Meanwhile, Dillon and two other team members, who had been scouting outside, returned to the camp.
"You're back. Did you find anything new?"
The squad leader stood up and motioned for the three of them to enter the tent.
The three soldiers first saluted in unison before beginning to report the situation one by one.
A tall, slender team member standing beside Dillon spoke to the squad leader.
"After several days of observation, we discovered that the beasts' lair is located in the northern mountains of Celestoria.
It's a treacherous area of dense forests and interwoven caves. The terrain is enclosed, with only two main paths for entry, both occupied by large beasts."
The squad leader quickly wrote down the information on a piece of paper.
"Thank you for your report, Albert."
After completing his report, Albert saluted once more and stepped back.
Another team member immediately added, "We also spotted several giant beasts, around four or five in number, as well as some small, incredibly fast beasts moving back and forth through the mountains."
Hearing this additional information about the beasts, the squad leader took out a darker-colored quill to make notes.
"Excellent, this is very useful information. Good job, Victor."
Just as Dillon was about to report his findings, a figure pulled back the tent flap.
Everyone present froze for a moment.
Borne stood at the entrance, his right hand resting on his left shoulder, his body covered in wounds, his clothes in tatters, and his posture weak.
In a faint voice, he said, "Reporting in, I'm back."
Seeing that Borne was about to collapse from exhaustion, Dillon and Victor quickly rushed forward to support him.
The squad leader immediately pulled out a chair for Borne to sit down.
"Sit down and rest right away; I'll go get someone to treat your wounds."
The squad leader rushed out of the tent to find a medic.
Borne, too exhausted to move, was helped into the chair by his two comrades.
Dillon and Victor each took some rations and water from their packs and offered them to Borne, but he slowly shook his head, having no appetite.
Soon, the squad leader returned with two medics.
The medics were swift in their actions, quickly laying Borne flat on a stretcher and carrying him away.
The squad leader and his teammates followed closely behind, only stopping when Borne was brought into the medical tent.
The squad leader, with clenched fists, paced nervously back and forth outside, while the two teammates, equally anxious, clasped their hands together, silently praying for their comrade.
Borne lay on a wooden bed inside the medical tent.
His body, weighed down by fatigue and weakness, felt as though it were trapped in an endless swamp.
The tent was quiet and warm, with the faint scent of herbs in the air, mingling a hint of sweet grass and the deep, earthy aroma of incense.
Inside the medical tent, the noise of the outside world was muffled; only the occasional whispers from afar sounded distant and vague.
The pain in his left arm still burned like a flame scorching his nerves, a mark left by the Wind Falcon.
Its talons had torn through Borne's skin, slashed deep into the muscles, and penetrated deeply.
His shoulder had begun to fester, the wound worsening.
He could clearly feel the depth of the injury, each inch seemingly burning away his life's energy, weakening him further.
Now, the wound was freshly wrapped with clean white bandages, emanating a sense of tension amidst stillness.
The air was filled with a faint scent of blood, mixed with the herbal fragrance, forming an ancient and heavy atmosphere.
Beside Borne, a medic was concentrating on casting light-based healing magic.
The healer seemed quite young, with a serene, contemplative look on his face.
His hands hovered above Borne's left arm, his fingertips glowing with a soft, golden light.
The light was not blinding; it was like the first ray of dawn, warm and full of hope.
As his incantations flowed gently, the light seemed to seep into Borne's wound like a stream of water, gently wrapping around his muscles and veins.
As soon as the light touched his skin, Borne felt a warm energy slowly permeate his body.
It felt like the sunlight of a spring day, carrying the power to melt ice and snow, gradually dispelling the pain in his left arm.
When it reached his wound, there was no sharp pain; instead, it brought a sense of peace and comfort.
During the healing process, Borne's thoughts began to drift back to the past, guided by the soothing warmth.
He clearly remembered a certain autumn morning, when a mist enveloped the forest, and the air was filled with the damp smell of earth.
He followed closely behind his grandfather, stepping over the dew-drenched grass, his steps light yet cautious, afraid of snapping a twig and making noise.
Grandfather, though already old at the time, still walked with a steady gait, holding a well-worn hunting knife in his hand, with a bow slung over his back.
"Borne," his grandfather's voice was deep yet gentle.
"Today, you will set traps on your own. Let's see if you can catch anything."
He turned to look at little Borne, his eyes filled with expectation and encouragement.
Borne felt a bit nervous, but he always trusted his grandfather's words.
He mimicked his grandfather, using dry branches and string to set traps in the forest.
At that time, he was still too young, and although the traps seemed intricate, they often caught nothing, easily avoided by squirrels or rabbits.
Yet even so, his grandfather never scolded him, instead smiling and saying,
"It's alright. You learn something every time. Keep at it, and one day, you will succeed."
His grandfather's gentle words repeatedly soothed him in his mind.
Gradually, Borne's thoughts returned to the present, and the pain in his left arm had somewhat subsided.
The golden light continued to envelop the wound, like invisible threads stitching the torn muscles and skin together.
His breathing became steady, as if the healing power was not only mending his wound but also soothing his exhausted soul.
The medic stood beside him, his hands still hovering in the air, as the light-based healing magic continued to flow into Borne's body.
After a while, the medic stopped chanting, and the light gradually faded, leaving a faint warmth lingering in the air.
He looked at Borne and spoke softly, "You came just in time; if you had delayed any longer, you might have faced the risk of amputation."
Hearing this, Borne silently felt relieved in his heart. "Thank goodness for Radish."
The medic examined the wound closely and said to Borne, "The wound has healed, but you still need time to recover.
Don't rush into action. Give yourself some time."
Borne understood that his current physical condition was not enough to allow him to return to the battlefield immediately.
Though his left arm had healed, it still felt a bit stiff and weak, needing time for full recovery.
"I will be careful," Borne replied, his voice low but his tone full of gratitude.
He slowly got up and walked out of the medical tent.
Outside the tent, the squad leader and his comrades saw that Borne was okay and embraced him, genuinely happy for his recovery.
"Borne," the squad leader suddenly called out to him.
Borne immediately responded, saluting the squad leader.
"You don't need to take on any missions for the next half month. Just rest well," the squad leader said, handing him some medicinal herbs.
Borne felt immense gratitude toward his squad leader and comrades, thinking to himself, "Thank you."