VR WARS Volume II - Coalition Army

VALIANT SAINTESS

With her work there done and her thoughts gathered once more on the task at hand, Mara left the wounded student and raced ahead, piercing through the smoke veil, unaware of the trench that laid beneath her feet. Her sudden fall into an enemy position would’ve ended her life if not for the fact that that particular position had already been cleared, and the only people there were her classmates pausing from the fighting.

“Christ, doc, don’t jump on people like that! We could have shot you.”

“S-sorry…I tripped,” Mara apologetically waved at the group. Almost immediately, she began scanning for anyone that might be injured, attempting to make up for her mistake by being useful to her unit when she was cut short by a handsome blond man. “No wounded here, doc,” one of the most desirable and popular men among the female population of the UAT, squad leader Carlos, alerted her. “But talk to me after we take out that gun emplacement. You’re more than welcome to join our attack…just stick to the rear.”

“R-right.”

“…Gisela, keep the doc safe,” noticing Mara’s apprehension, Carlos immediately assigned a bodyguard to her, a woman named Gisela and Mara’s long-time friend.

“Sure thing,” she replied with a confident grim before turning to face Mara. “I’ll go wherever you go.”

“…Uhum.”

Suffering from the contagious joy coming from Gisela was enough to appease Mara’s anxiety as both women moved to the rear and waited patiently for the assault to resume.

No less than twenty meters in front of them, the last active gun emplacement in that sector poured fire on the armored vehicles supporting the UAT’s assault. Having no one else in the vicinity but themselves, and seeing that they had already infiltrated the enemy’s defensive system when they took that trench, the job of neutralizing that threat fell to them. Feeling self-conscious, Mara nodded without saying a word, managing for a brief moment to completely block out all of her previous fears.

The group of five students armed with light weapons began slowly creeping along the trench that hid their approach. Passing along the broken bodies of IF students, some without a limb or two, Mara felt so nauseated she nearly passed out from witnessing the gory mess. All the while, Carlos’s squad showed no fear or hesitation as they threw grenade after grenade into unexplored corners and sections of the trench, moving as one and showering the IF students with lead. When at last they reached the entrenched anti-tank weapon.

“…We do the same thing, grenades first! Submachine guns second, rifleman third!”

““Oooh!””

As if rushing to end the fight that had already outlasted their expectations, one of the half-tracks supporting the 1st Company’s rampage broke ranks and joined the fray at the worst moment, initiating a fatal duel with the well-protected anti-tank emplacement. Its sudden arrival diverted the defenders' attention away from the contested trench lines as the half-track sprayed bullets all over the anti-tank position, attempting to take out its crew. But, instead of achieving the glory they so desired, the students inside the half-track were met with a high-velocity shell that pierced the engine and shattered its armor protection.

“s**t, take them out now!”

Staying behind cover, Mara and Gisela witnessed the entire action unfold as several explosions flattened the IF’s position before her “dream partner” led the charge into the fray by unleashing round after round into the remaining IF students drawing breath. When it was finally over, a strange but dominant silence howled in the air, bringing the so desired closure to that small engagement that had delayed the 1st Company’s advance by twenty minutes. Although they had prevailed in an even fight, even annihilating an entire company’s worth of IF students opposing them, the damage sustained was not something to be treated lightly; the flaming wreckage of one of their precious vehicles was solid proof of that.

Barely having the time to catch her breath, field medic Mara was once more called to salvage the situation. Almost running through the fallen enemies that covered the steppe, both women raced to the site of doom – the knocked-out half-track – in a desperate attempt to sprout roses from the ashes of disaster.

“…We pulled out three, but we still have two inside,” a man, the same height as Mara’s, warned her. His darkened face from smoke and grease told the tale of his extraordinary heroism in extracting the wounded from that fiery deathtrap.

Utilizing her triage skill in adjacent to her focus ability, Mara conducted an overview of the situation, quickly identifying the severity of the wounded they had extracted as well as the status of the two members still left unattended. Vital signs were still visible on the collapsed gunner, bleeding on the floor. In contrast, the driver was clearly beyond saving; his head had come off clean by the impact of the high velocity, ending his life instantly.

Disregarding the damage she would take from the flames to rescue the wounded man, Mara jumped into the encroaching fire without batting an eye. Though some students attempted to stop her from potentially committing suicide, their efforts in doing so proved futile when she slipped between their fingers before they could even reach her. A bravado display that merely reinforced the idea forever embedded in the eyes of everyone, that no matter when and where their savior would come for them. Mara’s ferocious determination to save every classmate in need, even at the cost of her own life, had gradually gained the hearts and minds of every one, along with the infamous alias of ‘Valiant Saintess,’ much to her contempt.

“Get back here, doc!”

“That thing can blow up anytime! Get out of there!”

“…Mara!”

