The mist was thick and the cold was bone-chilling. Heat rolled through the walls, the light source dimmed, and footsteps whispered from outside the iron walls. After a series of complex examinations, Jairziño Guzmán finally entered the interior of the medical hall.

He had finished his duty for the day two hours earlier, but that didn't mean he needed to rest.

Any Astarte would be able to keep their energy up for a long time with their zeal, not to mention that healing those who were still alive in Quintus was no different from rest for the medics.

Dealing with mortal illnesses is much easier than dealing with Astarte's war-wounded wounds, and sometimes it only takes a course or two of medicine to restore them to health.

In the past, Jairziño Guzmán used only his medical skills and compassion on his brothers.

In general, the Eighth Army thanked the former and despised the latter. So, if you're working as a medic or pharmacist in the Eighth Legion, I'd suggest you throw away any thoughts of being thanked after healing your patients.

Now it's different, healing many people in Quintus, and they show their gratitude by kneeling and touching the ground with their foreheads. Guzmán hated this way, but he couldn't refuse them.

How can he refuse the gratitude of others?

The civilians in Quintus would only express their gratitude in this way, and Guzmán did not like to bow down, but he would accept their gratitude. As for now, he only hopes that those extreme warriors can build public schools at a faster pace.

Pausing in front of the corpse shrouded in black cloth, Jairziño Guzmán bowed his head and paid his respects to the corpse. Two weeks have passed, and his duty time has even been transferred twice.

The hall was still empty except for him, which was normal, it was temporarily under martial law, and the brothers of the legion could enter it, but only one person at a time.

Guzmán and all the medical officers agreed with Conrad Coetze's announcement of the order, but they also brought up another matter.

"He needs a cemetery." Two hours ago, Medical Officer Mallan said this in their small conference room. "The medical hall looks like that, but we all know it just looks like it. Although we did visit him. ”

"The original body did not ask to bury him." Another retorted. "And I'm sure the instructor himself doesn't want to be buried in a coffin."

"You seem to know him very well." Mallan scoffed and retorted. "But we all know that he knocked you down when you walked into the cage, didn't we?"

This was the end of the conversation, and after that, it was a brawl - what the Legion would call 'the usual exchange of martial arts', but everyone knew what it was all about.

And if one of the parties to the brawl feels that this is not enough, he will continue to attack the other party by various means for the next seven days. Sometimes, this behavior can ripple over to other people as well.

That's why there are so many small medical rooms on the Nightfall.

Thinking about these things, Guzmán exhaled a puff of white mist, and he still kept his head down, as if in quiet contemplation.

But Guzmán wasn't really thinking, he was just distracting – something that the quiet environment always feels like.

Before he knew it, his perception was magnified, and the tiny details that had been overlooked in the past were now coming back, with his characteristic insect chirp in the corner of his eye. His thoughts sank deeper and deeper until he reached the other side.

until a door is opened.

Jairziño Guzmán entered into extreme silence.

Little by little, the mist shifted, becoming a thick white mist on the pitch-black metal floor, and the cold pierced through the protection of the scientific forces within the power armor, reaching his spine and stinging his bone marrow. His eyes began to sting, but he couldn't close them again.

He can try, whatever he wants, and it is useless to try.

A force from behind the door took control.

A lot of times, it's the coincidences that are the most interesting. Guzmán can no longer think, this right is denied, but he can still hear, he can still see, he can still feel.

The white fog was converging, there was no wind, and something — something ancient—was piercing through the icy fog and coming straight behind the door.

The temperature continued to drop, dead as ice, causing the mist above Guzmán's bare skin to condense and turn into fragile frost. His blood was also frozen, and the temperature was anything but unusual. I don't know how long it took for the chill to slowly subside.

Gradually, the ability to think returns, reviving within the body. Jaelziño Guzmán's eyes widened, and a tsunami of bombardment swirled through his mind.

He jerked his head up and saw that the corpse, shrouded in black cloth, had sat up.

