Kang De's Battle Casualties

Is it in hell?

Private Karl was trapped in a terrifying nightmare.

Countless fragments flashed through my mind.

My mother's tears when I joined the army, the Speaker's speech before I went to war, and the clear faces of my comrades were etched deep in my mind, but then a hellish predicament followed.

Flame, explosions, swift winds.

Burn, tear, cut.

He only remembered charging madly amidst the deafening roar of thunder, crossing the scorched earth, dodging death again and again, and after his comrades fell one after another around him, he arrived alone before Kang De's army, shouting as he began his first and only battle.

Then, he saw blurry figures appear in his field of vision.

The man seemed to be holding something, and then several beams of light shot out, filling his vision with red. He felt no pain, only that he had fallen to the ground and was covered in mud. He stared blankly at the sky, images of his hometown flashing through his mind, and then—he knew nothing more.

In a state between sleep and wakefulness, he seemed to be in a lake, rising and falling, unsure of where he was.

When he regained consciousness, he almost screamed in terror.

But it was unable to make a sound.

He stared blankly, seeing only the strange lights on the ceiling.

It was a huge plate, with rings of light arranged in concentric circles.

His gaze was fixed downwards, his body unable to move. He only realized that he seemed to be lying somewhere, and in his field of vision, there was a circle of people standing. Each person was wearing a green robe, and their faces were mostly covered by masks, leaving only their eyes visible. Their expressions were solemn and focused.

He noticed that someone was holding a small, gleaming knife.

And others were watching him... or rather, a part of his body.

He vaguely heard the knife-wielder speaking, but it wasn't the Common Language he was familiar with; it was another language. Then, a voice without any intonation followed, filled with the clanging of metal—it was the Common Language, but he could barely understand a single word.

Those surrounding him, however, understood him, nodding in agreement or becoming even more focused.

An ominous feeling gathered in Karl's heart. He could hear a soft clicking sound and see the person holding the knife lower their hands and their shoulders tremble. He couldn't see the other person's hands or what they were holding, but from this body language, he was reminded of his mother cutting potatoes and meat in the kitchen.

He often saw his mother busy at work through the kitchen window, only able to see her upper body, her slightly trembling shoulders, and hear the chopping sounds of ingredients.

Just like now.

Ah, this man's green robe is stained with a lot of blood—if you saw him at a butcher's stall, he must be a butcher. If you saw him in a kitchen, he must be a cook.

So where is this place now...?

What am I doing lying in front of him?

For some reason, the somewhat confused hunter Karl was suddenly struck by a flash of inspiration.

The various knives, like evil demons, gleamed coldly under the flashing lights.

The man wielding the knife was covered in blood, seemingly making horrific cuts and dismemberments, while simultaneously speaking in a language he had never heard before, requiring another terrifying voice to translate it into a common language.

More people dressed like him stood around him, solemn as apprentices.

And he himself was surrounded by these people.

He was lying on a platform.

Bathed in the light of magnificent and mysterious magical artifacts.

This...

This is simply...

He thought of the four occult lessons he had received when he enlisted.

One of the lessons was about the dangers of various dark rituals and how to identify them.

He also thought of the theater troupe from the town, who was said to have come from the big city and had been sponsored and assigned by the Tower of All-Seeing to perform for the Council members. He was amazed by the grand and magnificent magic tricks on stage and couldn't forget the heroine's slender figure and beautiful face.

Of course, I was also deeply impressed by the villain's evil sacrificial ritual.

Everyone who saw the play was deeply impressed by it, and of course, they remembered the plot. They could not accept that the beautiful and kind heroine was eventually tied to the sacrificial altar by the evil fallen sorcerer to have her life drained and her soul sacrificed. Therefore, they were even more fearful and disgusted by the dark deeds of the fallen sorcerer and the evil spirits.

--After all, the expected happy ending for the male and female protagonists did not happen. People were fed a huge pile of shit, which naturally struck them like lightning and caused them great pain. As a result, they were even more indignant. Everyone strengthened their awareness and vigilance against the dark ritual, and Karl was no exception.

He still keeps a copy of the "One Hundred Questions About Evil Forces" propaganda booklet, which was distributed free of charge by the town's Legal Department.

