A grenade detonated almost directly beside them, the alchemical explosive sending them both sprawling as shrapnel rained down, embedding itself throughout their bodies.
Lin Yu’s body throbbed with agony in numerous places, making it easy to imagine the depth of the embedded fragments. As for Yang Xi’s condition, the grenade seemed to have landed even closer to him, suggesting his injuries were likely far more severe.
She immediately moved to check on Yang Xi, but the moment she extended her hand, she was seized by a strange sensation: a warm flow trickling down her own arm, momentarily paralyzing her.
‘This seemed to be… blood?’
It was warm, gushing in steady pulses from beneath her clothing, then tracing a path down her inner lining. The flow was relentless, much like a ruptured pipe barely patched with a thin layer of plumber’s tape, utterly incapable of stemming the leak.
‘I… I’m injured?’
‘Yet, why don’t I feel much pain?’
Lin Yu pushed up the cuff of her loose military overcoat, her gaze quickly finding the source of the anomaly on her blood-soaked skin: a horrific metal shard deeply embedded in her forearm. The V-shaped groove of the fragment acted as a natural sluice, allowing her precious blood to gush out as if a floodgate had been opened.
A ruptured ulnar artery.
She had witnessed such injuries countless times and knew precisely how to manage them.
Quickly murmuring an incantation, Lin Yu used her uninjured left hand to guide a magic circle, green mist wafting from her palm, poised to envelop her wound.
‘Wait.’
‘Is this bleeding far too excessive? How can a single ruptured artery gush out so much blood? Does my small frame even possess this much blood to lose?’
She looked down again, and the answer quickly became apparent: the excess blood belonged entirely to Yang Xi.
Yang Xi, having been closer to the grenade’s detonation point than Lin Yu, had predictably sustained far graver injuries. A mere glance revealed his chest utterly drenched in blood, his face marred by several gashes from the shrapnel.
If she were to open his tunic, she would likely discover complex conditions like pneumothorax and internal hemorrhaging—injuries notoriously difficult even on an operating table. In this brutal field environment, saving him would be nearly impossible… No, it would almost certainly be a death sentence.
Lin Yu made a swift decision, pressing the entirety of her healing spell onto Yang Xi’s chest, allowing the mist to seep through the fabric’s gaps, searching along his skin for any ruptures to mend.
Meanwhile, she multitasked, quickly removing her steel helmet and untying her hair band to use as a tourniquet, tightly binding it around the base of her arm with one hand.
Lin Yu’s own injuries were minor enough to be managed with conventional methods; her precious healing magic had to be reserved for Yang Xi’s uncontrollable hemorrhage.
“Yang Xi! Wake up! You’re alive! I’m going to stop the bleeding now!”
Her second healing spell enveloped his chest, a portion drifting towards his face to stem the bleeding there, while the rest continued to penetrate his chest, delving deep within his skin to repair his pleura.
Undoubtedly, Yang Xi had already developed a pneumothorax; the rupture had to be sealed immediately to prevent its progression.
“You…” The man in the pool of blood struggled to open his eyes, green light reflecting in his dark pupils as he whispered weakly, like a dying man, “How… how is this magic…”
“Don’t talk about that! Conserve your strength! I won’t let you die before me! Never!”
The young medic’s cries spread through the trench like spilled blood, gradually diffusing into the surroundings, reaching the ears of the approaching Lanforthian military police.
[A woman?]
[Forget whether she’s a woman or not; the acting commander’s direct order is to seize the detonator!]
Another squad of over a dozen Lanforthian military police closed in on the trench where the two were hiding, their rifles fitted with bayonets, safeties disengaged, and magazines fully loaded.
“Don’t heal me first… take the gun…”
“What nonsense are you spouting! I don’t have any blood plasma! If you keep bleeding like this, you’ll go into shock and die! Then I won’t be able to save you!”
The girl’s shouts were verging on desperate cries; two consecutive healing spells had failed to staunch the bleeding, allowing the tension and fear in her heart to overwhelm her reason.
‘He’s going to die, and I can’t seem to save him. What do I do… what do I do, what do I do!’
“Quickly, take the gun—”
The dying man let out a final roar of fury, thrusting his rifle into Lin Yu’s hand, which was still in the process of casting her third healing spell.
‘I—’
She was shot.
A dull ache, like being struck by a heavy hammer, erupted in her shoulder; her entire body felt as though it had been dealt a crushing blow, and her left hand instantly went numb.
Yang Xi must have seen the enemy approaching from behind Lin Yu, which was why he had desperately told her to ignore him and take up the gun to fight back. However, she had failed to grasp the deeper meaning of his words, blindly focusing on healing him while crouched before him, and thus was shot by the enemy who reached out.
