardea's body as he repaired the punctured lung and reattached the rib.
The rise and fall of Cardea's chest became more even, the bluish tint of his lips fading as oxygen flowed properly once more.
Next came the dislocated arm.
The doctor gripped Cardea's shoulder and forearm, his movements swift and confident as he popped the joint back into place.
A quick healing spell ensured the ligaments and muscles were restored, leaving no trace of the injury. Finally, they addressed the surface wounds—bruises, scrapes, and the broken nose.
The doctor's hands moved with almost surgical precision, each spell leaving Cardea's skin smooth and unblemished.
Hours passed in a blur of focused effort.
By the time they were done, Cardea's breathing was steady, his color restored, and his body free of visible injuries. The doctor stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
"He's stable," he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion but satisfaction. "Keep him here overnight for observation. If there are no complications, he can leave tomorrow."
The professor nodded, removing his gloves and sinking into a nearby chair. "Good work," he said, his voice weary but appreciative.
"You haven't lost your touch." The doctor smirked, though his eyes were heavy with fatigue.
"Neither have you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need a cup of coffee before I pass out."
As the professor chuckled softly, the infirmary fell into a rare moment of quiet, the tension of the emergency replaced by the calm of recovery.
As the students that stood by looking at the legendary duo leaving, who had done the treatment procedure needing over 10 hours done in half an hour.
Coming out of their Stupor, they cleaned, changed the dress and moved cardea onto another bed and injected the blood bag onto his arm with a fine needle.