WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Haruto
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Dark Fantasy Doctor Was Mistaken for a Saint ◈
Chapter 91: The Intent Was Good (2)
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* * *
With a bent car door in one hand,
our hero Gregor trudged back toward us.
“It seems the attack ended with that carriage just now...”
The muscleman reported with his shoulders drooping.
Even his drooping beard seemed to reflect his mood.
Watching him look so dejected, I found myself saying what I had been holding back.
“When you think about it, you followed us while taking on that risk. That seems a little harsh. I’ll handle the car repairs and the building damage. And I won’t mention it to the Church...”
In the end, he had done it to protect me, the citizens, and the guards.
Of course, as a Rank 4, it probably would not have been difficult for him to control his strength well enough to prevent that sort of collateral damage.
A Rank 4 superhuman could likely stop a carriage barehanded without damaging anything.
Still, it was not proper to scold a hero just because he had not achieved the best possible outcome.
‘It’s like filing a complaint over an ambulance siren.’
Once or twice was one thing.
But if it kept happening, it would make anyone lose confidence.
Making a hero worry about things like that did not seem right.
“Mr. Gregor, thank you. Please don’t worry too much about it.”
“Saint...!”
The moment he heard that I would overlook the collateral damage, Gregor bit a handkerchief and welled up with tears.
His lieutenant, who had been rescuing people beneath the overpass, protested.
“Saint! This is already the tenth time! Isn’t he like this because Lord Gregor breaks things every time, and every time, you settle it for him?”
The lieutenant’s sharp gaze landed on Gregor.
Gregor broke into a cold sweat and looked away.
“I... I...”
“Didn’t you also break through several house walls during the pursuit a few nights ago because you wanted to get ahead by taking a shortcut?”
“I thought it couldn’t be helped...”
“Lord Gregor!”
“Waaah.”
What was that?
Had he broken more things without me knowing?
“If you tell me about those as well, I can...”
“Saint!”
“But weren’t they all directly connected to my safety? We can’t make a hero worry about such trivial things, can we?”
The lieutenant opened and closed their mouth as though trying to say something, then pressed a hand to their forehead.
“Haah... Understood. But formalities and procedures are important to the Church as well.”
I knew.
If an organization kept letting things slide like this, it would cause problems in many ways.
Rules and procedures existed because ignoring them could create excessive collateral damage.
It was not good to disregard them entirely.
“If you keep setting this precedent, how will the other holy knights behave...?”
“Then let’s settle it with a written statement.”
A written statement was basically a formal letter of reflection.
There would be no further disciplinary action or pay cut.
Still, even that sort of performative statement was necessary.
I had handled complaints this way many times during my hospital days in my previous life.
Whenever I caused trouble, the hospital director and department head covered for me, and it ended with a single letter of reflection.
Back then, they were the ones covering for me.
Now, it was the other way around.
I had wanted to become an adult like them.
It seemed I had achieved that dream in another world.
“Will that be enough, Lieutenant?”
“Haah... Understood.”
“Saint! What a merciful saint you are! Please accept this hug, filled with my gratitude!”
Tearfully, he spread both arms wide.
A huge shadow descended toward me.
...I instinctively hid behind Otto.
“Urgh!”
Just as he had that morning, Otto’s face turned blue as it was buried in the mass of muscle.
The difference was that he had been wearing a uniform then, while now Gregor had taken off his top.
Pectoral muscles gleaming almost oppressively covered Otto’s face.
“S-Save me...!”
“It is a hug of joy! Do not refuse! Come!”
“Ghk...!”
Then the lieutenant, who had been watching Gregor’s rampage, spoke in an icy voice.
“However, no matter what else happens, I must report the matter of removing your top to the bishop.”
“Yes. I understand.”
That could not be helped.
“Haah... These vestments are expensive... How many times has this been now...?”
The lieutenant sighed while gathering up Gregor’s vestments, now reduced to rags.
A senior holy knight’s vestments were extremely expensive strategic equipment.
Every thread had divine magic woven into it, making them practically wearable barriers.
And he had torn apart such protective equipment, not from the aftermath of battle, but because he wanted to show off his muscles.
Even I could not cover for that.
There was another reason, too.
“The bishop?! No! Anyone but my godfather...!”
“The bishop personally asked me to report it, so there is nothing I can do.”
Sorry, but there was nothing I could do either.
The bishop was one of Gregor’s adoptive parents.
The bishop had once told me:
“He’s my good-for-nothing son. A senior holy knight should set an example through piety, yet he behaves like that... I apologize to you, Saint, but if he ever shows off his body in the middle of the street, please tell me.”
Honestly, I understood how the bishop felt.
A senior holy knight putting on a shirtless display in broad daylight, with divine power making his upper body shine.
For a bishop who had lived a pious life, it was surely an intolerable bad habit.
And I found it a little questionable too.
If children who grew up watching that sight later decided to become priests, what would happen to this country’s faith?
“I would like to overlook it too, but the bishop was so insistent...”
“NOOOO!”
Gregor dropped to his knees with a cry.
