It Hurts, It Hurts So Much, This Really Hurts
"... Damn it, Katya's balalaika broke. The operation was urgent, I don't know how it broke, but I have to fix it before I get yelled at... Was this how our ancestors fought against disasters five hundred years ago? The captain said that the hardships we've endured are nothing compared to what our ancestors went through..."
"... I can't stay here any longer. Those guys can see through the black, muddy substance and track my movements... I need to keep moving in the opposite direction and lure them away from the main force of the squad... Wish me luck, who else but me!"
"... I successfully entered the dark chamber. The enormous mechanical monster was still roaming outside, seemingly patiently waiting for me to escape, like a predator, treacherous and extremely vicious... My left leg was badly injured; it was hastily bandaged, very painful, and swollen. There might be an infection..."
"... There's another exit in the cave, but I'm not sure where it leads. The exit's structure is very fragile; without support, it could easily collapse under strong external forces... I've been discovered; someone's come. The visitor is... a swordsman dressed entirely in black? He, no, it...? It seems even the sturdy metal fence can't stop it; I knew it the moment I saw its appearance... I'm sorry, Katya."
What thoughts flashed through the young corporal's mind as that Shadowy Husk, gleaming sword tore through the metal fence and slathered in black mud as it approached Nikolay?
Perhaps it was Katarina, the older sister who had always taken care of him since childhood, who would scold him for being reckless and breaking his instruments, but would always silently clean up his messes, share half a scarf with him in the snow, and bandage his wounds after rigorous training.
Or perhaps it was the young sister in the House of the Hearth House of the Hearth, her timid eyes a small longing for him to return, still waiting for him to come back.
It's also possible that, in the end, the pain and high fever had clouded his mind, and even he himself couldn't distinguish what was appearing in his consciousness.
Despite knowing that the road ahead was a dead end, he still single-handedly led the entire beast tide towards himself, using his own body to hold back the terrifying monsters, carving out a crack for survival for the remaining comrades of the Ninth Company and for his sister whom he regarded as his dearest relative.
As a warrior of the Fatui, he upheld the will of the Tsaritsa and carried out the company's belief of "if not me, then who?" to the very end.
It's likely that he never regretted the choice he made.
Xingsu slowly closed the tattered notebook; the edges of the pages had long since softened from the dampness of the mine shaft. He gazed at the Shadowy Husk on the ground, now broken into several pieces and motionless, and muttered under his breath, "Good lad, there really isn't a single coward in the House of the Hearth."
He crouched down and quickly examined Nikolay's body. The boy wasn't tall, but he possessed the robust physique honed by years of military training.
The high fever burned him like a raging fire, his wounds festered and festered, the infection had already spread throughout his body, and he had long since fallen into a deep, hazy coma. His lips moved slightly, uttering fragmented and indistinct murmurs, the words broken and difficult to understand, only the words "home," "family," and "sister" could be barely heard from his throat.
Hearing those murmured words, Xingsu's expression darkened. He took out the simple medicine he carried with him, patiently cleaned away the festering pus from the wound, and hastily applied some emergency bandaging.
After doing all this, he bent down and carried Nikolay on his back. The boy's weight pressed against his shoulders, and his burning body temperature could be clearly felt even through the fabric. The cold wind from the dark mine tunnel blew in from the depths. Xingsu stepped back and walked over, speaking softly to the unconscious person on his back.
"Come on, child, the door to home is always open for you."
Yelan crossed her arms and leaned against the cold rock wall, her gaze falling on the weak Fatui soldier on Xingsu's back. She gently shook her head.
"His chances of surviving tonight are no more than 20%."
"..." Xingsu paused, not turning around, leaving only a silence.
"On the return journey, we'll have to traverse areas teeming with monsters; the bumpy ride will only worsen my injuries."
"The House of the Hearth will not abandon any child."
Ying watched Xingsu's resolute figure stride forward, then turned to look at Yelan, whose expression was complicated. Without saying a word, she gripped the Dull Blade in her hand and quickly walked to the front of the group.
"Sigh... I really should ask you for overtime pay." Yelan sighed helplessly as she watched the two figures disappear into the distance, picked up her longbow, and followed them.
"Nikolay... brother..."
Katarina collapsed to her knees, her trembling fingertips gently stroking the boy's burning cheeks. Nikolay was no longer able to utter a single murmur; his eyes were tightly closed, and only a faint, fleeting breath sustained his life.
The persistent high fever burned his body, his skin was horribly hot, his pale lips were cracked and white, completely devoid of color, and he was so fragile that he seemed as if he would dissipate at any moment.
"Katarina, I remember you still have fire and water, right?" Xingsu's calm voice seemed to be Katarina's only hope at this moment.
"Yes! I have it!" Katarina snapped back to reality, frantically rummaging through her bag for a brand-new, unopened bottle of kerosene, her hands trembling as she handed it over. "Xingsu... please, save him... please..."
Xingsu took the glass bottle, unscrewed the cap, and a strong, pungent smell instantly filled the air. He first pulled out a clean linen cloth and carefully placed it under Nikolay's legs.
The bandage that the boy had hastily applied was now soaked with pus and blood, sticking to the festering wound. Xingsu patiently peeled off the gauze little by little, revealing the hideous and horrifying wound beneath.
The wound on my left leg had long been severely inflamed and suppurating, with flesh turned outwards and dark, stagnant blood mixed with yellowish-white pus constantly oozing out. The rotting skin and flesh were slightly swollen and black, and the deep infection had already penetrated into the muscle tissue.
Xingsu quickly took off his outer garment and stuffed the fabric between Nikolay's teeth to prevent him from biting himself in pain.
"Two people, restrain his body and limbs."
Xingsu then took a deep breath and slowly poured the molten water onto the festering wound.
The next instant, excruciating pain swept over the unconscious Nikolay!
The intense heat and fire scorched his broken flesh and festering sores, like countless red-hot needles piercing his bones and blood, or like raging fire gnawing at his damaged muscles.
The boy, who was on the verge of death and breathing weakly, suddenly trembled violently. His back stiffened into a rigid arc, his fingers clenched tightly, and his thin, frail body trembled and spasmed uncontrollably.
But he was in a high fever and coma, unable to even scream. He could only squeeze out broken, hoarse, and extremely suppressed groans from deep in his throat. Fine, cold sweat instantly soaked through the stray hairs on his forehead and rolled down his pale jaw. His originally deathly pale face was forced to turn a sickly flush by the extreme pain.
Katarina knelt beside him, gritting her teeth and using all her strength to hold down her brother's trembling body, firmly fixing his struggling limbs to prevent him from tearing his wounds due to instinctive movements.
Her eyes were red and swirling with tears. Watching her brother suffer such torture, her heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly, and she trembled with pain all over.
But she knew this was the only way to save her life, so she could only bite her lip tightly, swallowing all her sobs and cries back down her throat, not daring to disturb Xingsu.
Xingsu's movements remained steady and efficient. He thoroughly cleaned every inch of the festering wound with flaming water, washing away all pus, blood, and filth to prevent the infection from spreading. Once the wound was completely clean, he took out new gauze and carefully bandaged it layer by layer.