A Hospital in Another World?

Garrett’s healing magic had earned him the respect of the barbarian elders. On the third day, wrapped in a large cloak and protected against the cold and heat, he sat atop Bernard’s mount, joining the barbarian hunting party for magical beasts.

Indeed, after discussions among the elders, chieftains, and oracles—a certain overlap in these roles—the venerable Elder Brock of the Laquila tribe formally informed Garrett:

The unclaimed spirits of the totems could be bound to him for use in healing support.

"Of course, this comes with conditions," said the elder with feathered headdress, leaning on a pale bone staff topped with a pair of glossy raptor talons, which rattled slightly with a shake:

"Foreigners who have taken spirits from us have always left generous gifts, sufficient for compensation. Young healer, what can you offer?"

Garrett: "…What do you need? Gold? Weapons? Magical equipment?"

Gold? He did indeed have a few hundred coins in his spatial bag, but it seemed that might not be enough;

Weapons? His oak staff was spiritually bonded and always with him, surgical tools were his treasured possessions, and nothing else really qualified as "weapons";

Magical equipment? He did have several pieces, such as the spoils of war from Andrew Lynn, which he had previously given him a pile of… but whether that was enough for a spirit was uncertain.

"To know, a totem spirit signifies a century of worship and sacrifice by a tribe," the elder continued with a smile, his feathered cloak rustling like an eagle spreading its wings across the sky. Garrett had reason to suspect that his cloak too was imbued with a spirit:

"A totem spirit means that a slightly talented youth can inherit its power to become a caster and protect the tribe for decades. Young healer, what can you offer?"

"I can’t provide a century of worship and sacrifice, nor can I protect a tribe for decades…" Garrett paused for a moment, then looked up directly at the elder:

"During the tribal gathering, I’m willing to do my best to treat the sick and injured. If someone seeks medical knowledge from me, I will teach them honestly according to their ability and understanding."

"That will do!" The elder beamed, extending his hand for a clap to seal the agreement:

"Of course, we are also willing to show some sincerity first—you are looking for mounts for your followers, aren’t you? There are some magical beasts kept by the tribe; you and your followers can go and choose one to your liking."

Oh! Garrett’s eyes lit up. A mount! Bernard was finally going to have a mount! He wouldn’t have to just run on his legs anymore!

Winter wolves!

Frost wolves!

Kodo beasts!

Giant rhinos!

Bernard, you’re not going to pick a boar, are you? A boar would be too lame!

The roar of the beasts thundered through the pens. Garrett had been marching forward eagerly, but soon found himself trailing behind Bernard, casting one defensive spell after another. Mage armor, up; shield spell, up; ranged protection, up; energy resistance, up…

Serrano shook her head at his precautions and hummed a tune from a distance. Instantly, all was silent—wolves howled, horses neighed, various grunts all muted. The night wind brought a faint stench.

Garrett then cast a bubble spell and hurried forward. Peering ahead, Bernard had already passed a black wolf and a giant silver wolf, shoulder height about one and a half meters. Now, he was standing in front of a well-fed wild boar, weighing perhaps over a ton, and after a moment’s thought, shook his head and moved on.

Garrett: "…Bernard, wait! Why not choose that silver wolf?"

How handsome a silver wolf would be!

And it’s capable in a fight!

And I can afford to feed it, a pig a day for it is no problem now!

Bernard paused, turned to look at Garrett, and hesitated before sighing:

"Boss… you can’t beat it…"

Eh, it doesn’t matter if I can’t beat it, you can. Besides, we have Serrano! Which magical beast would dare misbehave in front of Serrano?

Garrett looked hopefully at Bernard, then tiptoed to look back. A silver wolf, by its fur and build, should be a frost wolf, what a great mount! Fierce and handsome, with long fur, especially good for stroking!

"Boss…" Bernard looked at him helplessly:

"It’s too fierce. Tied at the entrance of your hospital, you can forget about patients coming in…"

"Uh…"

The silver dragon maiden snickered. Garrett drooped, silently following. Wild boar, no; giant horse, no; a strangely shaped, apparently flightless fat bird

, no…

Finally, Bernard stopped in front of a majestic white stag.

"Bernard, you want to ride this?"

Garrett strained on tiptoes to see. Good, this deer’s shoulder was higher than Bernard’s—that is, over two meters. Unsure whether it could kneel, Garrett saw only two options if he wanted to ride it:

One, climb up using a ladder; two, use a flying spell…

But Bernard could definitely jump onto it. And given the stag’s robust build, carrying Bernard—and even one more—wouldn’t be an issue.

