Chapter 3095 - 1031: War in the Mud and Filth

Chapter 3095: Chapter 1031: War in the Mud and Filth

"Ron... Ah, God, my hand hurts so much... Help me change the dressing."

The weak voice sounded amidst the echoes of rain battering the stone walls, causing Colonel Ron, who was focused on studying the map, to smirk.

He put away his map and tossed a few logs into the campfire before turning around to help the pallid Fraser up from the marching blanket.

The latter was in bad shape.

Even the slightest touch made Ron feel Fraser’s burning temperature, and based on his experience in the Maginot field hospital, he could deduce that Fraser had likely suffered a wound infection, or worse,

those damned Filthy Jackal People used the Evil God’s powers to contaminate his good brother.

But Colonel Ron couldn’t alleviate Fraser’s pain at the moment, so he retrieved the still one-third full bottle of alcohol from his psychic package, opened it, and let Fraser take a sip to help maintain his sanity.

This was a method Ron had learned from the Transia People. Despite the risk of worsening the injury, the firmness of one’s mind seemed to be more important than physical resilience when facing the chaos of spirit pollution.

"I must say, you’re in terrible shape now, you know? Fraser, you smell like a pile of Jackal People dung."

Ron joked as he replaced the bandages on Fraser’s seriously injured left arm:

"If the girls back home knew their dream lover had become like this, those sweet dreams would shatter."

"Shut up, just say less, my head’s killing me... In my unconscious hallucinations just now, I saw my grandmother waving to me; according to the superstitions of foreigners, that’s an ominous sign."

Fraser gasped, then let out a difficult laugh.

He tried hard to open his eyes, but everything he looked at seemed to be a severe illusion, even Ron was blurred into three figures. The blurry campfire was the only source of warmth he could still feel.

His head ached as if his skull and brain were separating, and a slight movement caused piercing pain.

Nausea and stomach spasms tormented him, and worse, large strange red patches spread from his neck down to his chest, a clear symptom of the filthy torment on his body.

If only there were a priest here, it wouldn’t matter which deity they worshipped, even if it was the Fury Vam, as long as there was a priest to help alleviate the pressure on Fraser.

Sadly, ever since the old faith collapsed, the spiritual territory of the Goldenrod People had been wasteland too long.

"Ugh... the smell..."

Colonel Ron unwrapped the bandage on Fraser’s injured left arm, almost gagging from the rancid odor. He held his breath and inspected Fraser’s arm, which had turned a strange purplish-black from finger to elbow while festering wounds and spreading pustules marred the flesh.

Yet, clearly, the wound hadn’t deteriorated this much when he last treated Fraser’s injuries. Damn it! The filthy jackal people’s sorcery was stealing the life of his good brother.

"No way! We have to amputate."

Ron gritted his teeth and told Fraser:

"I have a veteran medic among my mercenaries who interned at a field hospital with the Blood Covenant Knight Order before. He’s skilled. I know this is hard to accept, but I want you to survive, Fraser, you have to lose this arm."

"Do whatever, I’ve lost all feeling in it anyway."

Fraser spoke weakly whilst breathing heavily:

"If I hadn’t met you halfway, my brothers and I would have perished under the Jackal People attack. Those dogs have mastered even more dangerous powers. They mustn’t escape from these hills, nor enter the continent, or it will lead to greater disaster."

"I came here specifically to find you, this isn’t luck, you are brave for choosing to hold the line with just a thousand men for the Dwarf Marshal?"

Ron cursed:

"Using words from those foreigners, you’re used to living well, really think you’re the protagonist? If I hadn’t arrived in time...

Fuck!

I’ve sent so many brothers’ urns back home already; I do not want to send your urn to Scandbery Manor, your father would kill me."

"I simply had to be there, Ron, I’m not as brave as you say, the Merfolk’s storm trapped us, Jackal People attacked, right at my position, if I’d fled, then I and those behind me would surely die."

Fraser sighed and said:

"I didn’t mean to act the hero, you have to believe me, ugh, maybe I won’t make it, I..."

"Shut up!"

Ron stopped his good brother from speaking more negative words, then called for his mercenary medic in the rain shelter cave. The latter examined Brigadier General Fraser’s condition and gasped, this man who had interned under Pantsless Demon Afeng pulled Ron aside and said:

"Captain, the General’s injury isn’t simply a wound infection, I can amputate but can’t purify the filth within him; without removing that, his situation will only worsen, just like those disgusting Jackal People mutants we’ve killed before.

The current pollution is just the first step, soon he may grow things humans shouldn’t have."