They didn’t give us rest.
They didn’t give us time to think.
Straight into a wagon.
The wheels creaked, and we moved off behind the vanguard of the Dark Order.
The Commander told us only a few words:
“Your task is to treat the wounded.”
But his gaze said something else.
This was a test.
A demonstration of the cruelty of war.
And an attempt to make us turn back while it was still possible.
A young swordsman was put in charge of the detachment — Silver Norris.
Tall, silver hair, eyes sharp as a blade.
Rumors said that in two years of service in the Order, he had survived where veterans died.
But when the general told him:
“You’re in command of the children,”
his face twisted for a moment.
“…Are you serious?” he hissed.
“You’re sending me to babysit brats?”
“No questions, Norris,” the general cut him off. “That’s an order.”
Silver turned toward us.
He looked at us as if we were already corpses.
And his task was simply to bring those corpses back.
“Fine. Get in. I’ll try to bring at least half of you back alive.”
He spoke roughly, but without malice.
More like a man who had seen too much.
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I climbed into the wagon with the others.
Dust. The smell of blood on the wind. Death cries from the front line.
And I thought:
Maybe… they really shouldn’t be taken along?
Maybe I should show strength and push them away?
But the demons would sense me.
If they realized that among humans there was someone more dangerous than usual…
They would direct everything toward eliminating me.
I looked at my friends.
Each of them was holding on in their own way, but their eyes…
Their eyes were alive.
And in them I saw resolve.
How do you stop them if they chose this path themselves?
As soon as the wagon stopped, the smell hit us.
The smell of rot, blood, hot metal, and damp earth.
The smell of war.
Silver threw a short command:
“Your work is there.”
We ran.
And the moment I entered the huge, torn tent, my heart stopped.
Hundreds. Hundreds of wounded.
People lay pressed close to one another:
— someone had lost a leg;
— someone — an arm;
— someone’s chest was torn open;
— someone’s head was wrapped so tightly that blood seeped through the bandages.
Many were already not breathing.
But no one removed them — there wasn’t time.
We rushed to work.
I went to those whose blood was spurting like a fountain.
I immediately formed a mana film, compressed tissues, sealed vessels.
Finn rapidly heated water, cauterized wound edges, stopped bleeding.
Astra healed where she could and calmed those who were dying in her arms.
Elinia held herself rigid — she pressed water, cooled inflammations, created “air cushions” so the wounded could breathe at least somehow.
Everyone worked at the limit.
And still — people died.
In front of me lay one man.
Huge.
An arm torn off.
His abdomen ripped open.
Blood flowed so heavily that he wouldn’t survive ordinary healing magic.
The medics had abandoned him — marked as “hopeless.”
But he was looking at me.
Looking greedily, terribly, desperately.
He wanted to live.
And most importantly — mana was coming from him.
Torn, but strong.
I bent down.
“Quiet. Close your eyes.”
He obeyed.
I moved fast — very fast.
Cauterized the wounds.
Stopped the internal bleeding.
Formed a mana reserve.
And began growing a new arm.
Drop by drop.
Cell by cell.
While no one was watching.
It was risky.
Damn risky.
But he opened his eyes…
And smiled.
Barely.
And fell into sleep.
That was the first one saved.
But after him — dozens.
And dozens more.
We worked until exhaustion.
By the end of the day, a man died in Astra’s arms.
She said nothing.
Tears simply flowed.
Finn stood leaning against the wall, white as chalk.
Dried blood was under his fingernails.
His hands were shaking.
Elinia sat with her face buried in her hands.
She wasn’t sobbing — she simply couldn’t keep her expression anymore.
We lay down in small tents — not even by groups, just where we fell.
It was already night.
I stood up and said:
“Leave. You shouldn’t… see this.”
Finn lifted red eyes to me.
“And where to?”
“Where, Zen?
Our home burned down. The Academy too. The city is a wasteland.
Where is it safe?”
Astra whispered:
“We… are not alone.
As long as you’re here — we will be too.”
And Elinia added quietly:
“We…
But we won’t abandon you.
Even if it’s terrifying.”
I sat down.
And I understood:
I couldn’t push them away.
They had chosen themselves.