A Hospital in Another World?

Rothgar Firehammer had been stuck at Level 8 for over a decade.

This "over a decade" didn’t start from the moment he advanced to Level 8, but rather, it had been a solid ten-plus years since he felt the threshold of advancement, yet failed to cross it. Every time, whether it was during rest, training, gathering strength, seeking opponents, or challenging himself in perilous places, he always fell short by just a little bit.

Yes, quite literally, "a little bit of breath."

Rothgar felt that it was always during the most intense battles, when his blood boiled and all his strength converged, that he would suddenly find himself short of breath, unable to catch that next breath. And then, any hopes of advancement...

Gone.

But this time was completely different! From the moment he successfully cleansed his lungs, he felt refreshed inside and out, or as Wigran put it, "like shedding two pounds." Running, exerting force, swinging his hammer, fighting—all without the mid-battle sensation of chest tightness and breathlessness!

An opponent of equal strength!

The determination to win!

The duty to expel traitors!

One after another, these moments piled up over ten years, finally culminating at a crucial life-or-death moment, allowing him to leap over the barrier that had held him back for so many years!

"AAAAAAAH!" he roared, his eyes burning red with bloodlust, as he collided into Kai’s chest with a "thud" that made Garrett, watching from across the training ground, shiver:

How heavy was that hit!

Concussion!

Skull fracture!

Extradural hematoma!

Rib fractures!

Pneumothorax and hemothorax!

Traumatic asphyxiation!

A series of cranial and chest traumas flashed through Garrett’s mind. Rubbing his hands together, his fingertips sparkling with white light, he instinctively stood up:

Several of these injuries could be fatal within minutes! Improper emergency response could mean one or even two lives lost!

Luckily, dwarves are much sturdier than humans, and the protective effects of their helmets and breastplates far exceeded Garrett’s estimates. Kai staggered back several steps and then sat down hard on the ground; meanwhile, Prince Rothgar stood firm, shook his head, and charged back into the fray with renewed vigor:

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Garrett exhaled, sat back down comfortably, and continued watching. His fingers rhythmically tapped the edge of his floating disk, now lightly, now heavily:

80!

80!

80!

Ah, that was only 40!

The difference between a Level 9 and a Level 8, in the case of a mage, is a qualitative change. While a Level 8 mage can only cast fourth-tier magic, a Level 9 mage’s total mental strength and concentration enable them to cast fifth-tier magic.

Though warriors don’t have such clear-cut level distinctions, a deeply experienced, truly competent warrior who advances in combat to Level 9 can easily leave their opponent searching for their teeth...

"DUANG!"

"DUANG!"

"DUANG!"

Uh, the battle has officially entered garbage time, hammering a turtle shell, so to speak...

The one-sided beatdown didn’t last long. Soon, after Kai was hammered flat on the ground, clearly unable to fight back, two high-level warriors entered the arena. They loudly declared the outcome of the fight and then dragged him out of the arena like a dead dog, throwing him directly to the Blackrock tribe.

The sidelines shimmered with light as healing spells fell one after another. However, aside from his own tribe, few cared about this traitor, this loser anymore.

The dwarf team for selecting a king cheered and rushed into the arena. Felay, Hanna, Gavin, and even Jenna, gathered around Prince Rothgar. Taking turns, they lifted him by his limbs and tossed him high into the air—

"Rothgar!"

"Rothgar!"

"The Hammer of Glory!"

"The new king! The new king! The new king!"

The cheers made the mountaintop rumble. More and more dwarves flooded into the arena, taking over the job from his teammates:

Tossing him into the sky!

Not just him, but his companions as well, were thrown up again and again. Jenna, being the only female in the team and lighter, was tossed even higher...

Garrett was dumbfounded, abandoning his floating disk and inching closer to the Silver Dragon Maiden. I say, folks, that’s over 200 pounds, armor included!

And you’re tossing him that high!

Do dwarves not use their strength for anything else?!

The celebration went on for a full half-hour. Finally, Prince Rothgar was allowed to come down, his

feet touching the ground. He looked around, identified his direction, and immediately strode towards Garrett.

A large group followed him, making Garrett’s face stiffen and his eyes widen as he hastily cast defensive spells on himself:

Mage Armor!

Shield Spell!Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Protection from Projectiles!

Feather Fall!

Don’t come over here, ah!

And even if you do, don’t you dare throw me into the air!

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Prince Rothgar, full of excitement, ran faster and faster. Under Garrett’s nearly terrified gaze, he came to a stop, skidded to a halt, and turned around—

He grabbed Garrett’s arm and hoisted it high above his head. Even with his height limitation, stretching as much as he could on tiptoes and fully extending his arm, he could only lift Garrett’s elbow just above his shoulder...

But the prince’s, or rather, the new king’s enthusiasm and sincerity were beyond question. In the silence that followed, only his passionate shouts resounded in everyone’s ears:

"Let me introduce you all! This is Garrett Nordmark, my companion during the selection ceremony and a divine healer! He personally cleansed my lungs and cured my chest congestion, making my advancement today possible!"

"What? Lung cleansing?"

"Can it really not kill you?"

"And you can advance?"

The arena was instantly abuzz. Old, young, adolescents, humans, dwarves, barbarians, orcs...

All eyes were fixed on Garrett, as if his face bore a complete manual stamped with a "Royal Family Endorsed, Quality Assured" seal.

This...

I indeed wanted to promote the effects of lung cleansing, but now it seems the effect is a bit too good...

Garrett managed a stiff smile, already envisioning a future filled with surgeries from morning till night, operating non-stop from 8 AM to midnight. Beside him, the Silver Dragon Lady grinned, giving him a thumbs up:

"Well done!"

Many great healers couldn’t achieve this! Only Garrett could!

"Garrett Nordmark..."

Archbishop Jeroni lowered his eyes, his expression unchanged, neither happy nor angry. He murmured so softly that only his close associates could hear, yet his voice was crystal clear:

"Remember this name. When you return... add him to the register, have the Tribunal pay special attention, and look for an opportunity."

"Yes!"

The priests bowed in response. Far away in the stands, Archmage Serrano dispelled his Eagle Eye spell and said to the mages around him:

"Prepare for negotiations. Let’s secure a good deal for Garrett. By the looks of it, those dwarf priests won’t learn lung cleansing anytime soon, and our young friend might not be able to leave..."

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