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墨書 Inktalez
The battle had come to an end, and the tense string of anxiety finally loosened. Everyone sat on the ground, and John struggled to hold a strip of cloth, attempting to bind his severed arm to the rifle.
"I'll help you," Redman said, dropping Wu Lan and tearing a piece of cloth into strips to assist John in securing his arm.
"Is it still hurting?"
Hearing the question, John forced a smile. Aside from the pain, he felt fine.
"Pain is good; it means you're still alive." Redman, the nobleman, unexpectedly joked with John.
John was taken aback by his demeanor. "Young master, what happened to you? Are you joking?"
"Call me brother," Redman replied seriously.
"Ah, brother?" John repeated instinctively.
Redman helped John up. "You saved my life and woke me up. From now on, I’ll look out for you. Let’s see how well this is tied."
"Young master, I mean brother." Seeing the change in Redman's expression, John quickly corrected himself. "It’s tighter than what I could manage myself. But what should we do next?"
"What’s next?" Redman admitted he didn’t know either.
Only John remained among the soldiers, while just over sixty members of the Militia survived. It could be said that if it weren't for their efforts, Redman's Fourth Regiment would have faced total annihilation.
Seeing Redman's lack of enthusiasm, John took charge. "Everyone rest for an hour. After that, except for those severely injured, follow me to clean up the battlefield and see if there are any spoils!"
"Understood." The others replied weakly.
Looking at the current situation, Redman added, "Half of whatever you find belongs to you!"
"Yes!" This time everyone responded loudly, as if their wounds had suddenly ceased to hurt.
【Occupation: Commander】
Level: Proficiency:
N/A
【Occupation: Soldier】
Level: Proficiency:
After upgrading two job templates, John found that while his external injuries had healed, the internal ones had also been treated thanks to his improved physical condition. The blood had stopped flowing from the corner of his mouth.
Nearby, Redman was cleaning the body of Lyd, moving slowly as he wiped her face and wrapped her wounds with cloth, carefully putting boots on her mangled feet.
John looked at Lyd, who lay with her eyes closed, appearing as if she were merely asleep. He and Lyd had grown familiar over time, transitioning from a superior-subordinate relationship to something more personal. It was difficult for him to accept her departure, especially after having witnessed life and death so closely in recent days.
"Help me out here, will you? Let’s give Lyd a proper farewell."
"Sure."
The two of them chose a spot by the river and began to dig a grave.
After more than ten minutes, a mound stood by the riverbank. John knelt beside the makeshift tombstone, took out his flask from his waist, uncorked it, and poured some liquor onto the ground.
"Lyd, this grave we dug for you isn’t too bad. You have the river at your back and a hillside in front. It’s a beautiful spot by the water, with plains stretching out across the way. Don’t worry; once I make it big, I’ll come visit you often."
After bidding farewell to Lyd, John left the site in Redman’s care and headed toward the hillside where the orc attackers had come from. Since these creatures didn’t seem to carry any supplies, it was likely they had dumped their backpacks somewhere nearby. Looking around at the vast plains, he suspected they might be located on that hillside.
He encountered Johnny and a few members of the Militia as they trudged toward the hill. With no horses to ride, they could only climb slowly.
After more than half an hour of climbing, they finally reached the top of the hill.
"Boss, there are several packages here."
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