His gaze fell on the towering pile of paperwork on the desk.
Borne gave a wry smile at the stack upon stack of unfinished documents.
The room was filled with the scent of paper and ink, a setting unfamiliar to him.
He had never imagined that one day he would be doing clerical work.
He had almost never considered that he would ever be sitting at a desk.
His hand held not a heavy warhammer but a delicate quill.
"How are you feeling today?"
The medic lifted the tent flap and entered, his tone full of concern.
Sunlight streamed through the half-open flap, casting light onto his face.
Borne squinted involuntarily, raising his hand to block the blinding light.
However, the motion tugged at his wound, and a sharp pain surged through him.
He couldn't help but let out a low groan.
The injury had left him unable to ride into battle, forcing him to rest here.
"Not bad, just that all this paperwork is giving me a headache."
Borne replied, his voice somewhat hoarse.
The medic smiled and shook his head.
"This is all you can do for now, don't overthink it. Your wound needs time to heal; you must be patient.
Still, your physical resilience is truly amazing. Every time I see your recovery speed, I find it unbelievable."
Borne had heard these words from the medic at least ten times; he knew he had no other choice.
The medic instructed Borne to sit properly; he needed to change Borne's dressing and examine his body again.
Following the medic's instructions, Borne took off his shirt, revealing his well-built physique.
His muscles were neither too large nor too small, a build perfectly suited for combat.
This body was the result of years of constant training and participation in missions.
The scars on his body were countless, with older ones having become a permanent part of his skin.
A long scar, as long as an arm, marked his back.
Some of the newer scars were still healing.
It was a miracle he was still alive.
The medic pulled out a small knife and carefully cut away the bandage on Borne's shoulder.
The wound still appeared optimistic.
You could see the sinew and muscle, but it was better than last time.
Previously, you could directly see the fractured bone.
"It's truly a miracle you're alive, the gods must be protecting you."
Only Borne knew that he had survived because of the fire burning in his chest.
He didn't answer the medic, focusing instead on the sound of his heartbeat.
Since then, he hadn't felt that sensation again.
The medic extended his right hand, a faint white light appeared in his palm.
The light targeted the wound on Borne's shoulder.
The action caused Borne a great deal of pain; he nearly cried out.
He gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, and clenched his right fist.
This continued for quite a while until the white light finally faded.
The medic wiped the sweat from his forehead, letting out a long sigh.
He gently patted Borne on the back.
"Don't be so tough; if you need to scream, just scream. You look scarier than a magical beast right now."
The medic reapplied the medicine and bound the wound with fresh bandages.
Only then did Borne finally start to relax.
His furrowed brow, like that of an angry lion, slowly eased.
He exhaled deeply.
After the medic gave a few more instructions, Borne put on his shirt and resumed his work with the documents.
For someone who used to only focus on how to defeat his enemies, this kind of paperwork felt unusually complex and tedious.
The quill scratched against the paper, producing a 'shasha' sound.
He set down the quill and massaged his slightly aching wrist.
He felt a wave of mental fatigue wash over him.
He rubbed his temples.
But at the same time, there was also a sense of relief that comes from completing a task.
He sighed deeply.
"That should be about it."
He muttered under his breath.
The work was meticulous, involving sifting through various reports to extract useful intelligence.
He then transcribed this into a concise document for the higher-ups to use in their decision-making.
Just as he was about to hand these files over to the squad leader, the curtain was suddenly lifted.
"Borne!"
A familiar voice called out, tinged with urgency and excitement.
Standing in the doorway was his comrade Harley, covered in dust and sweat.
It was clear he had just returned from a mission, and there was a gleam of excitement in his eyes.
"Harley! You're back! How did the mission go?"
Borne exclaimed in surprise, a smile spreading across his face.
Harley rushed forward and gave Borne a hug.
Borne shouted in pain, and only then did Harley let go.
Harley laughed heartily and brushed off his dusty clothes.
"I heard from the others that you made it back, almost didn't make it, huh?"
So, Borne began recounting his experience, carefully omitting any mention of the blazing fire in his chest.
After hearing Borne's ordeal, Harley gave him a thumbs-up in admiration.
"Enough about me, how did your mission go?"
"Nothing special, just a few small-time crooks.
But I did bring back some important information."
As he spoke, Harley's expression grew serious.
Borne furrowed his brow, and his smile faded.
"Headquarters has already set a date for the assault on the magical beasts in the Celestoria Mountain Range, but it hasn't been officially announced yet."
Borne's gaze fixed on Harley, his heart tightening.
Though he had already heard rumors about this upcoming campaign,he was still surprised to receive confirmation.
"Is the information reliable?"
"Yeah, I swear by the gods. I overheard a few centurions discussing it while I was reporting back."
Harley sighed, taking a seat across from Borne, and continued.
"They say the beasts in the mountains are getting more aggressive, like something is directing them to attack.
What's worse, they're gradually expanding their territory.
They've already attacked several villages near the mountain range, and the higher-ups believe they must act quickly."
After Harley finished speaking, the two fell into a brief silence before Borne broke it.
"Do the others know about this?"
"I'm not sure. Anyway, the camp's atmosphere is pretty tense right now. All of us scouts have been recalled one by one."
Hearing Harley's words, Borne began to recall the contents of the documents he had been working on.
No wonder supplies and equipment were being shipped in from all over.
Borne straightened the messy pile of documents on the table.
"I need to hand these over to the squad leader."
Seeing Borne getting ready to move, Harley immediately stepped forward with a smile and offered to help.
"Your injuries haven't fully healed yet. Let me do it for you."
Without waiting for Borne's response, he reached out and grabbed the heavy stack of documents.
"Let's go find the squad leader together,"
Borne said as he started walking, with Harley following closely behind.
The two left the tent and headed toward the squad leader's tent.
Borne and Harley soon arrived in front of the squad leader's tent.
They called out a report at the entrance and, upon receiving a response, walked inside.
They saw several other team members.
They were discussing the details of the mission with the squad leader.
Saluting the squad leader, the other team members turned and greeted Borne enthusiastically.
"Report! The documents have been transcribed."
The squad leader acknowledged them and pointed to a small table nearby.
Harley placed the documents on the small table.
The squad leader scanned the room, noticing that everyone was present.
"From now on, all your field assignments are temporarily suspended.
Headquarters has given us a three-day break; after that, we'll need to continue marching.
Make the most of this break because the big battle is coming soon.
Afterward, go to the logistics office to collect your pay.
You can advance three months' wages and receive an additional allowance."
The squad leader spoke to his subordinates with a serious expression.
Borne and Harley exchanged glances, each seeing the other's surprise.
Both felt a strange sensation rising within them, sensing that things were more complicated than they had imagined.
None of them had anticipated that this battle would come so suddenly, as if some unforeseen change had forced the higher-ups to make a hasty decision.
What kind of development could compel them to engage in combat on such short notice?