What I saw unsettled me. The face of a middle-aged man was half a meter away from me. Gray eyes, small beard, rough features. It seemed like everything, nothing unusual, but there was one detail. His face was covered in blood, although it was impossible to tell whether it was his own or not, since his head was hidden by a helmet without a visor. It was a soldier in armor.
His brown eyes were filled with a variety of emotions. Anger, rage, determination, and also something else that was not clear to me.
- Wake up! — his calloused hand hit me in the face. You know, this helped. My thoughts cleared, and I finally stared at the war in anticipation.
—Have you come to your senses? Great! Follow me," turning on his heels, he rushed to the exit of the tent. I followed him.
Coming out of the rag shelter, we found ourselves in a standard camp, which is located in the rear of the army. A recreation area, places to sleep, dining areas - all this was present here. And between all this, soldiers scurried about mixed with magicians. I wasn't even going to count them, but off the top of my head it's somewhere around three thousand. What then is the entire composition of the army?
We wandered among the tents and buildings for about twenty minutes. Gradually we moved away from the camp itself, getting closer and closer to its border. Finally, the destination of our journey appeared.
A little further away there were several horse-drawn carts. Each of them contained a dozen healing magicians. I understood this from the robes, the same as the Spirit's, only of a different cut and much cheaper.
Approaching one of them, we stopped, waving his hand to me, the soldier went to a group of people who were standing apart.
While he was leaving to report, I looked around. An ordinary cart, from about the fourteenth century. The horses are also ordinary, differing only in coloring. Inside the carts, as I noticed earlier, there were healing magicians. At the moment, most of them were very nervous, looking around strangely.
-Why did you get up? Well, quickly get into the cart! — once again I was distracted by the cry of the same soldier. Having looked at him again, I climbed into one of the carts and sat down there. Twenty seconds later we set off.
The measured movement should be calming, but alas, this is not about carts. We felt every bump under the wheels, and if we increase the speed, we can feel like we're on some kind of attraction. Shaking, rattling, creaking carts.
Fields and isolated trees rushed past us. Soldiers on horseback patrolled around our "caravan." In total there were about forty people, not counting those who were in the central carts, in case of repelling an enemy attack. Each of them was armed with a sword, a halberd and a short bow.
Our trip wasn't very long. After about thirty minutes we began to slow down, and about five minutes before that I began to distinguish incomprehensible sounds. Only later did I understand what those sounds were. Clash of two armies.
- To the exit! Go-go! - Identical screams were heard from all the carts. Having jumped to the ground, we went to the main concentration of healers.
Having settled down at the very end of the crowd, I began to wait. For about another five minutes the others arrived, after which we moved on. The strange thing is that none of the magicians spoke. Some were trembling, some were impatient, but everyone was silent, there was not even a whisper.
From behind the backs of my "comrades" I saw where we were heading. Imagine a plot of land about five hundred by five hundred meters, fenced around the perimeter with wooden posts and shields. Introduced? Now add the incredible power of the magical dome that surrounded this space, it was visible even with ordinary vision, as well as a whole crowd of soldiers that were guarding around. This is exactly where they led us.
The smell of burning and metal was also present here, only here it was a little different. If there, in the first camp, there was a smell of fires and ordinary metal, then here there was a smell of something else. Human flesh and blood.
Having entered under the dome, we stopped, and I immediately lost my equanimity, simply falling to my knees. I didn't care that someone ran up to me and started shaking me by the shoulders trying to bring me to consciousness, no. My whole being was surrounded by people's emotions.
The pain is so bright that even I began to feel it throughout my body. She was everywhere. From a cut off leg to burnt skin on the chest, from a knocked out tooth to lungs that were partially torn out. Approaching heat and cold.
Grief is an understanding of one's uselessness, of approaching death, of the loss of a close friend or brother.
Hate everything around. To the enemies who did this to me, to the friends who left me to die, to the command who sent me to slaughter. Why me? Why am I suffering?
Despair - the awareness of my helplessness... it tore me apart from the inside.
The thirst for life that burned like a beacon in the pitch darkness. I won't die, I can handle it. No one can stop me, not even death.
Thirst for death. Just one look at my body, and I understand that no one needs me. Who needs a codec? Now I just have to die so as not to feel this pain.
And the apogee of it all is madness. Illusions of the presence of relatives, dead friends, girlfriends who stood around me and looked. Not wanting to accept reality as it is. Hysterical laughter that tried to cover up the pain, but to no avail. All enemies, enemies all around. I have to run away! Run away? No, kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!
I was going crazy. My brain was dying, and so was I.
"Open your eyes, little one," a soft, senile voice brought me out of the abyss of despair and madness. The mind gradually cleared up, letting go of unnecessary images and thoughts, but not forgetting them. Opening my eyes, I somehow distantly stared into the understanding, blue eyes that were slightly covered with the former haze. Small but visible wrinkles surrounded these eyes. Gray hair that fell down like a waterfall. - Well done. You've done it, now it's time to work. Time doesn't wait. Hurry up.
Having said this, the man, and it was just a man, not an old man, just all gray-haired, stood up and headed to the other end of the tent. Only the purple medallion remained hanging on my chest, which cut off other people's emotions from me. Squeezing it in my palm, I stood up.
"Go to anyone and start working," said the young magician, who had previously also tried to put me in order. - But remember, we are at war. The priority is given to those who can quickly get to their feet and go into battle. Got it? - nod. - Then go ahead! - With a blow to my back, he pushed me in the direction of the wounded.
Their number was not constant. Some were brought, some left, and there were those who died without waiting for help. The last ones were carried out by the soldiers on duty.
