"I remember he just got discharged yesterday, right?"
"I think so too... why is he back again?"
"Does this guy really have something wrong in the head? Or does he actually like it here, coming back so soon."
"Shh, quiet, we can’t discriminate against patients."
"But... does he really have that kind of thought, taking a fancy to one of us?"
"But didn’t he say he has a fiancée? Could it be..."
Palmer lay on the hospital bed, tightly closing his eyes, trying hard to fake sleep, ignoring the nurses’ whispered chatter, but he didn’t notice that he had already furrowed his brows, looking as if he was constipated.
Since being wheeled out of the operating room, Palmer had been under the peculiar stares of the nurses, as if in their eyes, he had become some sort of psychologically troubled pervert, willing to injure himself just to linger in the Border Sanatorium.
"I really don’t want this!"
Palmer was shouting internally, "Damn Bologue! Damn job! Damn life!"
It’s uncertain whether Palmer was lucky or unlucky.
After being engulfed by flesh, Palmer was bitten all over, becoming almost like a blood-soaked person, but despite such injuries, they turned out to be just superficial wounds.
Palmer looked miserable, but his critical organs hadn’t been attacked. After simple wound cleaning, he was out of danger. He just needed a few days of rest for his wounds to heal.
The nurses placed Palmer back in the ward, and the room quieted down. Palmer slowly opened his eyes.
With no one around, Palmer vented his anger.
"This job is really not for humans, today it’s King’s Shield Guard and Immortal Heart, who knows what it will be tomorrow!"
Palmer muttered to himself as he threw back the blanket and painfully sat up.
"I can’t take it anymore, I need to take some annual leave. If I continue this work, even if it doesn’t kill me, it’ll mess up my mind."
Unable to bear it any longer, Palmer, despite the excruciating pain, clumsily stood up, drew back the partition curtain, and prepared to leave the ward, only to see another person lying in the bed opposite.
This ward didn’t just have Palmer; even before him, another person had been brought in.
Palmer immediately realized something wasn’t right. The Order Bureau is a violent institution, but it still somewhat counts as a workplace, and it’s a big no-no in the workplace to complain about one’s company.
Swallowing nervously, Palmer looked at the other person, hoping that they weren’t someone he knew... and then he saw a person he could no longer just call familiar.
Palmer froze completely, staring at Lebius who was lying in the hospital bed.
At this moment, Lebius’ condition was even worse than Palmer’s, with most of his body wrapped in bandages and his right arm in a cast.
In the final attack on the Immortal Heart, Lebius had grabbed the Blade of the Iron-Cutting Sword, injecting Ether to activate it.
While the Iron-Cutting Sword sliced the Immortal Heart, it also almost shattered Lebius’ right arm. Thanks to the doctors who arrived in time, Lebius’ arm was preserved. Read complete version only at novel_fіre.net
His ear injuries, after treatment with Alchemy Potion, had restored part of his hearing. For Lebius, this little bit of hearing was enough to listen to his surroundings.
Lebius barely opened his eyes, already very exhausted, but he refused to sleep and forced himself to stay awake. He would only sleep after listening to the task report. He always had this workaholic demeanor.
"Write up the task report first." Lebius’ voice was light, his breath low.
Palmer felt his legs shaking, unsure if it was due to nerves or fear.
Palmer had always held great respect for Lebius, this warrior. Just sitting there without saying a word, Lebius could put tremendous pressure on Palmer, let alone the things Palmer just said.
Despite Lebius’ severe injuries, Palmer always felt that if Lebius wanted, he could strangle him with just one hand.
"Finish the report and hand it to me, then you can take your annual leave."
"An.. annua.. annual leave?"
Palmer was bewildered; he was ready to write a self-reflection, only for Lebius to suddenly approve him leave.
"Haven’t you been away from the Wind Source Highlands for a long time? It’s about time you went back."
Lebius seemed unaware of Palmer’s peculiar mental activities.
After thinking for a moment, Lebius added, "You did very well in this operation, I’ll report it to the Clarks, you don’t need to worry about getting scolded when you go back."
Palmer was stunned, and then his eyes moistened, nearly losing control of his emotions.
Palmer grabbed Lebius’ hand, overwhelmed with gratitude. Lebius, on the other hand, looked at Palmer with some bewilderment, not understanding what Palmer was doing.
At this moment, footsteps were heard outside the door. The door was opened, and a nurse pushed another patient into the ward.
They skillfully placed the patient in the bed, set up the IV, and hung the drip.
Someone noticed Palmer, who wasn’t lying on the bed but was instead gripping Lebius’ hand, looking as if he was about to cry with emotion.
The nurses whispered amongst themselves.
Palmer took a deep breath, trying to control his complicated emotions, telling himself that it was just others’ opinions and that there was no need to care about them, no need... no need...
Rubbing his eyes, Palmer always felt his professional life was absurdly strange.
He stumbled to the side, since the person on the bed was too familiar—it was Bologue. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady.
"He’s fine, just too tired, needs some rest."
Geoffrey came in with a crutch, his abdomen wrapped with layers of bandages, with some blood seeping through.
He sat on a nearby chair, his gaze wandering across the faces of those present, and then he let out a long breath.
Geoffrey said, "What a terrible morning."
"This can’t be described as just terrible."
Palmer returned to his bed with a deep sigh.
"I never thought... is this a post-work gathering for us? Just meeting at this damned place." Palmer mused aloud.
Looking at it now, all members capable of field missions from the Special Operations Group were there, everyone was injured, but they found a bit of joy in their shared misery.
Then Palmer noticed there seemed to be someone lingering outside the door, hesitant, not daring to come in.
"It’s okay, come in."
Geoffrey waved his hand, and after a few seconds, Aimou cautiously stepped inside.
As the initiator of the time-axis disorder, Aimou was full of fear towards Geoffrey and Lebius. At the end of the battle, she felt she would be imprisoned, but in reality, no one had come to take her away, and she strangely ended up following them to the Border Sanatorium.
Aimou nodded towards Lebius and Geoffrey and quietly moved to Bologue’s bedside.
A long-awaited peace descended, and even now Aimou felt a bit disoriented, as if she were still in the illusory dream constructed by the Fantasy Species.
But the fantasy was over, all branches of the future had been unified and connected into this absolute and singular reality.
Everyone in the ward was being healed by this tranquility. Even Palmer stopped his wild thoughts, tilting his head to look at the ceiling, killing time in a daze.
Unfortunately, this peace did not last long. Running sounds echoed from the corridor, and then another person opened the door and appeared before them.
Belli, panting, looked at Aimou. She had rushed all the way from the Sublimation Furnace Core to the Border Sanatorium, without any delay.
Aimou didn’t resist when she saw Belli. Without waiting for Belli to say anything, she smiled and opened her arms. In this time-axis disorder event, Belli hadn’t appeared on the front line, but her assistance was omnipresent.
Belli, unceremoniously, dove forward, and the two embraced each other.
"You’re alive!" Belli’s voice was filled with joy.
Aimou nodded vigorously, followed by Belli’s unrestrained, boisterous laughter echoing continuously.