Kenji

  The next morning, Kenji was finally able to enjoy a rare moment of rest. For the first time in days, there were no seriously injured patients waiting for his help, and the healers he had treated had returned to their duties, easing the weight on his shoulders. Feeling lighter, he decided to dedicate part of the day to something he had been putting off: finishing his notes on the classes and their peculiarities in people's bodies.

  Although the world looked medieval at first glance, there was an abundance of paper, which made his research easier. He noticed that classes were not just superficial abilities; they influenced metabolism, physical endurance, and even recovery from injuries. It was fascinating to see how a person's "stats" could shape not only their strength or speed, but also physiological aspects that in his home world would have been considered impossible.

  Once he had finished writing down another part of his theory, Kenji carefully put away his papers and headed to the cafeteria. The vegetable and meat soup, which had already become his favorite meal because it was simple and nutritious, was especially tasty that day. As he helped himself, he found a quiet place to sit, but was soon interrupted by Nunzio’s arrival.

  The frontline soldier, known for his massive war hammer and straightforward personality, sat down next to Kenji, setting the imposing hammer down on the ground with a soft thud. He was a burly man with scars scattered across his arms and a smile that belied his intimidating appearance.

  “Doctor,” Nunzio began, his voice deep and friendly, “I have good news. The enemy army has retreated. It seems that we are turning the tide. If things continue like this, we will soon be discharged, and each of us will be able to return to our normal lives.”

  Kenji looked up from his soup, giving a polite smile.

  —That's good, — he replied, trying to sound optimistic.

  But deep down, he knew those words didn’t apply to him. While Nunzio and the other soldiers had homes and families waiting for them, Kenji was a stranger in this world. He had nowhere to go, and no one to return to. This secret weighed heavily on his mind, but he knew there was no point in sharing something that no one would understand.

  Before the silence could stretch, Francesca entered the dining hall. The healer, who had been on the brink of death days before, looked much better. Her dark skin still bore some marks of burns and injuries, but her eyes shone with determination. She approached the table where Kenji and Nunzio were sitting, sitting next to the doctor.

  — Doctor Kenji, — Francesca said with a sincere smile, — I don't know if I've ever thanked you enough for saving my life.

  Kenji shook his head, brushing off the compliment.

  — No need to thank me again. I just did what was necessary.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Francesca continued, in the same animated tone:

  — Well, I have more good news. A shipment of potions is on its way. This should greatly ease the workload of the healers and allow us to focus on less urgent treatments.

  Kenji couldn't help but smile at the news.

  — That's excellent, Francesca. It's good to know that things are starting to get back to normal.

  The conversation flowed naturally between the three. Nunzio, with his expansive personality, told stories about recent battles, exaggerating the details of how he had taken down three enemies at once with his hammer. Francesca laughed at his exaggerations, while Kenji listened in silence, but with a slight smile on his face.

  For a brief moment, the doctor allowed himself to relax. He knew that the war was far from over, and that as a doctor he would always be on the front lines, caring for the wounded and facing the aftermath of battle. But in that moment, as he shared the table with Francesca and Nunzio, he felt less alone.

  Though his place in this world was still uncertain, Kenji was beginning to realize that perhaps he was already fulfilling an important purpose: saving lives and ensuring that, even in times of war, there was still hope for those around him.

  Fabrizio Baldo :

  In the shadows of the commander's tent, Fabrizio Baldo, known as the "Steel General", studied detailed maps of the region. Ink marks indicated the advances and retreats of the enemy forces, and there, with a firm expression, he assessed the possibilities. The recent movements of the opposing army indicated retreat, and the prospect of victory was finally beginning to appear on the horizon. But Baldo, a man experienced in battle and a cunning strategist, knew better than anyone that the battlefield was unpredictable.

  "I can't let my guard down yet. They might be retreating to trick us and attack even more viciously," he muttered to himself, as his eyes scanned every detail of the map.

  His thoughts briefly wandered to the dirty trick the enemy had dealt. The attack on the healers’ tents had been a cowardly but devastating move. If it hadn’t been for the healer Kenji and his unparalleled skill, there wouldn’t have been a single healer left to tell the tale. Kenji’s name had been spreading throughout the army, not as a warrior with weapons in hand, but as a savior who had sustained the soldiers’ morale and hopes.

  A soldier hurried into the tent, carrying a sealed letter. Fabrizio looked up from his papers and took the message, breaking the seal with a firm movement. As he read the contents, a small flame of relief shone in his tired eyes.

  —Finally, the shipment of healing potions has arrived. — His deep voice carried a tone of satisfaction, although controlled. He knew that this was another piece on the strategic board that needed to be used well.

  He turned to the soldier, ordering with the authority that only he could exude:

  — I want one batch of these potions delivered to the healers' tents immediately. They need to be ready to respond to any emergency. The other batch will be delivered to the doctor's tent. He is vital to our survival and deserves all the resources he can get.

  The soldier nodded with a quick movement and left the tent, leaving Fabrizio once again immersed in his thoughts. He looked at the maps once more, but now his mind was divided between strategic plans and the imminent threat of the enemy.

  "What will they do now?" Fabrizio thought, as he ran through possible scenarios. "Will they retreat for good, or are they planning a last desperate attack? Either way, we'll be ready."

  At that moment, the general's determination was clear. He knew that he was not only commanding an army, but also protecting the future of everyone under his command. And if necessary, he would fight to the last man to ensure victory.