Gregor Ardenu, twenty-four years old.
A man who feared neither black mages nor injury.
Yet even he still seemed afraid of a parent’s nagging.
* * *
While we exchanged such pointless chatter,
the rescue effort for the people trapped beneath the overpass seemed to be nearing its end.
I wanted to help pull people out from under the rubble myself.
But rescue manuals forbid doctors from participating directly in rescues, so I held back.
At a rescue site, the rescue work belonged to emergency responders.
The doctor waited with folded arms, then treated those who had been pulled out.
If I wandered around the site and got hurt, that would put the cart before the horse.
So the best thing I could do was trust the holy knights carrying out the rescue and wait.
Good intentions alone could not produce the best outcome.
“How many victims are there?”
“According to life-force detection through divine magic, there appear to be around eight survivors trapped under the overpass. We have rescued five of them.”
The lieutenant reported.
Fortunately, most had external injuries and dehydration.
A few were seriously hurt, but their injuries were still treatable.
However, the result was not simply due to good fortune.
“Those black mages deliberately collapsed the overpass in a way that isolated the patients without killing them before you arrived, Saint.”
“I wish they would use that sort of skill elsewhere.”
Mold covered every broken cross section of the overpass.
They had likely used it to collapse the overpass at just the right time and take people hostage.
Then, while I carried out the rescue, they planned to strike with the carriage.
“How is the reverse tracking going?”
“I apologize. It is because of our incompetence...”
“Please don’t blame yourself, Lieutenant. This kind of black magic is difficult to trace, isn’t it?”
They had not selected only people close to me to abduct.
Magic prepared as a trap for anyone to get caught in was not easy to trace.
They said profiling required some understanding of a criminal’s intentions before they could be caught.
So if they set traps like this for just anyone to fall into, it would be difficult even for me to catch them.
“I’m more worried that I may keep revealing weaknesses to them.”
What worried me now was something else.
By the logic of dark fantasy, people became more vulnerable as the things precious to them increased.
In that sense, my weakness was patients.
In a world where even guards hesitated to rescue citizens the moment they learned black mages were involved,
I had walked proudly into a trap simply because there might be patients.
From the black mages’ perspective, they had gained another weakness to exploit.
“I can only feel sorry that innocent citizens keep getting caught up in this because of me.”
Gregor released Otto and his face darkened.
“Saint.”
Gregor called to me in a low voice.
“Your inability to ignore the innocent is a virtue. The ones who should be condemned are those vile people who exploit that virtue. Your goodwill must never be blamed. Is that not why people have become so indifferent to their neighbors after such things were repeated?”
As he put on the coat handed to him by the lieutenant, he spoke with a solemn expression.
“I believe the goodwill of people like you will ultimately make the world a better place. Therefore, you must not yield to their malice.”
“I gave you the wrong impression. It’s all right. I have no intention of denying the path I have walked over something like this.”
It was true that I had revealed a weakness that black mages could exploit.
So what?
Had I ever seen a protagonist tuck his tail and run because villains threatened him a few times?
If anything, a protagonist had to uphold their convictions at times like this.
If the world denied my beliefs,
then I would see those beliefs through to the very end.
Was that not what a protagonist did?
‘And how could a doctor see a patient and walk away?’
I had lived that way for decades, across both my previous life and this one.
I was not soft enough to bend my beliefs over something like that now.
“If they choose to act this way, I will overcome even that and prove that I am right. Of course, that will put you in danger, Mr. Gregor. I’m sorry about that.”
Gregor snorted at those words.
“You need not say such things! Have I not said it repeatedly? If malice stands in the saint’s path...!”
Hup!
He tensed his muscles again and struck a most-muscular pose.
Pop!
The buttons on the coat the lieutenant had found burst apart.
One button flew in an arc and landed on the lieutenant’s head.
A vein stood out on the lieutenant’s forehead.
But Gregor did not care as he cried out.
“I will simply break through that wall as well! Is that not my wish and my duty? So do not hesitate to cast me onto a thorny path!”
“Ha ha... That’s reassuring...”
“Grrrk...”
I heard the lieutenant grinding their teeth beside me, but pretended not to.
* * *
Even while we chatted, the rescue and treatment continued.
Dehydration was corrected with IV fluids.
Trauma patients were classified through triage, then urgently transported to nearby clinics.
Thanks to divine magic detecting life force, the rescue went smoothly.
“Saint!”
When only one person remained,
the lieutenant urgently waved me over.
“One person remains! But...”
The lieutenant pointed beneath a massive steel beam.
A patient could not escape because their leg was trapped underneath.
Other than mild dehydration, there were no obvious symptoms.
“This beam is too large! We need Lord Gregor’s help!”
Stars appeared in Gregor’s eyes when he heard that.
Crack.
“Oh! Understood! This very moment is when my muscles are needed! The essence of muscle training, perfected by our Ardenu Sect over a thousand years, shall reveal its true power here today!”
Without hesitation, he ran toward the steel beam.
Before I could stop him, Gregor shoved his arms beneath its lower edge.
I urgently called out to him.
