A Hospital in Another World?

From high above, a riot of colorful people converged ahead not far away. Some tried to rush in, others attempted to flee, while many stood bewildered, stuck in place, a jostling, unyielding mass.

Amidst the crowd, cries of anguish rose and fell continuously.

Garrett was frantic. He spread his arms, pushing and shouting vigorously as he edged forward, yelling, "I'm a doctor! I'm a healer! Let me through!!!"

Finally, some started making way for him. One, two, three people. Garrett expressed gratitude as he squeezed through, all the while hearing questions shouted by onlookers:

"What's happening?"

"The platform collapsed!"

"How could it collapse like that?"

"They were throwing candies down, a huge scramble, and then..."

The situation was dire!

In events of this scale, the worst fear was accidents like collapses and stampedes!

Garrett's heart raced. Squeezing into the inner circle, his gaze surveyed the scene, even worse than he'd imagined.

At the center of the crowd, a wooden platform was half-collapsed, tilting precariously. Steps around the platform's edge had crumbled, littered with fallen individuals.

There were loud screams, moans of pain, some struggling to climb out, while others lay motionless on the ground. Some were desperately trying to help, while others moved aimlessly, unsure of what to do...

Garrett even spotted a young woman with her right leg bent unnaturally, blood oozing. Yet she paid no attention to her own injury, using her hands to crawl towards the shattered platform:

"Little Lila—Little Lila—"

A child?!

A child was hurt?!

Garrett's hairs stood on end. Suddenly, a figure dashed past him, recognized—Young John, the first priest he had met since arriving here.

Young John had rushed to the side of the young woman, his palm emitting a soft white light, reaching for her bleeding leg. But she resisted his treatment, grasping his wrist firmly, dragging him towards the debris of the stage:

"My child! Save my child—"

Young John froze. From all directions, several hands instantly clutched at him, grabbing his ankles, tugging at the hem of his priestly robe:

"Save me..."

"Save me..."

"Priest, save me... please—"

"I'll give you money, I'll give you money—there are five silver coins in this pouch, all for you, I have more at home—"

Young John was at a loss. He turned abruptly, seeing Garrett standing nearby, yelling at him with a trembling voice:

"What do we do! I can't save so many people! I—I—I can save only one at most!"

"You're too slow in saving people! Listen to me!"

Garrett stepped forward beside him. Grabbing Young John, he raised his other hand high, fingertips shimmering with a white light:

"I'm a healer! Listen to my commands! Step back! Step back! Spread out!"

After repeating several times, the surrounding clamor finally subsided. Garrett surveyed the scene and pointed out a clever-looking young lad and a somewhat familiar burly man:

"You! Go find the city guards!

You! Go to the Temple of the War God, tell them I'm Garrett Nordmark! Ask them to come and help, there are many injured here!

The rest, don't panic. Elders and children step back, others pair up, carry the injured out one by one, place them in a clean area!"

In such chaos, someone stepping up to take command made others gradually comply. The young lad and burly man dashed off, while the adult men and women, some looking at Young John, formed groups and began carrying people. A shopkeeper even emerged, shouting:

"My shop's nearby, bring them there!"

Perfect! Garrett nodded at him, gesturing. Then he rushed to the injured, inspecting each one, simultaneously employing some magician's tricks with this basic magic:

"This leg is broken! Two people, each support one side, and lift! Be careful with the leg!"

Snap!

A wave of bright yellow marked his right shoulder, distinct. Severe injury, but conscious, no immediate danger to life—use yellow marking to indicate delayed treatment!

Ah, these magician's tricks were really handy—level 0 magic, lasting up to an hour, coloring within a one-cubic-foot range every 6 seconds.

If it weren't for magic, in this haste, where could he find a bunch of four-colored tags?

"Alright!" Two strong men lifted the person and started walking. Garrett hurriedly stopped them: "Wait!"

He stood still, bowing his head, focusing, taking deep breaths—in, out—in, out. After counting six seconds, he raised his hand again, drawing a bright yellow line near the fracture of the patient's leg.

"Find a sturdy bandage, tie it where I marked! If possible, insert a wooden stick, twist it tight! Stop the bleeding!"

"Got it!"

The men carrying nodded vigorously. The young priest, almost as loud as them, shouted, "Aren't you going to treat him first?"

"Prioritize the severity!" Garrett shouted back, "Save those in critical condition first, then treat severe injuries, minor ones can wait! Hurry—guide them in carrying the injured, come by after they're brought in, I'll mark them!"

"Okay!"

Young John sprinted off. Even though he was out enjoying the Midsummer Festival, he wore his priestly robes. People might not recognize him, but they recognized the robe. Seeing him following orders, everyone naturally followed Garrett's lead. Soon, another injured person was uncovered. Garrett half-knelt, swiftly checking:

"This... unconscious. Checking pulse and heartbeat, be cautious! Another one coming! Three people together, one supports the head and shoulders, one holds the hips, and one the legs, keep a straight line, on three—lift!"

Snap!

A splash of bright red marked the person. Unresponsive, unconscious, with a pulse and breathing—this was the top priority for urgent care!

They needed immediate transport to a hospital, but now there was no hospital... Once the sorting was done, they had to hurry and check, ready for CPR or if a priest arrived, prioritize letting them handle it!

"Red marks in one area, place the yellows together, greens and blacks—each in their own area! Leave someone with each patient, wait to assist me!"

Garrett loudly instructed the volunteers helping carry people. After shouting, he lowered his head, immediately examining the next injured person:

"This one... no breathing, no heartbeat, no time to attend to you now, my condolences..."

Snap!

A black mark was smudged on. Too busy at the moment; after sorting the injured, if there's free hands, then decide if there's still any value in trying to save them.

"This one... can get up by themselves, go on, go aside and wait!"

Snap!

A green mark was delivered. These were the last priority, after the other injured were attended to, or when the on-site treatment resources became available, these minor injuries could be looked into.

Of course, it was necessary to keep an eye on the injuries, who knew if there were hidden physiological changes, like hypoxemia, metabolic acidosis, if left unattended, they might suddenly deteriorate

...

Garrett dashed back and forth, shouting ceaselessly. For a moment, the area around the stage was in constant motion, easily several dozen people bustling about under his command. Maintaining order, moving and transporting the injured, carrying the collapsed stage...

Many hands make light work; what was a scene of hellish accidents moments ago was soon half-cleared.

---------------

• Your invaluable feedback and ratings mean the world to me. Please take a moment to rate this novel at NovelNext.
• If you come across any mistakes within this chapter, kindly notify me in the comments below, so that I can make the necessary corrections.