Bound To The Ruthless Lycan

Chapter 17 : The Field Medic's Disguise

"Hold the wound down! Don't let him thrash or swallow his own tongue!"

The shouts of the Chief Medic shattered the violent jolting of the medical wagon as it sped along the rocky path toward the western front. A scout warrior lay atop a patch worked pile of straw, his body convulsing violently. A black tipped arrow was embedded deep in his right thigh, while white foam bubbled from the corners of his turning-blue lips.

"The poison is spreading too fast, Doctor!" exclaimed the medical assistant, his hands trembling as he pinned down the soldier's chest. "His heart rate is slowing down. His wolf nerves are completely paralyzed. We're going to lose him in minutes!"

"Step aside and let me cut off the flow," a calm, steady female voice interjected over the chaos inside the wagon.

The Chief Medic turned irritably toward the dark rear corner of the wagon. A young medic in a heavy hooded cloak stepped forward. A cloth mask tightly covered her lower face, leaving only her eyes visible—sharp, cold, and intensely focused.

"Who are you? Don't interrupt our work!" snapped the Chief Medic, his face sour with annoyance. "This is an elite warrior! This is no place for an apprentice medic to play around!"

"This soldier was hit with borderland black sap venom extract," the woman answered, ignoring the medic's outburst. Her voice was unyielding. "If you pull that arrow out right now without neutralizing the toxin, the surrounding poison will be sucked straight into his primary blood vessels and stop his heart instantly."

Reaching into a leather pouch at her waist, she pulled out a small glass vial of brownish clear liquid and a razor sharp miniature scalpel.

"What are you going to do to the wound?" the assistant medic asked, panic in his voice.

"Save his life," the woman replied curtly.

With calm, practiced hands, she made a precise, shallow incision around the arrow's entry point. She dripped five drops of the brownish liquid directly over the open wound. Instantly, the coagulated black blood inside reacted, frothing slightly as it trickled out onto the straw. The soldier's violent convulsions halted abruptly. The foam around his lips receded, and his ragged breaths smoothed into a steady rhythm.

The Chief Medic gaped in disbelief. "How could you neutralize black sap venom with just five drops of that liquid? Where did you learn such a technique? Who on earth are you?"

The woman withdrew her hand and straightened her thick hood. "Just focus on stitching his wound. Clean out the remaining black blood before this wagon stops."

Two hours later, the entire convoy of war wagons halted at the Western Line Military Camp staging point. Dozens of emergency tents were pitched quickly beneath the shelter of a dark, cold hillside. A strong night wind blew through, carrying the scent of damp earth.

Damon strode purposefully toward the main medical tent, his war cloak billowing behind him. The King's face was etched with tension and explosive rage fueled by the impending battle.

"Where is the scout who was struck by the poisoned arrow on the road?" Damon demanded loudly the moment he parted the tent flaps and stepped inside.

The Chief Medic bowed immediately, his body trembling slightly. "The soldier survived and is currently resting, Your Majesty. The vicious toxin in his body was neutralized before it could damage the blood vessels around his heart."

Damon breathed a brief sigh of relief, though his brow furrowed in confusion. "You managed to neutralize borderland black sap venom? As far as I know, we didn't bring any antidote supplies from the castle."

"It was not my doing, Your Majesty," the Chief Medic admitted hesitantly, glancing anxiously toward the corner of the tent. "A new field medic boarded medical wagon number three. She possesses a bizarre yet extraordinarily effective knowledge of medicinal plants."

"Where is this person now?" Damon pressed, his eyes narrowing sharply.

The Chief Medic pointed toward a corner of the tent where a heavily hooded medic stood with her back to them, busy shifting crates of bandages.

Damon marched up to the figure. A sudden surge of suspicion flared in his chest as he noted the medic's petite posture and strikingly familiar movements.

"You," Damon called out coldly. "Stand up and turn around right now."

The medic froze for a moment. Her hands holding the wooden crate stilled, but she did not turn around to face Damon immediately.

"That is a command from your King. Stand up and turn around!" Damon growled in a heavy, commanding tone.

The medic finally took a deep breath. Slowly standing up, she turned to face Damon. Her slender hands reached up, pulling back the thick hood and lowering the face mask that concealed her identity.

Damon's expression shifted drastically from suspicion to utter shock. His eyes widened.

"Sera?!" Damon roared, his voice echoing loudly throughout the medical tent.

The medics and wounded soldiers in the tent gasped in surprise, bowing their heads low as they realized their prospective Luna was standing in this place of mud and blood.

Damon instantly gripped Sera's wrist tightly, dragging her out of the medical tent without paying any mind to the staring onlookers. He led Sera to a secluded area behind a stone wall along the hillside, shrouded in night shadows.

