Inside Frost Glaive City, the medical room was filled with bitter cold.
Heavy armor lay piled in a corner, still coated in frost and stained with insect gore that had splattered across it during battle.
Duke Edmund sat bare-chested on the operating table. Old scars crisscrossed his chest, most seemingly inflicted by swords and axes, cutting deep into flesh and bone.
The newest wound ran across the lower edge of his breastbone, bruised black and blue, with something foreign seemingly writhing inside.
"Three Corpse Insects have already burrowed inside," the military physician said gravely. "You've contained them with your battle aura, but they're still moving, trying to reach your heart and lungs."
"Then dig them out." Edmund lowered his head and picked up a piece of rye bread from a nearby plate, his teeth crunching loudly against it.
His tone was as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Cut straight in. No anesthetic. Don't waste time."
"My lord... are you sure you won't wait for us to prepare a numbing agent? The wound is too deep. We're afraid you might..."
"I'm afraid you'll dawdle." He glanced at the hesitant physicians, his expression iron-hard. "Get on with it. I'm pressed for time."
The physicians exchanged looks and had no choice but to comply.
The moment the ice scalpel pierced his flesh, blood spurted out.
Amid the grating scrape of metal cutting, three writhing insect corpses were dug out bit by bit and immersed in a nearby bowl of salt ice and red zinc solution, giving off faint, sickening squeaks.
Edmund kept his head down and continued gnawing on his dark bread without so much as blinking, as though none of this had anything to do with him.
Only when the physician wasn't looking did he cough softly, bringing up