The stag’s massive antlers spread to either side. Garrett stretched his arms out to gauge the span. It seemed, perhaps, his own arm span wasn’t even half the width of the stag’s antlers?

As he marveled quietly, Bernard had already spoken a few words with the guide and walked into the pen. As he walked, he spread his arms, palms forward, in a peaceful and friendly gesture.

The white stag stood quietly there, like a moonbeam. As Bernard approached and reached out to touch it, the stag sniffed twice, then suddenly butted forward.

Garrett: "…Hey!"

But Bernard was prepared. He stepped aside, grabbed each antler branch with his hands, slightly bowed his body, and exhaled loudly:

"Hey!"

The barbarian’s arm muscles bulged, determined to subdue the stag by force. Garrett stood back, hesitating whether to cast a strength spell—

Would it backfire?

During the taming process, would the mount refuse to submit if someone else helped?

"Don’t help him." Serrano pulled him back, whispering:

"Silvermoon deer are very proud, and they have a keen sense of magic. If you cast a buff spell, it’ll definitely feel it!"

Okay, okay… Garrett lowered his arms, standing dejectedly outside the pen, his hands molding a healing spell. If he wasn’t cheating, he’d intervene only if someone actually got hurt!

Bernard and the white stag struggled for a while until Bernard suddenly shouted and twisted the antlers to the side. The stag fell sideways, kicking out as Bernard quickly jumped away. As he moved to approach again, the stag shot out a bright orb of light, nearly hitting Bernard.

The man and stag tumbled and wrestled from morning until dusk, finally settling down. Bernard, dusty and disheveled, with his arm around the stag’s neck, brought it out of the pen to Garrett. The barbarian grinned broadly and laughed heartily:

"Boss, it’s done!"

"Mm, well done." Garrett cast two healing spells to treat the bruises on Bernard’s arms and legs, then looked up at the white stag. From up close, it looked even more formidable. Garrett tiptoed, stretched his arms, but still couldn’t reach its head…

The white stag also looked curiously at him. Its almond-shaped eyes were gentle and peaceful, none of the ferocity seen during the struggle with Bernard. Its nostrils flared, it lowered its head to gently sniff his palm, then licked it wetly.

From its posture to its gaze, it embodied the reputation of a "forest sprite." The only thing spoiling the image was its silky fur, now mottled black and muddy, rolled and tussled, a sorry sight…

"Hey, you need a bath!"

Garrett tiptoed to pat its forehead. The white stag snorted, gathering a moonlit glow, and pressed it against its scraped right front leg. Then it bowed deeper, and the next moment, the world spun—

The white stag had gripped his collar in its mouth, tossed its head back, and flung him. With a slap, Garrett landed sprawling on the deer’s back…

…He was wrong; aside from using a ladder or a flying spell, there were other ways to mount…

"Ah ah ah ah ah ah! Where are you going! Let go of me! I don’t want to swim! You’re dirty and I’m not! I don’t want to catch a cold in this cold water!... Help!!!"

In the end, Bernard’s new mount accepted Garrett in a rather unexpected way. Without the need for violence, and even without being there, Garrett could safely sit on the deer’s back, roaming around.

Of course, with the deer’s size, it could comfortably carry Garrett, Bernard, Serrano, Andrew Lynn, Aurora, and even Mr. Troka could lie on the antlers, and Andrew’s golden skeleton could hang from the antlers…

Garrett was very pleased, looking ahead at the antlers. Wide, flat, he had measured them earlier, nearly four meters across. While moving with the party, it could easily clear a path.

Of course, in the vast, sparsely populated wilderness, he could wander as he pleased. But once back in Nevis City, he’d likely have to take detours from the suburbs every day.

Garrett

let his imagination run wild, caressing the smooth fur on the deer’s neck. The antlers, with about a dozen branches, were not sharp, the tips almost tender—

A natural IV stand.

Hmm.

Such a silvermoon deer standing in the hospital lobby could accommodate a dozen lounge chairs underneath, hosting a dozen patients for infusions… Perfectly, this magical beast itself also possessed some healing abilities, almost substituting for a priest.

Perfect!

Garrett pulled out a handful of seeds, sprouted vines with green leaves, and offered them to the silvermoon deer. The white stag slightly turned its head, its long tongue rolling out, chomping down the leaves and vines, swallowing them whole. Then, pawing the ground, it snorted contentedly.

"Bernard, how much longer do we have to walk?"

"Not long now, boss! Just ahead is the Black Crow Forest. Through the Black Crow Forest, and we’ll be at our hunting grounds!"

Garrett, feeling safe and secure atop the deer, continued to explore the possibilities of their journey ahead.

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