It can’t be that hard to open a hospital in another world, right? 8
by adminChapter 8: I Got Divine Inspiration and Got Promoted?
Someone asked him what to do next.
A group of people were waiting for him to make a decision.
Grett looked left and right, finally realizing one fact:
His status had changed.
He was a healer, a spellcaster, a person who had received divine inspiration from the Natural God. Spellcasters have always had a higher status than warriors, especially in the case where the captain was seriously injured, and it was natural for him to lead the team, decide their actions, and determine their course of action.
What?
He was still a teenager, inexperienced, and didn’t know anything?
What was the purpose of the Natural God’s divine inspiration! Wisdom is something that can be poured into you, you know!
Grett was heartbroken. Never mind that this “divine inspiration” was fake, that he was pretending, he had just transmigrated, and the original owner’s memories were not yet fully integrated. Asking him whether to advance or retreat?
He had no idea!
Grett doubted his life under the expectant eyes of his teammates. Three questions for a transmigrated soul: who am I, where am I, what happened? He had only solved the first one so far. As for the second and third questions, could they give him some time to organize his memories after just saving a person…
It turned out he didn’t need to organize them himself. Brother Raymond had already hurriedly asked:
“Normally, we are the city guard, and we need to complete a patrol before returning. But the captain is injured, and something happened here—”
His dark arm swept outward. Grett looked around following the arm. The messy mud, the splattered blood, the traces of the previous battle were still vivid. He blurted out:
“What happened just now?”
“You don’t know?!”
Raymond was surprised. Grett knew he had messed up, and he quickly covered his head with a cry of “Oops”:
“I, I have a headache…”
He didn’t even need to fake this painful expression. With a slight force, he pressed his fingers on the swollen lump at the back of his head, immediately feeling pain that made his facial features contort. While speaking, he crouched down:
“I hit my head just now… I, I can’t remember…”
Raymond rushed forward to support him. Grett squatted on the ground, curled up in a ball, his eyes tightly closed. Memories flashed through his mind, making his head hurt even more:
They went out of the city to patrol. After walking for a day and a half, they arrived at this farmhouse. Before they got close, they saw chaos outside the farmhouse, and two wild dogs were tearing something apart.
Captain Kalen led everyone to drive away the wild dogs and went inside to check. Almost immediately, there were sounds of fighting and screams from inside, and after a while, a black figure rushed out of the door.
“Himself” tried to stop it but was thrown away, hitting something, and then his vision went dark…
“That… that thing that injured the captain… what is it…”
Grett asked intermittently, enduring the headache. Raymond wanted to help him up, pulled him a couple of times, but couldn’t move him, so he squatted beside him and answered into his ear:
“I didn’t see clearly, that thing was too fast. I only know it’s a four-legged creature, black.”
“Is that so…”
Grett murmured. The other people around him talked at the same time:
“That’s right, it’s big and fierce. It’s… about as high as my waist!”
“Like a cat?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, how could a cat be that big? It must be a leopard, a black leopard?”
“It looked like a cat!”
“Yes… that thing… scratched me with its claws…”
Captain Kalen also spoke weakly. Grett nodded, squatting on the ground, curled up in a ball, thinking:
Maybe it’s a feline animal. Grett recalled the diagonal slash on Captain Kalen’s abdomen and secretly rejoiced. Feline animals are good, at least the risk of rabies is lower than those wild dogs they drove away. This different world doesn’t have rabies vaccines, if they really get infected, they can only rely on fate, right?
And, since it’s a wild animal, there’s no need to chase it. The top priority is to find a place quickly so the injured can rest properly.
Where to go?
Grett looked around, trying to stand up, walked towards the thatched hut not far away, wanting to see if the conditions inside are suitable for healing. He pushed open the firewood door—it’s really a firewood door, made with four tree sticks as a frame, and a bunch of firewood branches tied together as a plane—bent over and stuck his head in through the door. He took a glance and immediately retreated:
Damn it!
I shouldn’t have had any expectations for this kind of house!
Grett’s facial features were crumpled together. The house was so low that you couldn’t enter with your head held high, and that’s fine; the house was narrow, less than 20 square meters, he was mentally prepared for that; but this broken house doesn’t even have a bed!
In the middle of the room, a round pit was built with stones on the muddy ground, and there was smoke rising from the pit. The firewood that had just been lit to boil water was still crackling. White smoke rose in waves, hitting people’s faces, immediately bringing tears to their eyes.
Under the flickering firelight, you could see a few pitchforks placed against the wall on the left, two bags piled in the corner, one of which was half-flat, the other still full. On the right, a mound of earth was built, with sheepskin, linen, and the like piled on it in a messy way, probably, maybe, the owner’s sleeping place.
This kind of ghost place for healing?
It’s likely to get worse, the more you heal!
Go, we must go!
Grett retreated outside the door, trying to take a few breaths, and called out to his comrades:
“Carry the captain, we’re leaving!”
“No! I can walk on my own!”
Captain Kalen wanted to struggle to get up as soon as he heard it. Grett pounced on him and held him down:
“Uncle Kalen, lie down! Don’t get up!”
“Bring that spear over here! And get another stick, make a stretcher, and carry him.”
Everyone worked together. As warriors, they still had some experience in making stretchers. The ready-made spear was donated, and then a small tree was cut down nearby, tied with some straw ropes in the middle, and Captain Kalen was lifted onto it. The previously cut leather armor, the torn clothes, were all piled on him, and they carried him away.
Grett also tried to join the stretcher team. As soon as he reached out, he was pushed away. Tom, the red-haired archer, bumped him with his shoulder, holding a spear in one hand and a stick in the other, turned his head and smiled at him:
“Little Grett, we’ll carry the stretcher, you just follow along!”
Grett: …
I remember! It was you who knocked the original body down before, the original body hit his head on a tree, and I transmigrated. Just now, if I hadn’t reacted quickly and stood firm, would I have had to transmigrate again?
However, he could only swallow these complaints. The comrades around him had already burst into laughter. They all agreed with the archer’s actions:
“That’s right, Little Grett, you don’t have to do these heavy tasks!”
“You’re a healer!”
“Tsk tsk, in a few days, we’ll have to call you Master Grett!”
Raymond, the spearman, patted him on the shoulder, and casually took away his sword. Tom, the archer, and Raymond, the spearman, bent down to lift the stretcher. Wally, the shield warrior, casually snatched Grett’s package and hung it on his shoulder.
By the time Grett recovered, he was empty-handed and relaxed, walking in the middle of the group. He didn’t have to do any work, he didn’t have to carry anything, he just had to follow the group quietly with the young Pastor.
Grett even suspected that if he twisted his ankle now or claimed he couldn’t walk, these warriors could cut a few vines and make a carrying basket to carry him on their backs…
So, is this the treatment for spellcasters?
(End of Chapter)
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