The previous town mage attempted to collude with a local merchant to forcibly distribute the promotional brochures for a fee, hoping to make a fortune. After the plot was exposed, all the merchant's family members were convicted by Arcane hunters of being accomplices of a fallen mage and burned alive, including the children. The town mage was publicly executed, and he was forced to attend the ceremony, witnessing the usually high and mighty mage trapped in magical torture devices, groaning in agony and tortured beyond recognition.

It is said that the Arcane hunter lords would escort this convicted mage lord on a tour throughout the county, and the prisoner would not be allowed to die before reaching the last town.

Before the execution, the Arcane hunters once again announced to the people the legal basis for the execution and the sacred law of the state.

--One of the founding policies of the Arcane Council is to fight against any evil forces with unwavering determination. One of the important ways to achieve this is to raise public awareness and vigilance against corrupt forces. Anyone who dares to obstruct or hinder the advancement of this policy is an unforgivable sinner of the Arcane Council.

Thanks to these measures, even former civilians like Karl possess a profound awareness and vigilance towards evil forces. Although in a semi-conscious and confused state, upon discovering the hellish danger he found himself in, he immediately drew a conclusion.

We're doomed.

They were used as a sacrifice!

He didn't know where the strength came from, but he struggled with all his might. Then, excruciating pain returned to his mind, and his vision went black. But his limbs gradually regained sensation. In his half-dreaming, half-awake state, he heard screams. The evil men in green robes began to panic. He heard the sacrificer shouting.

It was still a language I couldn't understand.

But that voice, devoid of any emotional fluctuation and as sharp as the clash of metal, uttered words he couldn't understand—anesthesia, resistance, Mortal World, support... combined, they were words he couldn't comprehend.

He fainted again.

He didn't know the cause of this coma, but he was certain of one reason—before the shouts in his ears faded into the distance, he realized something.

A hand and a leg... he could no longer feel them.

The terrifying nightmare receded like the tide, and he let out a short scream as he opened his eyes.

The sun was shining brightly, streaming through the window above and onto the snow-white sheets.

Karl took a couple of deep breaths before his thoughts returned. He saw a flowing skirt flutter as a snow-white figure ran towards him, its clear, melodious voice like that of a lark echoing in his ears.

"Did you have another nightmare?" a pleasant female voice asked. "Are you alright?"

Karl looked down at the thick bandages wrapped around his right leg, then glanced at his bare left forearm, and said in a hoarse voice, "... It's nothing, thank you."

He looked up and glanced at the person in front of him.

She wore spotless white clothes, and her face below the eyes was covered by a white mask—all the non-wounded people here wore that thing, only revealing their eyes, so you couldn't see their faces, their emotions, or whether the expression behind the mask was indifference or disgust.

But she was different.

Karl knew the girl was smiling.

Because her clear, bright eyes often narrowed into crescent moons.

She wore long white stockings and snow-white shoes, her skirt swaying gently, like an elf. Her figure was incredibly pure, her bright eyes were incomparably beautiful, but those eyes and her updo hair alone were enough to evoke fantasies, making one involuntarily imagine the beauty beneath the veil.

She jogged over, and the wounded soldiers on either side of her stood at attention, while those on their beds in the distance craned their necks to look— Julie was an angel here. She changed dressings quickly and efficiently, her movements gentle and skillful, showing patience to everyone, yet she was usually lively and enthusiastic. She had easily won over the entire ward of wounded soldiers; everyone was willing to go through fire and water for her, even...

--Even if she was an enemy medic.

Yes, the enemy.

Miss Julie is a medical nurse recruited by the Dragon of Cathay to work for them.

At this moment, however, they are tending to and caring for these wounded soldiers of the Arcane Council.

--Don't misunderstand, Miss Julie wasn't captured by the Council and forced to provide medical services. If that were the case, all these wounded soldiers would be willing to pay any price to get her safely back to Distant Harbor. The truth is far more embarrassing; they are the prisoners.

He was wounded in battle and then taken prisoner.

Strangely, no one remembered being captured; most only recalled being bitten by a mosquito or being thrown around by a tremendous force before losing consciousness.

When I woke up again, I was in a hospital room. Everyone was lying in a row, and the wounds on my body were carefully bandaged with snow-white cloth that I had never seen before. The blanket covering me was soft, snow-white, and ridiculously expensive.

