The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 221 - A Small Doctor With Clenched Teeth Is Not The Sort Of Bedside Manner I’d *Want*, But If It Works!

Chapter 221: Chapter 221 - A Small Doctor With Clenched Teeth Is Not The Sort Of Bedside Manner I’d *Want*, But If It Works!

Among the half dozen preliminary matches, there were just three that ended quickly for Qatrand. In one, the hammer wielder’s overhead strike met empty air as the swordswoman stepped aside.

This was the second hammer user and after three clean dodges, her practice blade found the opening in their recovery in each. Swift taps that seemed as if the blade just *happened* to be there ended the match even before their opponent could bring their weapon back to guard.

In another, a medium blade user - the first non heavy weapon fight - proved more challenging. They continued forcing exchanges that locked their weapons together with the intent to snake their weapon around hers.

The crowd’s murmurs grew when their favorite simply pushed forward with her strong legs during the second blade lock. The Yecine matched their opponent’s attempt to twist their wrist while using her raw strength to force them out past the duel field’s boundary.

She was not the only member of her family that won a match by this use of tactical advantage instead of scoring strikes. Hers was not exactly the family technique of swinging until they retreated too far, but it was just as undeniably effective.

"What’s wrong, can’t focus without your little fairy watching?"

The final handaxe fighter’s taunt when Qat was staring off drew no vocal response. She simply reversed her grip on the blunt greatsword’s hilt, treating the bout more obviously like a training exercise than a proper respectful match. Each direct block made their opponent’s movements grow wilder to find an unprepared opening.

Until three quick points were scored in succession that proved her ability to focus.

The fragment in her chest had warmed with ’amusement’ during that match. The latest was the most divergent of all from what her family expected of her! However, that spiritual presence shifted quickly - pulling away with sharp ’focus’ that suggested to the swordswoman that her wife’s attention had found something more pressing.

The phantom of old memories accompanied a sharp crack that split the air from the western field. Scattered screams from the shocked crowd and the injured competitor drew a lot of attention. A practice blade had shattered during a high-speed exchange, sending large metal fragments tearing into one of the fighters.

The scout, Karis, who had claimed first in the tower climb rushed to kneel beside the fallen competitor. While their region had no hope for him when it came to martial pursuits, his friend had been expected to place highly. The injured cultivator’s spirit thrashed with pain on the ground while their essence field rippled erratically around the embedded shards.

The curved blade wielder ’responsible’ stood frozen. Her remaining weapon dropped to the earth as she stared at what had happened. Their sponsor’s provided practice weapon had failed catastrophically. In that way, it wasn’t her fault.

However, something in her spirit flickered with recognition. Not anything directly about the current moment, but of some deeper pattern of bad luck that she couldn’t quite grasp. The horror in her eyes carried shadows of old guilt she had no logical reason to feel.

Several medics rushed forward but hesitated at the sight. This wasn’t a simple training incident - the shards had torn through muscle and perhaps embedded in bone. The kind of wound that could end more than just the following tournament participation if not handled appropriately.

Traditional battlefield medicine wouldn’t be enough - not if they wanted to maintain full mobility after the wounds began their healing.

"Move back. All of you."

The Goltbred heiress’s voice cut through the stalled chaos with ’unusual’ steel.

Elua’s steps carried her past the other medical staff with calm purpose. Her steps carried her past hesitating medical staff. Those mint eyes deliberately avoided the woman whose weapon had caused this.

The sweet smile she was known to wear had vanished entirely.

"You. Help me get his jacket off. Carefully."

The senior medic she pointed to jumped at her tone but moved to assist. When the woman behind them unfroze and stepped forward, hands outstretched to help, the brunette’s next words came out in a tone sharp enough to make several people flinch.

"Not you. Get out of my sight."

Her fingers traced the injuries through the bloodied fabric, mapping with her spirit damage that normal eyes couldn’t assess. She had moved this way because her Qat would have wanted her to. But the presence of the woman invading her awareness made her next commands to the other medics come out just as clipped and cold.

"We need a proper space. Not here in the dirt. And I’ll require my personal tools."