Her classmates, along with Gisela’s shouts and warnings, were nothing more than background noise now that Mara could see the wounded man; nothing could stop her from fulfilling the pledges in her heart. At first glance, she could see wounds all over the paralyzed student who could not utter a word, not even to forfeit the battle. He’s stunned by the impact! She concluded without resorting to her ‘Triage’ skill, which meant that the man suffered from a paralytic debuff effect. And that was not all that was wrong with him; his condition was also afflicted by blood loss and fracture debuffs. A closer inspection revealed a significant wound in his thigh, below the knee, where most blood was coming out.

Shit, if the bone is shattered, we’re going to have to take his leg. Mara’s judgment proved to be correct once more as the Triage skill ascertained the probability of the wounded student surviving without removing his leg to be zero. Yet with the flames reaching them with each passing minute and the man’s HP level dropping steadily because of the festering wound, Mara’s only choice was to get him out of the burning wreck as quickly as possible and then attend to his decaying condition. But dragging the student was proving more challenging than she initially thought, and as the fire reached the ammunition left out in the open, several bullets began discharging and darting all over the inside of the vehicle; some penetrated the armor and spilled out from the wreck entirely. Seeing that, most students, not wanting to get hit by stray bullets, moved away from the half-tack, assuming their comrades to be dead, except for Gisela, who made good on her promise and followed her friend wherever she went.

“Mara, are you still alive?!”

The unbreathable fumes almost sooked out the sound of her friend’s voice while endless darkness from the burnt oil blinded their sights. Then, when Mara’s stamina bar approached near depletion, her focus system picked up Gisela’s cursor. Stretching out her hands into thin air in the hopes of fishing her friend out from the veil of pitch-black, Mara threw her arms from side to side, trying to clear the smoke. Unknown to her, Gisela was doing the same thing, yet their arms missed each other entirely, and instead, both women found each other locked in a sudden but welcoming embrace.

“…When you said you’d go wherever I go, I didn’t expect it to be literal.”

“Neither did I…you’re welcome.”

“Th-thanks… This guy is still alive; help me with him.”

“Always making me work, ha-ha.”

Just as the vehicle’s durability was about to reach its end, two dark silhouettes passed through the wall of flames and hit the ground hard.

“Holy s**t! Quick, give them some help,” the closest student called out to the rest, who moved quickly to retrieve Mara and the other student to a safer distance. A few seconds later, the half-track blew up into a great fire.

“Whoa…that was way too close!”

“…The-they’re alive!”

“You went above and beyond this time, doc.”

Entirely dismissing the congratulatory welcome her friends were throwing at her, the ‘Valiant Saintess’ of the 1st Company went to work, opening up her operations menu faster than her brain could initiate the command. Instantly, several options with different success rates opened to her eyes, each with duration and number of procedures, as well as the amount of medical supplies needed. Typically, the general rule for all medics was that they prioritized their medkits on those who could be saved and still function properly in the fight; people could lose an arm and still be battle-ready. The story for people who lost a leg or more than one member, in the worst case, was different, and it always gave the same results; death or resignation from the battle. As realistic as the battles were, the essence of its core functions assimilated that of a game, one closer to an MMORPG than other types. And like in every game, resources were limited. Ammunition, equipment, fuel, water, and medical supplies, all of which had a number and durability to them. Spending too much on a doomed student would mean depriving others of precious resources, and that was precisely the dilemma every field medic faced when they encountered someone badly hurt yet still drawing breath. To avoid burdening the medics with these encounters, the unspoken law was for any student wounded beyond recovery to deal with his condition in his own way. Most people in the UAT were self-conscious enough not to let their condition hinder others or jeopardize their objective, so the majority usually resigned with some rare exceptions, surprising the enemy and inflicting damage before succumbing to their fate.

However, Mara was stubborn.

Rejecting the rules that betrayed her convictions without care, she took a knee beside the broken man in preparation to do the unexpected and bring him back to the fight.

“There’s a good chance he can still regain half of his HP if I take off his leg, but….” I’m going to end up losing 30% of my medical supply. Her thoughts only enlighted her on the ambiguity of her assessment.

“…You can’t do it, doc,” someone at her side murmured, reaching the answer without the need to ask; Mara’s despairing expression said it all. “We’re still far from Kursk; people will get hurt and die…I’m sorry to say this to you, but we need every medkit we can get.”

“…I-I know…but I can’t!”

“Doc?!”

“…Ahh…here we go again….”

“Get the medkits from the dead over to me,” Mara began, barking orders as she had never done before “…Listen, call doc Diogo from the second platoon and tell him to get over here…one of you check his vitals with your menu. I also need help with taking out the leg!”

“…Screw it, let’s do this, doc.”

In a matter of minutes, whoever was left without a job found a new one, as every student in the vicinity scrambled to help out Mara in her operation. They did so out of their own accord; it was their wish to get the same treatment when they eventually found themselves in the same position. With the newly arrived Diogo, the medic reinforcement, the surgery went into full gear, and the rotten leg that kept the paralysis debuff active came off in the form of a sharp cut from a bayonet above the knee.

