We slowly retreated away from the nest.
Even as we withdrew, I could see our infantry surging forward like relentless waves crashing against the shore, pouring into the battlefield without pause. There was no time to think about them.
I only forced my eyes to stay open.
Rusty carried me toward the safe regrouping area.
When we finally arrived, the scene before me was no less horrifying than the battlefield itself.
Men without arms.
Men without legs.
Some had lost both.
Others bled from their eyes, ears, or mouths, screaming in agony.
Compared to them, my injuries were minor—mostly bruises, scratches, and exhaustion.
I had already stopped using my sensory field.
If I activated it again, my head felt like it would explode.
Still sitting atop Rusty, I slumped forward, resting my forehead against the back of his neck.
Blood dripped steadily from my nose, staining his dark fur.
Rusty shivered slightly but remained still.
I rested there, forcing my heavy eyelids to stay open.
Then I heard a voice.
"Oi! Don't close your eyes! Don't close your eyes!"
The voice sounded distant.
Each time it reached me, it felt farther away.
My vision flickered.
Everything became darker.
Is this it...?
Just as my eyes were about to close—
THUD!
A heavy strike landed between my shoulder blades.
Pain jolted through my body.
My eyes snapped open.
I wiped the blood from my nose with my sleeve, though it refused to stop bleeding.
Turning around, I saw an old man riding a black horse.
He had a long white beard, white hair, and stood as tall as a pole. A massive greatsword rested across his back.
"Kid," he ordered firmly, "don't you dare close your eyes until the medics arrive."
It wasn't a request.
It was an order.
Something about his commanding voice forced me upright.
Even then, blood continued dripping from my nose, though it had begun to slow.
The first thing I did was carefully remove the arrows lodged in my armor.
On the battlefield, I hadn't even known whether they had pierced through or not.
Leaving them inside until I was safe had been the better choice.
One by one, I pulled them free.
Thankfully...
None of them had pierced my body.
I let out a long sigh of relief.
Around me, priests hurried from one wounded mercenary to another.
Before any healing began, a man distributed colored wooden tokens.
He handed me a green token.
I quickly understood the system.
The priests rushed first toward those carrying red and blue tokens.
The mercenaries with black tokens followed after.
Only once they had finished treating the critical cases did they begin calling those with green tokens.
Eventually, my turn came.
I climbed down from Rusty.
The moment my feet touched the ground, my legs wobbled violently.
Using Rusty's side for support, I managed to remain standing.
My eyelids were growing heavy again.
Then I remembered the old man's words.
"Don't close your eyes."
Without hesitation, I slapped both of my cheeks.
The sharp sting forced me awake.
A priest finally approached.
"Sit down carefully."
I lowered myself onto the ground.
He began chanting softly, placing a hand over my head.
Warm mana flowed into me.
The bleeding from my nose gradually stopped.
The splitting pain inside my skull eased until it became nothing more than a dull ache.
"Remove your armor."
I carefully unbuckled it.
The priest examined my body.
"You got hit," he muttered.
A massive black bruise covered my left shoulder where the wooden shaft of spear had slammed into me.
The priest healed the injury before immediately moving on to the next patient.
There wasn't time for thanks.
Too many wounded still waited.
As I began putting my armor back on, another mercenary walked over carrying a bottle of alcohol.
"Here."
He held it toward me.
"Drink."
I shook my head.
"No."
The man chuckled.
"Kid... after battles like this, your head won't stop thinking. Drink enough, and it numbs the pain."
I remembered Bharam's warning.
Never dull your senses after a battle.
I politely refused again.
The mercenary simply shrugged before walking away.
Once my armor was secured again, I leaned against a nearby tree.
Rusty stood beside me, panting heavily.
He had only a few shallow scratches.
I opened the saddlebag, took out a small jar of ointment, and carefully applied it over each wound.
Rusty rubbed his head lightly against my shoulder.
"I'm fine," I whispered.
At least...
I had survived.
Leaning back against the tree, I finally allowed myself a slow breath.
Then—
A siren echoed across the battlefield.
My eyes flew open.
That wasn't ours.
Our sirens were loud, clear, and disciplined.
This one sounded rough.
Primitive.
Almost... savage.
For a moment, I wondered if it was another signal from our side.
But then I looked around.
Every resting mercenary had turned toward the sound.
Confusion spread across their faces.
The same uneasy feeling settled inside my chest.
Something...
was terribly wrong.