A Hospital in Another World?

"Exhale!"

"Inhale!"

"Exhale!"

"Inhale!"

"Feel your belly puff up! When you inhale, your stomach should bulge outward; when you exhale, it should retract inward!"

"But Garrett, we’ve always breathed like this…"

"Hahahaha… Garrett, you’re a mage, yet you’re teaching warriors how to breathe… Hahahaha…"

"Shut up! Laugh again and I’ll take the microscope back!"

The healing location Garrett chose for Prince Rothgar was not inside the mountain’s belly nor deep within the royal court, but outside the court—specifically, on the mountaintop directly above it. Jokingly, could a Stage I pneumoconiosis patient really stay long-term inside the mountain belly?

In a place where flames and smoke swirl daily, and the PM2.5—no, PM10 levels are off the charts year-round?

The first priority in treating a pneumoconiosis patient is to keep them away from their previous work environment, to prevent further inhalation of dust!

To ensure the prince’s safety, the royal guard patrol to the mountaintop was increased, both intentionally and unintentionally; among the five priests who came to learn, one was a level 15 master; Archmage Serrano and the mages set up a magical barrier around the cabin…

If someone could still break through, well, the Silver Dragon Girl, curious about everything, was sticking close to Garrett, unwilling to leave his side. Garrett had unveiled his bacteria culturing, staining, and microscopic examination techniques the day before yesterday, and she had been hogging the microscope, playing with it all day.

Garrett simply didn’t leave. With about a week left until the selection battle for the king, Garrett stayed by Prince Rothgar’s side, closely monitoring his condition while also overseeing his breathing exercises. The only awkward part was that the abdominal breathing technique and the like were things people had known how to do for over a hundred years…

Cough, inhaling more negative ions from the forest is also beneficial. Garrett silently looked up to the sky, making excuses for himself.jpg.

"You’ve recovered quite well!" After another breath test was completed, Garrett recorded the numbers in the medical record book and congratulated:

"You’ve already caught up with that guy from the Blackrock tribe! According to the data from Vigran and the others, your lung function should improve further in the next few days. By then, you should be fit to fight!"

"It’s just that I don’t know how things are going on their side…"

On their side, the Blackrock tribe’s selection team was still struggling up the mountain path. Though Cerrila didn’t make a move on the spot, her slight release of dragon might under her fury still scared off a mountain goat. And with the dwarves’ sturdy and robust bodies, it was impossible for two to ride one goat, letting the priest share with which dwarf…

"Absolutely not! In the name of the Radiant Lord, I’d rather walk down than do that!"

That physique! That beard! That body odor! He’d rather be killed than ride a goat with a dwarf!

Walking down was not an option, not in this lifetime. The priest is a spellcaster, a guide closer to the Radiant Lord for everyone, and from every perspective, he should be treated with preference. If there’s only one mount available in the team, it must be for the priest.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

And since the candidates need to conserve their energy for the upcoming selection battle, the only option left was for the other five warriors to take turns dismounting the goat, yielding the mount to the priest, and leading the goat on foot…

This significantly slowed their pace and increased their physical exhaustion. By the time they reached the summit, they were actually overtaken by the candidate from the Steelhammer tribe. This "Axe of the Army" waved at them, striding ahead with his team and surpassing them…

"…"

"…"

"That elf is detestable!"

"That kid Rothgar, looking all bushy-browed and big-eyed, actually colluded with elves to cheat!"

"After we win the selection battle, we must drive the Firehammer tribe out of the royal court!"

They cursed bitterly as they completed the sacrificial ceremony at the summit and then carried their equipment down the mountain. The black-robed priest, leaning on his staff, climbed the mountain with a grim face:

The church’s team is too useless, failing to trouble Rothgar’s team!

Heaven and earth as witnesses, the church’s dispatched team really wasn’t idle. However, the adjudicator’s action team had already been annihilated among the mountains and vanished without a trace, with the mages hiding their identities;

Two teams posing as merchant guards, one disappeared, and the other, staying motionless in the mountain belly trade area, managed to avoid injury;

What about hiring barbarian and orc

squads? Those were for coordinating with the church’s team. Without the main force, paying them to work alone was like throwing money into the water!

Archbishop Jeroni even sent a message to the strongmen in the far north ice fields. Unfortunately, one day, two days, three days, four days passed, and not only did no one come, but there wasn’t even a reply. It’s unclear whether they didn’t receive the message or some other mishap occurred…

They took two more days than planned to return to the royal court. Although overtaken by the Firehammer and Silverbeard tribes, they managed to complete the journey three days before the deadline. Upon their return, they were hastily dragged into the prayer room, the door shut behind them, with two high-ranking priests personally accompanying:

"You! Bathe, change your clothes, and pray quietly! Before the selection battle, we’ll do our best to increase your combat power to ensure your victory!"

