The heavy footsteps of the Abyssal Vanguard armor echoed softly as Lysander stepped out of the bright sunlight and into the cool, damp shadows of the cave.
It was a spacious, natural cavern hidden beneath the roots of a giant oak tree, insulated from the winds of the plains. Inside, the massive Centaur-kin lay exactly where he had left her. Her towering, muscular frame took up almost half the available floor space. Her breathing was shallow, and a cold sweat coated her sun-bronzed skin.
Lysander stood over her, his red, glowing eyes analyzing the situation.
"System, display my current balance,"
Lysander commanded internally.
Ding!
[Current Balance: 1,200 SP]
Lysander stared at the glowing blue
numbers floating in his vision, and a sudden realization hit him. He blinked behind his iron mask.
"Wait a minute," he muttered, his deep, mechanically altered voice echoing slightly in the cave. "The Velkora Fruit—the 'Dragon-Blood Fruit' that heals injuries—only costs 10 SP in the shop. Before I killed those slavers, I had 200 SP left over from buying this armor"
He crossed his heavy, gauntleted arms, feeling a brief flash of annoyance at his own oversight.
"I could have just bought the fruit, healed her, and then gone back to blow their heads off. I didn't need the mission reward to save her." He sighed, shaking his head. "Ah, well. What is done is done. Killing that trash was necessary regardless. Let's fix her up now"
He mentally navigated to the System Shop, preparing to purchase the Velkora Fruit.
Ding!
[SYSTEM WARNING]
[Master, the purchase of the [Velkora Fruit] is not recommended at this time]
Lysander paused. "Why not? It's the cheapest, most effective healing item I have access to"
[The Velkora Fruit is a raw, solid consumable. Its healing properties are only activated through the biological process of mastication and digestion. The target is currently deeply unconscious. She cannot chew or swallow. If you attempt to force-feed her a solid fruit, there is a 94% probability she will choke to death on the pulp]
Lysander looked down at the unconscious Titaness. The system was entirely correct. Shoving a spicy, iron-tasting fruit down the throat of a passed-out woman was an incredibly stupid idea.
"You are right, System. That would be completely useless," Lysander agreed, canceling the purchase. "I can't use consumables until she wakes up. Run a full physiological scan. How bad is her current condition? Is she dying?"
A beam of pale blue light projected from the eyes of Lysander's mask, sweeping over the Centaur's massive body from her human head down to her heavy, feathered hooves.
Ding!
[DIAGNOSTIC SCAN COMPLETE]
[Target: Equus Giganteu (Female)]
[Vitals: Stable, but severely weakened]
[Internal Damage: None detected. Severe exhaustion, dehydration, and prolonged malnutrition are present Deep, localized lacerations on the human wrists and the equine waist linemProlonged friction and compression from Heavy Iron Chains. The wounds are actively bleeding and carry a high risk of bacterial infection if left untreated]
Lysander stepped closer, inspecting her wrists. The System was right. Where he had shot off the heavy iron manacles, the skin was rubbed completely raw. Deep, bloody grooves were carved into her flesh, a grim testament to how tightly she had been bound. The same brutal injuries wrapped entirely around the thick waist of her horse-half, where the heavy chain belt had dug into her coat.
"She's bleeding out slowly," Lysander noted.
"If I don't stop the bleeding and clean this up, she'll get a fever and die in her sleep"
He didn't need magic or expensive fruits for this. He had the perfect tool.
"System, open inventory. Retrieve the basic first aid kit"
A flash of white light illuminated the cave, and a sleek, rectangular white box materialized in Lysander's hand. It bore a bright red cross on the top—an item completely alien to this fantasy world of swords and magic.
Lysander set the box on a flat stone. He looked at his massive, clawed gauntlets made of Abyssal Steel. They were built for crushing skulls, not for delicate medical work.
"Retract gauntlets," he ordered his armor.
With a soft mechanical hiss, the heavy metal plates folded backward, sliding up his forearms and locking into place, revealing his own hands beneath.