Blue light flashed from its hollow eyes, black cloth had fallen over its body at some point, its jaws opened and closed, teeth clashing against each other, and a familiar voice reached Guzmán's ears with a monotonous clattering noise.

It was the voice of Carlil Lohals.

"Hello." He said. "Hope I didn't scare you, Jairziño."

To this, the medical officer's reply was a violent shaking.

——

"It's a terrible situation." Carlil said.

“.”

Conrad Coze glanced at his skull face under the hood without saying a word, then nodded, "yes, I can see that too." ”

"Are you sarcastic about me, Conrad?"

"Nope." Conrad Coetzes replied quickly and clearly. "I'm just curious why you've been lying there for two weeks."

"You want me to come back sooner?"

"Nope."

The skeleton nodded, and a strange wind came from the empty chest: "I also want to come back early, but the real world is not based on my will." It doesn't change by my will. ”

"You're talking to me with a skeleton that's still emitting heat." Conrad Coetzes said quietly.

"You should change the wording, this is my body that is recovering." Carlil lifted his hand and gave him a leg on his chin to avoid the continued clicking sound between opening and closing.

Anyway, he doesn't have a vocal organ now, and he can speak without opening his mouth, but he will get used to it a little bit.

".Restoring?" The Lord of the Eighth Legion covered his face. "I don't have vision problems because of the continuous processing of official documents, you are now a skeleton, how do you heal the wound?"

"That's not something you need to care about, Conrad." Skull said. "Studying my current physical condition won't do you any good sanity."

"Proper sanity?"

"People need to be sober." The skull looked at him quietly, the blue light in his eyes motionless, not like flames, but like ice.

"But don't be too sober. You've already seen one of those monsters, and that's not a good thing for you, so you need to be sober, but also throw a piece of sanity appropriately. ”

"Are you talking to me about riddles?"

Conrad Coetzes paused for a moment, lowered his hands, looked at the corpse defiantly, and spat out two words in a heavy voice in Enostramo.

"Father?"

“.”

This time it was the skeleton's turn to be silent.

"No, not a riddle." It was a moment before he spoke again. "Just a small exhortation, because those monsters in the dark will never give up."

"Then I'll be the one who hunts monsters." Conrad Coetzes replied coldly, his eyes narrowed and stared at the skeleton as if it were someone's. "Moreover, this is a blood feud, and we will take revenge."

"To whom do you take revenge?" Carlil asked.

"To turn you into someone or something."

"My revenge, I will avenge myself. And that thing, too, has already paid a heavy price. ”

Conrad Coetzes shook his head, clasped his hands, and sighed heavily.

"Look at what you look like now, Carlile, who is the one who pays the heavy price? You were lying in my room, covered in ashes and smoking. I will not lie to you, just as you have never lied to me, so I will admit it to you. I was almost crazy. ”

"But you didn't."

"Just a little bit! Don't say that to me in the tone you seem to be proud of! Conrad Coetzes roared, for the first time he had shown such a look. And you're only close to actually dying, aren't you?! ”

The skeleton was silent for a moment, and it took a long time for one of its will to speak again. Such silence would be devastating to a normal conversationor, but it would not apply to Conrad Coetzes. He had long been accustomed to the silence of Carlil Lohals.

"If you were to put your reason in my life and death, Conrad, I would be very disappointed." The skeleton said calmly. "There is always something more important in this world."

He stood up and left the room, the corners of his black robe fluttering. After a long time, Conrad Coetzes sighed slowly.

"It's always going to be like this." He spoke to someone outside the room. "Why are you always like this? Quietly make sacrifices, silently save people who don't know who you are."

There was a sigh from outside the room, the sound that shouldn't have pierced the walls, but it did, and reached the ears of the Lord of the Eighth Legion.

"Because I'm an arrogant fellow, Ghost." The voice hissed. "So arrogant that you can't even ignore them."

Midnight Ghost didn't answer.

Conrad Coetzes continued to work, pursing his lips and looking unhappy.

There is one more chapter

(End of chapter)