Within Frost Halberd City, the chill permeates the medical room.
Heavy armor piled in the corner, frost not yet faded, still bearing traces of combat where bug sap exploded.
Duke Edmund sits bare-chested on the operating table, his chest covered with crisscrossing ancient scars, most resembling cuts from knives and axes, deep into flesh and bone.
The newest scar runs across the lower edge of the breastbone, bluish-black, with something seemingly writhing within.
"Three corpse worms have entered." The military doctor said solemnly, "You blocked them with Fighting Energy, but they're still moving, attempting to reach the direction of your heart and lungs."
"Then dig them out." Edmund lowered his head, picking up a piece of rye bread from a plate beside him, biting into it with a crunchy sound.
His tone was as indifferent as discussing the weather, "Cut directly, no anesthesia, don't waste time."