--People like Private Karl, who have memories that are unbearably heavy, are extremely rare.

He was captured by Kang De.

However, he received extremely proper treatment.

Having escaped death, they first wept, then were bewildered. Those who had lost limbs went mad and collapsed, but slowly resigned themselves to their fate. Time passed quickly, and no one knew the progress of the war. Everyone quieted down, focused on recovering from their injuries, and then they all fell in love with the nurses, but no one dared to confide in them.

After all, they were still prisoners of war.

Every day, the most frequent question was: what exactly did Kang De want to do?

The vast majority of them were just ordinary soldiers, and their injuries were quite serious. They were of little value and did not deserve such meticulous treatment and care. Not to mention, the cost of the bandages, sheets, and blankets that were soiled by them was more than their salaries or even their pensions could repay.

Not to mention the ice cream, cola, and other desserts and drinks that have recently been provided to the "model patients," whose exorbitant prices within the council's territory Council made these soldiers question their very existence.

Taking in wounded soldiers, treating prisoners of war, and doing his utmost to provide such expensive medical care and services to soldiers of ordinary origin— Kang De's incomprehensible acts of kindness seemed foolish and pedantic. Yet, the wounded soldiers, utterly bewildered, dared not utter a word of ridicule, or even harbor any resentment.

Firstly, one is obligated to pay for another's food; secondly...

The hellish battlefield and the brutal, bloody slaughter are etched into the souls of these people, leaving them with lingering fear to this day.

In recent days, the soldiers who had lost limbs often became frenzied, raging, weeping, and cursing. But even when vicious curses fell upon Griffin Williams, the soldiers dared not utter a single evil word against the Dragon of Cathay. They would rather believe that Kang De had some conspiracy or scheme than accept that the rumored Lord of the Distant Harbor was a kind-hearted fellow—what a joke!

Those who experienced that war all agree that the Dragon of Cathay was a pyromaniac, a bomb-wielding maniac, and a destructive madman who wanted nothing more than to set the whole world on fire and blow it away.

Having come to the conclusion that "Kang De definitely has some kind of conspiracy," coupled with the defeatist thought that "I can't possibly resist," the wounded gradually lay down. They began to accept medical treatment with a clear conscience and tried to enjoy the delicious food—after all, they would have to repay Kang De eventually.

Under the influence of this trend of thought, the ward gradually became harmonious. The wounded soldiers no longer tried to kill themselves, and no prisoners emphasized their backbone or passively resisted. Anyone who dared to treat the nurses roughly would be met with indifference and reprimands from the whole group. When troublemakers were looked at by Miss Julie's big, watery eyes filled with sadness, a sense of guilt would quickly fill their bodies, and they would soon soften up.

Wounded men often lack a sense of security and easily seek care and maternal love from figures like nurses. If the nurse is kind and gentle, this feeling often evolves into affection or even love. However, these feelings, born from trauma, pain, and helplessness, often end in sadness. After all, the nurse is just doing her job and acts that way with everyone; she doesn't have any special feelings for you.

--After all, you're not handsome, and it was embarrassing to call out to you like that back then.

The wounded soldiers quickly adapted to the unique "captured and recuperated" model. They had considered escaping, but having no idea where they were and finding the ice cream too delicious, they ultimately gave up.

He grew closer to the nurses, but it was mostly one-sided. Nevertheless, he enjoyed chatting with them, finding it a rare pleasure.

They heard that the ward was behaving well and that a broadcast system could be installed tomorrow—they were looking forward to it, unaware that the snare of the Dragon of Cathay had already been quietly laid.

Some people went straight to the point and asked, "Nurse, why did His Highness Kang De save us?"

"Because you are also pitiful."

A faint sadness flickered in Miss Julie's eyes as she softly relayed His Highness Kang De's words. "His Highness said that you were innocent and brave. You could have become legendary warriors, achieving feats that would be remembered for generations, but you were driven by cold-blooded and cruel politicians, wasting your lives meaninglessly."

"Those captured by the Distant Harbor Warband were all those who charged into our positions. You are all remarkable brave men. As long as you survive, you deserve a second chance."