The bullet tore through her body at the collarbone, carrying away a large chunk of flesh and leaving a gruesome wound. The force of the impact knocked her down, sending her sprawling face-down on the ground, lying side-by-side with Yang Xi.
The magic constructing her third healing spell, abruptly interrupted, retreated back into her body from her arm, causing waves of itching and stinging as it flowed past her wound.
Such minor discomfort was no longer her primary concern; her focus had to be on the Lanforthian military police closing in from behind.
Their rifles, with a feeding mechanism similar to a double-action revolver, boasted a rate of fire nearly fifty percent faster than the ‘Type 40 Magic Rifles’ commonly issued by Diacla.
This fifty percent increase in firing speed was critically important in the close-quarters combat of trench warfare.
What’s more, Lanforthian rifles utilized a six-round cylinder, one more round than Diacla’s five-round capacity.
While a unique loading method allowed the Type 40 Magic Rifle to also accommodate six rounds, performing such an operation was incredibly difficult in the urgency of a battlefield. A single misstep could crush one’s fingers, thereby impairing combat effectiveness—a consequence more fatal than simply firing one less shot.
The oppressive force of the Lanforthian military police was undeniable. On her side, Yang Xi lay on the ground, clinging to half a life, while her left arm was ruined, leaving her with only her right. How could she possibly act to survive the enemy’s assault?
Propping herself up with her right hand, Lin Yu glanced past Yang Xi, only to see several figures in saucer-shaped helmets approaching from that direction as well.
‘Well, this is it. It’s completely over. One rifle can’t cover two directions, and I only have my right hand free. Am I supposed to single-handedly wield a rifle to fend off enemies attacking from both front and rear?’
She wasn’t some action hero capable of reloading a lever-action rifle with a flourish; she couldn’t even properly lift and aim a rifle with one hand.
These old-fashioned rifles had long barrels and no proper grip beneath the receiver. To hold and aim such a weapon with one hand would be a ‘poet’s grip’ (TL Note: A humorous or sarcastic term for an impractical or awkward way of holding a rifle, often implying it’s only suitable for posing, not actual combat.), an impossible feat.
Mentally, Lin Yu meticulously rationalized the inevitability of her helplessness, even as she reached for the blood and water-soaked first-aid kit at Yang Xi’s waist.
Inside, she found a roll of once-white bandage, which she pulled out and held in her hand.
[I surren—]
Before she could finish her sentence, Lin Yu’s head was struck by a rifle butt. Without the steel helmet to cushion the blow, it hit her directly on the side of her face, exploding like a bomb against her skin.
‘Easy there, I’m a girl! Don’t you feel any remorse for hitting so hard…?’
[Die, demon!]
[Didn’t she say she surrendered? The officer said we only need the detonator…]
[I didn’t hear her say that.]
‘That’s… that’s a very ominous statement.’
Clutching the bandage, now half-stained red, Lin Yu lay on her side beside Yang Xi, having distinctly heard the words of the Lanforthian military police behind her.
She also felt the cold, distinct shape of a rifle muzzle pressed against her back.
Yang Xi still drew faint breaths, so, she supposed, she would die before him.
‘No, it seems I’m dying right in front of him.’
‘Oh, why did I ever follow him here in the first place? Why didn’t I threaten to die to stop him from joining this wretched mission…’
She had been on the brink of death so many times that even her life’s ‘flashbacks’ had become a low-resolution version, presenting only fragmented memories of her time with Yang Xi.
Healing him in the tent, listening to his testimony in court, bringing him meals under the moonlight, finding him dozing with his head bowed in the trench.
Secretly calling him an idiot, slamming his steel helmet down, getting angry and frustrated with him, uttering countless words of ‘hating iron for not becoming steel’ (TL Note: A Chinese idiom meaning to be disappointed in someone for not living up to their potential).
It all came flooding back.
Her life, from beginning to end, had been inextricably linked to his. Dying before him, then, could perhaps be considered a fitting end.
She had always declared that dying in a trench was the most meaningless way to perish in this era, yet she had still… chosen this very path.
Before the Lanforthians could fire, Lin Yu reached out to Yang Xi, gently brushing his lips, which were now bubbling with bloody foam.
It must have been a delusion, yet she distinctly felt a surge of magic emanating from him, attempting to penetrate her fingers.
“Goodbye, you idiot.”
‘Would the final smile blooming in her life appear exquisitely poignant?’
Yang Xi’s eyes were half-closed; she couldn’t see the reflection of her own face, nor did she know what expression she wore in that final moment.