Just a bit more… “I need more bandages! Diogo, keep applying pressure there.”

“We need to close this wound fast!” her colleague warned her with bloody hands, trying to keep the wound clean so he could stitch it up. “He’s bleeding too much, plus there’s a high risk of infection debuff…I…can't see---”

If we can’t close it with stitches…Mara quickly followed her thoughts and turned to face the blazing vehicle. “…We use fire.”

“…? Will that work?”

“There will still be a risk of infection…but it’s worth a shot,” Mara hoped with some audible conviction. “Give him another shot of penicillin! I’ll heat up the blade.”

“If this doesn’t work, we’re done…we can’t spend any more medkits on this guy.”

“…Understood,” came a solemn reply. Then, as Mara’s metal-colored bayonet turned red from the heat, she approached the lying men and stuck the heated blade into the wound, cauterizing it. Tweaking a little more on the bits and ends of the man’s injuries, like removing a piece of shrapnel locked in his shoulder, Diogo, to spare Mara from overworking herself, took over and covered the wound with fresh bandages before analyzing the student’s condition once more.

This time, Mara sat nearby with a peaceful expression, reflecting on her work while taking a few sips of water from her canteen and swiping the sweat from her forehead. She made amends with herself, knowing that whichever condition the man was in, she had given her all.

“…”

“Well?”

“C’mon! Tell us something, doc!”

At this point, everyone started to circle the pair of medics, hoping for any news, since Diogo’s silence seemed to be too much for them to bear. Then, as if coming back to life, the wounded man’s back lifted from the ground; the petrifying curse weighing him down had, at last, been lifted. And much like the leaves of a fallen tree picked up by a gasp of wind, the wounded man came back to life.

“Damn! Congrats on coming back, man!” “Holy s**t, they actually did it!” “Awesome job, guys.”

Instantly, everyone poured into a roar of cheering for their recovered colleague and praises for the field medics' exhaustive work in getting him back to the fight.

“…T-thank you…” he said with tear-jerking eyes but a huge smile on him. “…Both of you…I-I thought…this was it, for me.”

“Welcome back,” Diogo patted him on the back with care so that the man wouldn't lose his balance. “Though if I had to say, Mara is the one who deserves all the praise…she fought like hell to get you back.”

“Don’t stress about it,” Mara, who until then had been silently resting, came forth to examine her patient one last time. “…’ Looks like your HP is steadily increasing. It should reach its allowed peak in about thirty minutes.”

“…Ye-yeah, it’s already at 30%,” he answered with a hint of despair in his voice as he opened up his menu window. While incredibly grateful, he was also concerned that he might be a detriment to his companions, which resulted in his silence. His expression revealed his thoughts all too well. Fighting those battles at full HP was already stressful and exhausting for most, but doing so while crippled was uncharted ground for him. However…

“Woah…you got that much with one leg?”

“It’s not that surprising, I remember losing an arm at Teutoborg, and my HP didn’t fall below 50%.”

“Humm, I suffered a blow to my backside in the first game…it paralyzed half my vertical body, but the other half worked fine…for a while.”

“Ooh, wow! That sets the record, hya-hya-hya!”

“…No kidding, I’d rather not get injured at all, to be honest….”

“i***t, that’s not up to you, now is it?”

“Ha-ha…I guess we’ve all been through something.”

….his colleagues paid no heed to that; most of them had already tasted a similar fate throughout the competition and still kept going. So, in essence, the general feeling they wanted to convey to their comrade was that if they could do it, so could he.

Feeling almost overwhelmed by the emotional support given to him, the man brushed his opened menu screen aside with the palm of his hand, then raised his chin high and gave everyone his most heartfelt thanks.

“Whatever dizziness you may still be feeling comes from the blood loss debuffs you received and the amount of penicillin and morphine we gave you. So keep away from trouble for a while.”

“Uh, ye-yeah…thanks again, doc…” the man nodded, then approached Mara to direct his gratitude solely to her in a more personal and formal manner. “For everything, thank you.”

The sincerity in his thanks almost stunned her. She had never encountered a person who conveyed his appreciation for her job like that, especially not when she had practically doomed him to more of a side role for the continuation of the battle. Yet, while Mara did do her best to save his life, the fact remained that, in her conscious, that man hadn’t been one of her prestigious works—far from that.

“S-sure,” was the only word she could muster; after all, in her mind, she knew perfectly well what would happen from here on out. Haaa, I’m sure he's going to hate me for it when the shooting starts…

But no matter what he or she thought at that time, war waited for no one. So Mara grabbed her backpack, stocked up on whatever medkits she could find on the fallen corpses of the IF and UAT, and mentally gathered her resolve for what lay ahead.