These words evoked mixed feelings in the soldiers, many of whom recalled the eloquent words Griffin had previously uttered.

Kang De's words are equally beautiful, but here we have pristine white sheets and delicious food, gentle nurses and meticulous medical care—how can this be considered mere pretty talk?

Only wounded soldiers like Karl stared at the bare, mangled limbs, their hearts filled with unbearable sorrow.

No matter how advanced Kang De's medical technology was, it couldn't regrow their severed limbs. What use was a so-called second chance?

Some joked, "We were just fighting Kang De's soldiers, and now we're being treated so well after being captured. We have delicious desserts and gentle nurses. Even Kang De's own wounded soldiers wouldn't Council. If His Highness Kang De's soldiers saw how well we prisoners were being treated, they'd probably be unhappy."

No, that's not it.

The beautiful nurse became talkative and cheerful, chattering like a lark. The soldiers in the surrounding beds all sat up straight and listened attentively to her vivid descriptions.

"My wounded comrades all live in high-rise buildings; I've been there twice."

Her tone revealed longing and amazement. "I've been there twice, transiting through the Spacetime Nexus. It must be a divine kingdom, with wide roads, azure skies, and towering, spotless buildings. Some are dozens of stories high, with many floors dedicated to accommodating wounded comrades. Everyone can choose freely; if they want to be alone, they can stay in a room, or if they want to stay with familiar friends, there are also shared wards."

"My comrades have TV to watch, movies to watch, and games to play. They have a cook to prepare meals for them, and they use the best and most effective potions. They receive injury compensation, combat medals, and special military merit subsidies. Also, the environment there is really good. It's a huge place, like a palace, clean and tidy, much better than here. Outside it's all sand..."

The more she spoke, the more complicated everyone's feelings became, as if they had been toyed with by this scumbag, Kang De.

Although such differential treatment was to be expected, they still felt bitter, their feelings were complicated, even jealous, and they were also very curious about just how good the recovery environment was for the wounded soldiers in the Distant Harbor.

Before this, they thought that having a clean, large room like this, with nurses taking care of them and checking on them, providing delicious food and clean bedding, was already a very good treatment.

Miss Julie didn't say much.

Although the medical conditions for wounded soldiers in the Distant Harbor were vastly different from those for prisoners of war, she did not reveal the true difference in treatment—these prisoners and wounded soldiers did indeed have some value.

She knew that His Highness Kang De had assembled a field medical team and had received appropriate medical training, but clinical treatment required extensive practical support, which could not be imparted through mere theoretical knowledge.

Therefore, before performing surgery on a wounded soldier in a Distant Harbor, the medical team would conduct sufficient practice on five to ten other prisoners of war with similar injuries.

This was the first use for the prisoners.

The wounded prisoners were completely unaware of this; they were simply lost in thought and melancholy. After a moment, someone whispered, "People must have died at the Distant Harbor too..."

This wasn't a very appropriate remark, and the soldiers remained silent.

Among them, besides noobs like Karl who were easily defeated as soon as they showed their faces, there were also some strong fighters who had clashed with the soldiers from the Distant Harbor, and they knew how much force had been used back then.

That's beyond my knowledge.

Julie said softly, "His Highness Kang De will settle this matter with you."

Ah, that's the only way.

Looking at their neat bandages, the soldiers felt a pang of guilt at being treated so kindly after fighting against Distant Harbor. Although many people would be ungrateful and take advantage of others in such situations, it would be a different story if they had been bombarded by an army group's firepower beforehand.

But the fear and unease that Kang De had captured had already been completely dispelled from the very beginning.

They were now surprisingly calm—after being treated like this, what else was there to say?

Take whatever you want. If it goes too far, you might as well just die.

I just don't know if I'll ever be able to go home.

--But what these prisoners didn't know was that they were now infinitely far from their homeland. In this other dimension, far removed from the Mortal World, outside another solemn and sacred temple, soldiers in formal attire stood in formation, weapons raised high, with Kang De, clad in battle armor, standing at the very front.

"Fire a gun--"

Amidst the crisp sound of a gunshot, Kang De shouted.

"Salute to my comrades who are about to temporarily fall asleep in the stasis field!"

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PS1: This chapter will probably be nine to ten thousand words long... but it's too late, I'll write it tomorrow.