"What is the meaning of this, Sera?!" Damon barked the moment they stood face to face. His tone was a volatile storm of rage, anxiety, and sheer disbelief. "What are you doing here?! I gave you explicit orders to stay in the safety of your room at the castle!"

Sera yanked her hand back, breaking Damon's grip on her wrist. Her eyes locked onto Damon's without a single shred of fear.

"I could not sit idly by in a room, waiting to hear whether you returned victorious or came back as a corpse!" Sera countered, her voice ringing with equal passion.

"I didn't tell you to tail me, Sera!" Damon bellowed, his chest heaving rapidly.

Sera took a step forward, pressing her palm against her chest, looking straight into Damon's bloodshot eyes.

"I am not tailing you, Damon. I am claiming my destiny."

Damon clenched his fists tightly at his sides. "This isn't a training arena in the castle! This is a real battlefield! Valerius has two thousand bloodthirsty mercenaries! A single arrow or one swipe of a blade could take your life in an instant!"

"And you think I don't know the horrific risks?" Sera cut in fiercely, her voice trembling under the weight of her surging emotions. "Valerius is the man who slaughtered my entire family! He destroyed my life and my childhood five years ago! How can you ask me to sit comfortably in a lavish room while my parents' murderer is only miles away from here?!"

"I came here to slaughter that army and bring you his head!" Damon roared. "I am doing all of this to protect you from harm!"

"But I don't need to be protected like fragile porcelain!" Sera cried out. Tears began spilling down her cheeks, but her gaze remained firm and unyielding. "I didn't sneak into these ranks to be your burden, Damon! I came here because I hold something that can save your life and your entire werewolf army from a m******e!"

Damon froze. His burning fury dissolved instantly, halted by Sera's sharp declaration. "What do you mean?"

Sera unbuckled a thick leather satchel strapped tightly around the waist of her battle garb. Unfastening the bag, she revealed eight glass vials filled with a violet hued oil that shimmered mysteriously beneath the moonlight.

Damon narrowed his eyes, studying the vials with a puzzled frown. "What is this liquid?"

"This is a neutralizing Wolfsbane oil blend," Sera said, her tone suddenly turning deadly serious.

Damon's face hardened instantly upon hearing the plant's name. "Wolfsbane oil? The wolf-killing poison?"

"Not the poison, but the antidote," Sera corrected swiftly. "Valerius is a former southern army general. He knows full well that your werewolf warriors' main weakness is Wolfsbane extract. His plan isn't merely an assault with two thousand ordinary troops, Damon. He has prepared hundreds of smoke bombs and arrows coated in highly concentrated Wolfsbane oil to paralyze your army's wolf forms before the ground battle even begins."

Damon recoiled in utter shock. Sera's revelation was horrifyingly plausible. If his werewolf troops were hit by Wolfsbane fumes on the battlefield, they would be unable to shift, and their physical strength would plunge, rendering them easy prey for slaughter.

"How could you possibly know about a scheme this vile?" Damon asked, his voice softening as shock overtook him.

"The secret map I found in Kael's cloak last night," Sera replied plainly. "In the corner of that map was a coded reference to a supply shipment of Wolfsbane toxin from the southern territory. I spent two hours before the army's departure brewing this neutralizing oil using rare ingredients from the palace's secret vault."

Sera held up one of the glass vials in front of Damon's face.

"By simply applying this neutralizing oil to your warriors' armor and skin, the enemy's Wolfsbane fumes won't affect them in the slightest. Valerius's secret strategy to cripple your forces will crumble on the battlefield."

Damon stood rooted to the spot. He stared at the vial of oil in Sera's hand, then looked back up into her face. The fury that had consumed his chest slowly crumbled away, replaced by awe, deep emotion, and profound respect.

The woman standing before him was no longer a traumatized victim or a fragile servant he needed to constantly shelter behind his back. Sera was a true warrior—fighting with her intellect, courage, and knowledge to protect him and his entire army.

Damon stepped closer. Raising his large, calloused hand, he gently brushed away the lingering tear on Sera's cheek with his thumb.

"You truly are a dangerous woman, Sera," Damon whispered, his voice low, deep, and filled with pride.

Sera gazed at Damon's hand resting on her cheek, letting its warm touch soothe her heavy chest. "I just don't want to lose someone I deeply care about for the second time in my life."

Damon pulled Sera into his embrace. He held her tightly against his chest, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her soothing scent. "I'm sorry for underestimating your courage. Thank you for bringing this oil."

Sera returned Damon's embrace, soaking in the warmth radiating from the Alpha's body amidst the biting chill of the western hills.

Yet that warmth was short lived.

A sudden thunderous boom echoed from the valley below, violently rattling the ground beneath their feet. Hysteric shouts from the frontline scouts shattered the stillness of the night.

Damon instantly released his embrace and drew his sword in a fluid, reflexive motion.

Enemy war horns blasted through the darkness of the valley—their forces had marched right into an ambush!