The boots that scuffed earth behind her were timely and Elua turned toward the person she had known was approaching. With a few steps, a brass key pressed into Qatrand’s palm. The cute girl looked severe, though the fact that her emotions were visible at all meant... *something*.

"This will require more precise attention than simple bandaging. Third chest from the entrance, you know the box I need."

Pigeon blues studied her wife’s face with clear concern. Her eyes had light, but they were not happy. She hadn’t known her El to ever just ’exist’ with such a visible display of fire for this length of time.

"Are you okay?"

"No. But... it’s controllable for now. Go and get back before it isn’t, please."

The raven-haired swordswoman’s quick nod carried understanding. One far deeper than any in the gathered crowd could guess from their exchange. As Qat carried herself away at speed, the Goltbred forced her attention to snap back to the other medics with renewed intensity.

’Already like this, I may well make use of it.’

"You three, help me move him. Support the leg exactly where I show you. The rest of you, clear the storage room in that direction. Make sure I have a space clean enough for treatment."

Her commands grew more precise and lengthy but no warmer. The person that had been specifically asked to go away still hovered at the edge of the group. She felt drawn by something she couldn’t name. Something that made the hostility of the ’medical fairy’ feel both foreign and achingly familiar.

Just like that time when visiting the region on a mission for her Guild. When she left a gift for the wedding she had run into at the coast. The young bride had looked extremely happy then, unlike now.

’Of course, no one should be happy at a time like this.’

The medics from this dueling field found themselves following her directions without question despite her youth and despite her not being assigned here. Even the senior staff moved just as she indicated, making it easy for the others to follow suit.

"Careful with that leg as you put him on the stretcher. Keep it exactly- I said exactly as I showed you."

The last words came out in a growl that made the middle aged man holding the limb freeze. His spirit carried ’uncertainty’ about following a girl young enough to be his daughter, but her glare when he looked up prevented any argument. She adjusted his grip herself with her tiny fingers and surprising strength.

"Listen carefully. The lodged fragments could tear something more vital and make what I intend to do riskier if you don’t follow my instructions. Now move."

The curved blade wielder started forward again to follow them with words of apology forming on her lips - both to the injured party and to the angry healer. Something fractured inside her spirit pulled her toward shadows of instinct. A desire to be forgiven that made no full sense.

"I said stay back."

Elua’s voice dropped to a monotone as she guided the impromptu stretcher team. The very real ’ghost’ of a former disciple getting near made her fingers twitch and her spirit constrict. The urge to do something very antithetical from that of a healer’s role sat primed inside her.

A fire of revenge that had been stoked high long ago and too quickly doused with the forces of impossibility... because of her betrayer’s premature death. No matter what emotional logic she used about the one truly responsible - or how the person trailing behind was ’not quite her’ - it did not resolve the tension.

Only the thought of what her ’fortress’ would want kept her focused on the patient.

"The room is ready."

Her gaze swept the hastily cleared storage space at the female voice, noting what would normally need to be adjusted in a proper infirmary. But it was better than where they were before. Cutting on someone in front of the crowd would not have won her the ’right’ kind of fans.

"Get me all your clean cloth to soak the blood. There will be lots of it. I’ll want to borrow a few of your tourniquets to limit it. And someone else bring us sterile water."

They carefully transferred the injured cultivator onto a spare table before taking care of her requests. Karis er Malthen hovered anxiously nearby throughout it all. His spirit radiated worry for his friend, but he stayed respectfully clear of the working medical team.

He also stayed away from the woman who was involved in the duel. The scout seemed to recognize there was something more happening than just some kind of professional tension, even if he didn’t know a lot about the heiress. He subtly didn’t want to be associated with the person, just in case it affected the mood of who seemed to be trying to provide aid to his friend.

Her feet remained rooted just outside the doorway to the room. Elua knew because her own spirit hung about the woman whose name she did not know in this life. The illusionist constantly thought about invoking her Astralism and just *dealing* with the matter without any witnesses.

’Why can’t you just listen. She never listened right. Stop reminding me of her!’