“Gregor! Wait! If you lift that, the patient will die!”
“What?!”
Gregor froze in place in shock.
I explained quickly so he could understand.
“The overpass collapsed two hours ago. The lower part of that person’s leg has likely become necrotic!”
When muscles were crushed beneath a heavy object for a long time, the muscle fibers in that area began to die little by little.
Dying muscles slowly released potassium, myoglobin, and acidic waste products outside their cells.
Those toxins caused no problem while the muscles remained crushed.
They had no way to flow past the compressed blood vessels.
But the problem arose the instant that pressure was released, the instant the steel beam was lifted.
The moment the beam rose,
the toxins pooled beyond the dying leg would flood into the upper body as though a dam had burst.
Potassium would reach the heart and stop its beating.
Myoglobin would clog the kidneys.
Other substances would acidify the blood and ruin the entire body.
It was called crush syndrome.
It was one of the most common mechanisms of death among patients at collapsed-building and earthquake sites.
Of course, I could not explain all those details one by one.
So I explained it simply.
“If poison rises from the dead leg, the patient could die.”
“Then...”
Gregor murmured as he looked at the leg trapped beneath the beam.
“...We have no choice but to cut it off...”
“Eek!”
The patient, already pale, turned even paler.
Surprisingly, Gregor was right.
Amputation was one option for crush syndrome.
We could not weigh a patient’s life against preserving one dying leg.
A doctor would be called in, then the leg would be cut with a saw.
I had done it many times.
But.
“If it were severe, that would be necessary. But this patient won’t need that.”
There was a standard called the MESS score.
It was used to determine whether a limb should be amputated.
By that standard, this patient did not need an amputation.
They had only been trapped for two hours, and they looked young.
Besides, they reacted when they heard our conversation.
“Patient, are you in pain right now?”
“My leg... hurts a little.”
“That’s fortunate. I’ll give you some anesthetic.”
Patients like this did not lose their legs.
Instead, they were rescued first, then treated in preparation for the toxins that would be released afterward.
“Otto, could you bring some IV fluids from the medicine box?”
Otto nodded and brought what I requested.
I immediately gave the patient fluids at the maximum rate.
“We’ll dilute the poison by giving you plenty of fluids before it rises.”
Then I tied a tourniquet around the leg.
Normally, a tourniquet was unnecessary for crush syndrome.
But after rescuing people in this world several times, I had no choice but to change the guidelines from my previous life.
I tied the tourniquet around the patient’s upper thigh and twisted the rod until the strap tightened around the patient’s thigh.
“I’ve blocked the blood vessels. You can lift it now, Mr. Gregor.”
“Understood!”
Hup!
A steel beam large enough to require heavy machinery rose into the air.
“Gregor, I have one more request. Go to the nearest Merkuer clinic and bring a healer who can use detoxification magic. If anyone asks who sent you, give them my name.”
What we needed now was detoxification magic.
Detoxification magic was a highly difficult form of magic here.
An ordinary Heal only required an understanding of recovery,
but detoxification magic required identifying every type of poison and matching the detoxification to it.
That was why, during the star anise incident several years ago, newborns had died with healers unable to do anything.
If they did not know what poison was involved, healers could not expect dramatic results from detoxification magic either.
Fortunately, our clinic had experience treating patients like this during the last large-scale disaster.
An adventurer who had been crushed beneath a magical beast’s corpse for hours had walked out of the clinic with both legs intact.
This patient would be the same.
That was why I specifically ordered him to bring someone from our clinic.
“Understood!”
Gregor took off running.
A shining mass of muscle sprinting almost as fast as a carriage.
He would probably kidnap a healer and return within ten minutes.
There was only one thing I needed to do in the meantime.
“Patient.”
“Yes?”
“Could you drink this and count to ten for me?”
“Uh... one... two... three... urk.”
The patient fell asleep.
The ether had taken effect.
It was an inhaled anesthetic I had acquired from the airship mooring station.
Apparently, it had been created recently.
They called it some strange chemical name instead of ether there, so it took me a while to find it.
It had many side effects and complications, but there was no choice now.
‘Chloroform is contraindicated in crush syndrome.’
I could not use the chloroform I usually used here.
Its liver toxicity could send the patient straight to the Lord.
“The patient is asleep. Otto, move the patient into the car.”
This was not an appropriate place for surgery.
Not that the inside of a car was appropriate either.
Still, it was better than a site covered in dust.
After turning the car into a makeshift operating room, I immediately took out my surgical tools.
The lieutenant was shocked when they saw me take out a razor blade.
“Did you not say you would not cut it off?”
“I will not cut it off.”
I would only cut into it.
With those words, I began making incisions in the patient’s leg.
Author’s Note
A tip that might someday be useful.
Crush syndrome is often overlooked at disaster sites.
People trapped beneath heavy objects can seem far too clear-headed.
So rescuers simply lift the object and move on.
Then toxins suddenly surge through the body, and the person can die in an instant.
In addition to being trapped beneath buildings, similar symptoms can also appear in illnesses that simply block blood vessels.
Footnotes:
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