Kaimo was bafflingly pushed into the small prayer hall. After bathing and donning a white robe, he kneeled on the cold stone floor, murmuring prayers, reciting the holy texts, and opening his heart to the Radiant Lord. When tired of kneeling, he lay face down on the ground, arms spread in a cross—this was the only allowed resting position—to slightly relax his knees…

"Focus your mind! Open your heart! Get as close to the Lord as possible! Only then can you receive the Lord’s grace and bear the glory bestowed by Him!"

On the last day before the selection battle, Kaimo was finally released from the prayer hall and led into a sealed, chilly stone chamber. The chamber wasn’t lit with undying flames or torches but had a lampstand hanging on each of the four walls. The flames from the twelve candles, as thick as arms, brightly illuminated the entire room.

It’s unclear what was added to the candles, but their scent was faint and ethereal. Kaimo took a deep breath and immediately felt a sense of ethereal emptiness in both body and mind.

Inside the chamber, two stone beds of waist height were placed side by side. A white-robed cleric lay on the left bed, with golden hair drooping, his face unclear. Kaimo had only glanced at him when the priest who brought him in pointed to the other bed:

"Strip and lie down."

"Should I take everything off?"

The priest pointed at the stone bed silently, not uttering a word. Kaimo obediently removed his white robe, climbed onto the stone bed, and buried his face in the hole at the head of the bed. The next moment, "clack, clack," four iron rings rose from the corners of the stone bed, firmly shackling his wrists and ankles.

"Help! Help—"

Kaimo was shocked and struggled vigorously. He immediately received a slap on the back of his head:

"Quiet! This is for tattooing, in case you can’t bear the pain! —Draw blood!"

At this command, a clear knife sound came from the stone bed on the left. The smell of blood filled the air, and Kaimo listened intently to the dripping sounds, which seemed enough to fill a bowl.

With the sounds of flames crackling, stirring rods clinking against vessels, and liquids bubbling, Kaimo waited. Shortly after, a slight chill touched the center of his back, followed by an explosive, burning pain!

"Ah—"

He screamed out unexpectedly. What was this thing, exactly? Why was it so painful with just a needle? What kind of potion was mixed in?

Even with human blood, there was no reason for it to hurt so much!

"Quiet!" Another slap on the back of his head:

"Pray to our Lord! Loudly recite! Dedicate your whole body and soul to the Lord! May it be from the God who is, and who was, and who is to come, and from the seven spirits before his throne…"

Kaimo instinctively followed in loud recitation. On the neighboring stone bed, silent and still, apart from the sound of blood dripping, not even a breath could be heard. In the entire stone chamber, only his prayer echoed:

"Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and all tribes of the earth will wail on account of him…"

Amid the dwarf’s loud prayers, bowls of fresh blood were brought over, one after another, falling into the divine magic formation, mixed with secret medicines to create a deep red ointment. Meanwhile, the long needle, dipped in the ointment, repeatedly pierced the dwarf’s body, drawing patterns. Interlocking and spreading.

On his back, shoulders, arms, legs…

"Is it done?"

In the midst of severe pain, the candidate from the Blackrock tribe vaguely heard two priests conversing:

"Should we continue?"

"Continue, don’t worry." The other replied calmly: "We still have enough blood."

"But so much blood has already been taken—"

"This is Brother Klind’s devotion and dedication to the Lord. Prince, you must understand, we all will return to the Lord’s embrace, without exception."

With a click, the shackles on his limbs were released. Kaimo saw light before him, was turned over by someone, and the white-robed priest smiled, showing him the long needle in a porcelain bowl:

"Come, let’s continue—"

The mark of the devout deeply penetrated the skin. Secret medicines, fresh blood, and divine power merged into one, inscribed on the body through tattoo patterns. When the tattooing was finally completed late at night, Kaimo was lifted from the stone bed, looking down at his thigh—

His leg was smooth, with no color or patterns visible, except for the leg hair shaved for tattooing.

"Don’t look, this won’t show any marks." The priest responsible for the tattooing pushed him towards the door:

"Within three days, it will enhance your combat abilities, making you run faster, jump higher, have greater strength, and not fear pain. When injured, just silently recite the Lord’s holy name to gain some healing abilities. You better take some time to try it out and get used to this new power!"

As he stepped over the threshold, Kaimo glanced back in the midst of his busyness. On the other stone bed, the white-robed cleric still lay face down, silent and motionless.

With his newly acquired power, Kaimo confidently stood in the sunlight. Around him, four candidates, bearing battle axes and war hammers, wearing full armor, or just breastplates, or even no armor at all, formed a circle.

In their midst was a specially compacted and leveled ground, their battleground.

The final battle of the king selection ceremony—

Was about to unfold.

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