The reason Ronan got the impression of a "Field Hospital" was that the area before him had been divided into multiple compartments, each given rudimentary sterilization treatment. Platforms had been set up, with people lying on every one of them, hooked up to monitoring instruments and covered in tubes, their bodies stained with blood. No matter how he looked at it, they seemed to be undergoing surgery.
But before long, Ronan slightly revised that judgment. Even if these were surgeries, they were a very special kind—both the actual procedures and the tense conversations in every room, along with the thoughts rising and falling within them, made that clear. Most obviously, the consumables they used were basically implantable metal components, along with neural cords that had already been embedded or were about to be embedded.
Ronan was certain now. The primary function of this "Field Hospital" was probably a "human body modification factory," and the people currently on the operating tables were all subjects undergoing modification.
The environment was terrible, and the techniques did not seem particularly sophisticated. They had guts, though... only so much.
Because of the sudden upheaval, the operators in every compartment had basically lost their heads, like ants on a hot pan.
It had to be said that New Wildfire had chosen his timing well—and struck ruthlessly.
At a time like this, should they halt the modification surgeries and evacuate everyone, or grit their teeth and press on, racing against time?
It was difficult for an ordinary person to make the right judgment and shoulder that responsibility.
Fortunately, the Field Hospital currently had someone capable of doing so.
Ronan saw a man emerge from a relatively quiet compartment, bare to the waist, revealing a structure where what little flesh remained was interwoven with cold metal. His pace