A Hospital in Another World?

Alone, facing 29 wounded. Among them, two marked in black had lost their breath and heartbeat. Three marked in red, with heartbeats but unconscious, needing immediate rescue. Five marked in yellow, not in immediate danger but requiring swift treatment...

He needed help!

Not the kind of temporary aid gathered for surgery at the Temple of the War God! He needed internal medicine, surgery, anesthesia, diagnostics, imaging, nurses—basically, a fully educated medical team!

Garrett wished he could cast a wide healing spell immediately. A shower of light, and everyone would be healed, bouncing back to life.

But, setting aside the fact that he'd only seen this stuff in online stories, even if it did exist in this world, he wasn't at the right level to release it.

So, what to do?

What could he do to honor the profession of a doctor and save as many patients as possible?

Garrett took a deep breath, then another. Years of experience in emergency care helped him quickly calm down and survey the scene.

His gaze shifted from the red zone of unconscious patients to the groaning and moaning in the yellow zone, then to the perhaps salvageable, or maybe already beyond saving, black zone. For a moment, he felt like he split in two:

One half was caring and compassionate, willing to do anything to rescue all patients;

The other half was calm and detached, assessing the order of rescue and the probability of success.

Who to rescue first?

Who to give up on?

—Save lives first, then treat ailments.

Emergency doctors never worked alone, never acted as lone heroes.

Sustaining lives, preserving vital signs, delaying, delaying, until the reinforcements arrived—colleagues in the hospital, here, priests from various temples—

Of the 29 casualties, who was in the most danger? Who would die immediately if left unattended, and who could be delayed for at least an hour?

Garrett made a swift decision. Striding forward, he directed his attention to the injured in the green zone:

"Give each of them a cup of hot water, add some sugar, add some salt, have them sit over there and drink. Tell them the priests will arrive soon."

"I'm here!"

Before the words finished, a priest burst in. Garrett recognized him, an apprentice from the Temple of the War God, nearly on par with John, who had previously assisted Garrett. The young priest looked around and hurried over:

"Garrett, what can I do?"

"You and John, head to the yellow zone!" Garrett shouted back. "Look after the patients with uncontrolled bleeding, stop it if you can. I've taught you how!"

"Alright!"

The young priest turned and left. Garrett called after him, "What about the others?"

"Don't know! Met them on the street!"

Who knew how long until the main force arrived at the battlefield. Garrett shrugged, hastening through the yellow zone, checking the status of the bleeding.

Luck was on his side. The city guards, lacking medical expertise, followed orders well; wherever he'd marked, they applied tourniquets. More fortunate yet, the place where the wounded were being sheltered happened to be a restaurant, and the owner was bustling in the kitchen, preparing hot water.

Hmm... in that case, if surgery was needed later, at least the instruments could be sterilized... Garrett thought as he kept moving, heading straight for the red zone.

There were only three patients in the red zone. A young man with a bleeding head wound that seemed to have stopped, no apparent visible injuries; a middle-aged woman, pale-faced, curled up, with multiple bruises, especially on the chest and abdomen; an old man, legs fractured in multiple places, lying in a pool of blood, barely breathing.

With just one glance, the former Deputy Director of the Emergency Department had already made corresponding judgments.

The young man, highly suspected of a head injury, attention on maintaining an open airway, monitoring vital signs;

The middle-aged woman, highly suspected of severe internal injuries, suggested abdominal puncture, ultrasound, CT scans, maybe even exploratory laparotomy—oh, none of these conditions were available, disrupted plans;

The elderly man, highly suspected of fractures causing major blood vessel ruptures, suggested immediate hemorrhage control.

Garrett's quick assessment immediately categorized the urgency. Head and abdominal injuries were beyond the scope of current medical abilities, requiring stronger priests perhaps; however, severe bleeding from major arteries was precisely his area of expertise—

"You!" He first looked at the volunteer beside the young man. "Have him turn his head to the side, tilt it sideways. If he vomits, clear it immediately, don't let it choke him. If necessary, open his mouth to clear it. Understood?"

The volunteer nodded. Garrett then moved his gaze to the middle-aged woman without speaking. Finally, he hurried toward the elderly man, simultaneously raising his voice:

"Bring a sharp knife! Thinner and faster!"

"Here!"

A city guard immediately handed him a knife. Garrett, not bothering with sterilization, made an incision at the site of the fracture—

"Ah!!!"

The old man screamed. Garrett frowned. Intense pain would trigger adrenaline, rapidly raising blood pressure, leading to cardiac arrest, cerebral hemorrhage, a series of complications—could it be this unfortunate?

It didn't matter how unfortunate it was! Without anesthesia, without spells or divine arts for anesthesia, this was the only way!

Garrett gritted his teeth, hastening to cut the blood vessel's severed end. Then, he hurled a healing spell—without the means to suture, he didn't have the time to watch. Only the treatment was thrown.

Let the blood vessel close on its own; deal with the rest when setting the bones!

From the perspective of a surgeon or a priest, this method was quite unconventional. But Garrett couldn't afford to consider that anymore: nothing was more important than saving lives. His knife swiftly moved, dealing with several major blood vessels in succession. A thunderous noise outside, and two more priests rushed in.

"Garrett! Anything we can assist with!"

One wore a vertically striped long skirt of red and yellow, the other a light brown shirt, both adorned with floral wreaths on their heads—devotees of the gods of nature. Garrett's eyes lit up:

"Joanna! Anthony! You've arrived just in time!"

He had met these two at a gathering on the night of the new moon. The man was level three, the woman level four, both surpassing him by more than a tier. Garrett shouted loudly:

"Joanna! Where's your hawk! Can you send it out to call for help! We need priests! Many priests!—Once you're done, check the two marked in black! If they're gone, come and help!"

"Alright!"

Joanna turned and left. As she walked, she tore off a piece of red cloth from her skirt. In moments, there was a hawk cry outside; Joanna tied the red cloth to the hawk's claw, caressing the eagle feathers:

"Good child, fly lower! Circle in the air, let everyone see, then guide them! It's up to you to bring everyone over!"

She earnestly instructed her companion. Anthony had already rushed to the black zone, inspecting the wounded. Shortly after, he shouted, "The young girl is still alive!" Not long after,

he added, "The other one still has a breath!"

"Sustain their lives! I'll be right there!" Garrett shouted back. He accelerated the handling of the old man's injuries, footsteps hurried outside, and three more priests rushed in:

"Where are the injured? What do you need us to do?"

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