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⚠️ Content Warning ⚠️
This chapter contains scenes of violence and graphic imagery that some readers may find disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.
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The battlefield stank of rot and poison. Heat baked the dunes, turning blood into black tar and filling the air with a stinging, metallic tang.
The corpse of the scorpion sprawled like a broken hill across the sand, its cracked shell seeping foul blood that steamed in the sun.
The desert air still reeked of burning flesh where its tail had struck true, and the ground was littered with the broken bodies of trainees.
Flies were already gathering.
The heat pressed down as if the sun itself wished to smother them, and the cries of the wounded filled the air in a chorus that would never leave the ears of those who lived through it.
For hours, the less injured survivors worked tiredlessly.
Daiana's hands trembled. Her chakra sputtered weakly, flickering green over another trainee's wound before it guttered out. She bit her lip, forcing it back, forcing herself to focus. The boy beneath her was convulsing, his lips purple, foam crusting in the corners of his mouth. The poison had already gone too deep.
She froze. She knew. No matter what she tried, bandages, salves, chakra, he wasn't going to make it.
Closing her eyes, she stood up and walked away, ending up beside Shira.
He lay in the sand like a broken doll, chest heaving in uneven gasps, his body trembling with the backlash of what he had done. The skin around his muscles was torn open in places, fibers shredded as if ripped apart from within. Purple bruises swelled beneath his flesh, veins bulging black, his breathing ragged.
Concentrating, she pressed both hands to his chest. The heat radiating off him was frightening; he was burning alive under his own skin.
His muscles had been forced past their limit, torn and shredded by the surge of unnatural strength. Every breath he took sounded like it might be his last.
The smell hit her then, the stink of ruptured tissue, iron from the blood, salt from the sweat. His lips foamed faintly pink.
"No. No... no... no...", her chakra flared as she pressed medical ninjutsu into him, the faint green glow of healing light spilling across his chest.
The major problem was that the damage was everywhere. Not just one wound to close, not just a gash to seal. It was his whole body screaming at once, tearing itself apart.
Behind her, someone groaned. A trainee with half his arm melted from the scorpion's venom tried to crawl toward them, dragging his ruined limb through the sand. His voice was a wet gurgle.
"Help me… please..."
Daiana's throat locked, her determination and focus wavered. Closing once more her eyes, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, she pressed on and focused on healing Shira again.
"Stay with me.", she whispered, though she didn't know if he could hear.
"Please.... don't you dare die."
Only a few feet away, Isan was convulsing in the sand.
His body bore fewer visible wounds, but the fever burning him was unnatural, violent. His skin flushed crimson, sweat pouring from him in waves, soaking the sand beneath his back. His face twitched in fevered dreams, mouth opening in half-silent cries.
Every time she glanced at him, Daiana's chest clenched.
It happened right after he brought Shira to her while screaming her name out loud, like a doll with its strings cut or a candle flickering flame waned at last, Isan fell to the ground.
Back to the present, Daiana knew what was Isan was going through, she was more than certain in her judgment and diagonsis. He had gone far, far beyond what his body and chakra limits could sustain. The fever was his system's rebellion, punishing him for the recklessness.
If Shira was a body tearing itself apart, Isan was a flame devouring its own wick.
In between them was Daiana, she couldn't split her in half and treat the both of them at the same time, especially with the limited and reducing resources and chakra.
The other trainees screamed.
A girl clutched her belly, the scorpion's stinger having punctured straight through, venom burning out from the wound like wildfire. Her flesh bubbled, the smell of cooking meat filling the air.
Another boy's leg had been crushed beneath falling chitin, the bone protruding white from torn muscle. He howled until his voice cracked into whimpers.
Daiana's vision blurred with tears.
She wanted to save them. She wanted to save them all.
Her salves were gone, spent in the first desperate minutes. Her chakra was nearly dry, each technique pulling at the very edges of her endurance.
There were too many.
She could see it in their eyes, the trainees who crawled toward her, who reached with bloodied hands, who begged her name. Hope bloomed in them every time she turned her head. Hope that she would choose them.
Her hands trembled as she pressed harder into Shira's chest, feeling his ribcage rattle beneath her palms. His breath hitched again, wet and bubbling, and she knew. If she let him go even for a second, he would drown in his own blood.
Her gaze slid to Isan, twitching, fever burning him alive.
If she didn't keep cooling him, stabilizing him, his mind might never return.
And then, beyond them, the others.
Their screams rose in a wave, cutting into her skull.
"I can't.", she whispered, shaking her head.
"I can't save everyone... "
The cries of the dying became unbearable.
One boy shrieked until his voice gave out, his throat raw, only gurgling sounds coming from the mess of his chest where venom had eaten through. Another girl beat her fists against the sand, leaving bloody imprints, begging someone, anyone, to take the pain away.
"Please... please, don't let me... don't let me die... please... ", she never finished. Her chest shuddered once, then fell silent.
Daiana's hands froze mid-jutsu, bile rising in her throat. She had been staring right into a girl the same age as her die, and she had done nothing.
Her stomach heaved, but she forced it down. Her chakra flickered, nearly guttering out.
Her decision was made.
She would save Shira. She would save Isan.