He popped the latches on the First Aid Kit. Inside were rows of perfectly sterile, modern medical supplies: thick rolls of cotton bandages, surgical tape, a bottle of potent antiseptic solution, hemostatic (blood-clotting) powder, and a tube of rapid-healing burn salve.
Lysander knelt on the damp cave floor beside her. He started with her human half.
He took a pad of sterile gauze and soaked it in the clear antiseptic solution. Gently, he lifted her right arm. She was incredibly heavy, her muscles dense as oak, but he managed to prop her wrist up. He pressed the soaked gauze into the bloody, raw indentation.
The Centaur hissed in her sleep, her face twisting in pain as the alcohol burned the wound, but she didn't wake.
"Stay still," Lysander muttered softly, though she couldn't hear him.
He carefully wiped away the dried blood and dirt, exposing the clean wound. He then grabbed the small vial of hemostatic powder and sprinkled a generous amount over the torn flesh. The powder reacted instantly with the blood, forming an artificial, protective scab that stopped the bleeding completely. Finally, he took a roll of white bandage and wrapped it tightly around her wrist, securing it with medical tape. He repeated the exact same meticulous process on her left wrist.
Next came the difficult part. The massive, chafed wound wrapped all the way around her equine waist, where the human torso met the horse body.
Lysander had to stand up and walk around her massive flank. The iron chain had worn away the black fur completely, leaving a wide ring of raw, weeping skin.
He poured the antiseptic directly onto a large sheet of cotton and began scrubbing the area. Because of her sheer size, it took him several minutes just to clean the dirt and grime out of the wound. Every time he pressed down, her thick tail swished nervously in her sleep, and her powerful back legs twitched, threatening to kick him across the cave.
Once the area was sterilized, he applied a thick layer of the rapid-healing salve from the kit, rubbing it gently into the damaged tissue. The salve had a cooling effect, and Lysander noticed her ragged breathing immediately begin to slow down and deepen. The pain was fading.
To bandage a wound this large, a normal roll wouldn't work. He had to use the widest trauma bandages in the kit. He leaned over her broad, muscular back, feeding the bandage underneath her stomach, pulling it tight, and wrapping it over her waist over and over again until the entire wound was bound in clean, white fabric.
Snip.
Lysander cut the final piece of tape and secured the heavy bandages.
He took a step back, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. The majestic Centaur was now properly bandaged. Her wrists were secured in pristine white cotton, and a thick white belt of medical gauze wrapped around her midsection, starkly contrasting with her dark, sun-kissed skin and midnight-black coat.
The bleeding had completely stopped. Her vitals, according to his System interface, were slowly stabilizing.
Lysander packed the remaining supplies back into the white box and tossed it back into his spatial inventory.
"Deploy gauntlets," he commanded.
The heavy Abyssal Steel slid back over his hands, locking into place with a sharp clank. He walked over to the cave entrance, leaning his heavy armored shoulder against the cold stone wall. He crossed his arms, the red eyes of his mask glowing faintly in the dim light as he looked out over the grassy plains.
He had done everything he could. Now, there was nothing left to do but wait for the giant to wake up.
The heavy silence of the cave was broken by a sharp gasp.
The Centaur-kin amber eyes snapped open. She flinched instinctively, expecting the blinding glare of the sun, the cracking of a whip, and the crude laughter of the human slavers.
Instead, she saw the quiet, damp stone ceiling of a dimly lit cavern. The air smelled of earth and moss, not blood and livestock.
'Where am I?' she thought, her mind racing. 'The humans had me locked in a cage. They were dragging me to the Capital to be sold as a breeding'
She braced her body, expecting the biting, familiar agony of the heavy iron chains that had been grinding against her skin for weeks.
But the pain didn't come.
She blinked in confusion and slowly looked down at her massive arms. The rusted iron manacles were gone. In their place were pristine, white wrappings that smelled faintly of a sharp, clean medicine. She twisted her upper body to look at her equine waist—the heavy, torturous chain belt had been completely removed. The raw, bleeding flesh was now covered in layers of soft, clean bandages. The burning agony had vanished, replaced by a soothing, cool sensation.