Having scanned the space next to me, I found the one who was less wounded than the others. A young boy, about sixteen years old, and already at war. Approaching him, I began treatment. He was simply pierced without hitting anything vital. A couple of minutes and he will be on his feet.
Having finished with him and sent him on his way, I headed to the next one. The same picture, but the wound is more torn and the artery is affected.
Severed limbs, holes in the body from dozens of arrows, missing eyes, burnt hands, frostbitten hands, pierced heads, blood in the lungs, broken bones, missing half of the skull...
Everything merged into one continuous round dance. Save as much as possible, sacrifice someone, turn a blind eye to another death. There is no opportunity to save the soldier in your arms and look into his gradually glassy eyes that refused to accept reality.
Ignore the soldier who, with a steamed chest, grabs your legs and begs you to save him, but you ignore him, because he cannot be saved, and there are many patients.
Several times the mana level approached a critical level. We had to stop and wait until the reserve was filled to at least half, and then go back to the "battle."
An hour, two, five, twelve... It lasted forever, I was tired of keeping track of time. The number of those saved long ago exceeded a hundred, and the number of those who died in my hands exceeded ten. There was no end to them. Someone visited my table twice.
But then, after a day, during which many magicians fainted more than once, the line of wounded began to dry up. Maybe I can finally rest? This exact thought flashed through my head, because the power of the amulet is not limitless. It only temporarily cuts off the emotions of those around you, and then gradually reduces its impact, allowing you to fully feel this bouquet.
Then a soldier woke me up and went to one of the main healers. Having told him something, he immediately took a step back from the angry old man. He started yelling at the top of his lungs, although nothing could be heard. After some time, he somehow went limp, looked at everyone with a sad look and waved his hand.
At the same moment, a soldier ran up to each magician and led him to the exit. This fate did not spare me either. We all headed towards the exit.
Five minutes later it became clear why we were taken outside. The allied army won the clash and gradually pushed back the enemies, moving further and further from the camp. There was no time to bring in the wounded; they died on the road. That's why we changed our location.
Some magician, with a wave of his hand, conjured a portal arch into which we all entered. There were no unpleasant sensations like during apparation. You're just in one place, and after a step you're already in another.
The sounds of explosions, clashes of blades, roars of people and animals - this cacophony did not seem to stop. We plunged into it again. True, now we will not be under the protection of the bath. Everything will have to be done on the ground, literally a few steps from the battlefield.
The nightmare began all over again. New patients, new emotions, old results. My mind was working at its limit, gradually overstepping it. My control grew by leaps and bounds, and the reserve did not lag behind it. Mentalism and metamorphism helped as much as they could. With the edge of my consciousness, I noted small changes in the body that allowed me to move at the same speed, but spend less energy on it. It adapted to the current situation. The mind began, gradually, to process more and more information in less time.
But it was only a few hours later that I noticed a major change. My emotions were going away. The soul could not cope with the influx from the outside that I encountered, so it gradually lowered the threshold of sensitivity. I understood that this was not good, but I had no desire to change anything. I don't want to feel that pain, rage and madness again.
The last hours were imprinted in my consciousness only as separate frames. And this despite my memory. And later I was able to restore everything, but this will not happen soon.
The soldier who brought me here died in my arms.
Another meal. Which one is already counted? The usual mess... There were no conversations, not the time now.
Here is a girl with whom we saved more than one patient, falls dead from an arrow hit in the head. She didn't have enough mana for a normal barrier, and the enemy sent sabotage towards us.
The next picture is of the saboteurs lying on the ground, all dead, and in the center of them I am standing, covered in blood. In the pool of blood that flowed under my feet, I clearly saw a gray-blue light instead of my usual eyes.
We are all moving closer to the army again, but not as healers. There is no need to treat anymore. The army needs "combat" magicians, and who else but healers would know how to kill a reasonable one?
We burst into a crowd of enemies. I tear with claws, teeth, blades. I get stabbed back. I taste blood, feel alien flesh under my feet and claws.
The banal spell of skin fusion, which is necessary after an operation, in my performance, fused the branches of soldiers, as well as the mouth, nose and ears. They cannot see, hear, smell, and cannot breathe. About two dozen people fall to the ground, tearing their necks and faces with their hands in an attempt to breathe air.
There was a lot going on. Intestines, both mine and others', treatment right on the knee, another meal. Killings, rescuing the wounded; attack, another field camp.
I didn't remember the last hour (it felt like) at all. Its restoration will require even more effort.
I had the opportunity to fully taste the delights of war.
There is a flash of light and I open my eyes. The brain responded with a familiar room, so distant, but recognizable.
There was no more blood, no more screams, no more marked limbs. I was where I started. Empty space, bare walls. Lack of corpses. Everything is as before. But there was something that stood out from the picture.
The smell of blood that I could still smell.
"You passed," the whisper, as if through cotton wool, finally reached my consciousness. - I won't congratulate you. You paid enough for this achievement - pain and grief... that's what was in his eyes.
"I know," said an unfamiliar hoarse voice. After a moment, I realized it was my voice. - How long has it been?
"It's one hour here," answered the Spirit, still looking at me. - There - seven days.
- Seven days? But I was only there for three days," I was surprised. The old man just shook his head. - It's clear.
We fell silent. My brain was processing information intensely. A week. The standard test lasts two days. Another trick of the spirit?
So, without thinking of anything, I headed for the exit, without saying goodbye to the spirit. On the way, I cast a standard spell, which turned out to be much more powerful, but I didn't have the strength to be surprised. Tired
— Congratulations on passing the test, Three Star Apprentice of the School of Healing. "Come back when you've rested," it sounded behind me as I crossed the threshold of the room.
Turning to the source, I only came across a bare wall. After standing near her for a few seconds, he headed to his room.
Only the purple amulet continued to hang around my neck