Chapter 402: Formidable Challenge

Chapter 402: Formidable Challenge

"Will of the goddess?" Rosalind sneered. A subtle display of contempt played across her features, reflecting her skepticism and perhaps even a hint of disdain. However, before the tension could escalate further, Martin swiftly intervened, redirecting the focus to the wounded.

"Instead of arguing, let us attend to the wounded," Martin spoke before Dorothy gets the chance to answer her. "Since I am here, it is best that I help out in the infirmary. Dorothy let us go. People are wounded. Let us not waste our time arguing."

Dorothy smiled.

"Of course, Father," Dorothy replied, gracefully bowing to Rosalind before following Martin towards the infirmary, a sense of purpose and compassion emanating from her.

Observing their departure, Rosalind turned to Denys, her expression retaining a touch of concern. She sought his perspective, hoping to gain insight into the strange aura she sensed around Dorothy.

"Denys," Rosalind began, her voice low and contemplative, "have you noticed anything peculiar about that woman?"

Frowning slightly, Denys pondered her question, his brows furrowing in concentration. After a moment's reflection, he shook his head.

"I'm afraid not," Denys replied.

Rosalind nodded, accepting Denys' answer without further probing.

"Very well," Rosalind stated, her voice composed. "Let us join the others."

Not long after, they arrived in the area where Brinley Fluer had been standing earlier. From there, Rosalind could clearly see what was happening outside.

She narrowed her eyes at the chaos in front of her.

Rosalind, initially underestimating the magnitude of the confrontation, found herself taken aback by the ferocity and skill of their enemies. What she had anticipated as a straightforward encounter quickly revealed itself to be a formidable challenge.

Because of this, Dorothy's remarkable proficiency in tending to the injured no longer surprised Rosalind.

With a grace that belied her youthful appearance, Dorothy skillfully maneuvered through the sea of pain and suffering, her hands moving with practiced precision. Each bandage was expertly applied, and each wound was treated with care and meticulousness that would rival the skills of a seasoned healer.

Rosalind's thoughts drifted to the events in her past life, a surge of recognition washed over her.

The similarities between Dorothy's current actions and those from her previous existence were undeniable. At that time, Dorothy pretended to receive a blessing and helped all the wounded soldiers.

She would toil relentlessly, pushing herself to the brink of exhaustion until her body could no longer withstand the strain. The facade she had crafted had garnered her endless accolades and adoration from both the aristocracy and common folk alike.

She averted her gaze for a moment, collecting her thoughts and summoning her inner strength. Determination coursed through her veins as she approached a wounded soldier lying on a makeshift cot. However, just as she prepared to offer her assistance, the commanding voice of her father, Martin, cut through the air.

"Someone assist the duchess out of the infirmary. This scene is not for the faint-hearted," Martin's words reverberated inside the large infirmary.

Rosalind turned her attention towards her father, meeting his gaze squarely.

"I am certain that you would understand why I have to let someone assist you out of this room, right, Duchess?" Martin's question hung in the air, awaiting a response.

"No," Rosalind's voice carried a quiet strength. "There is no need."

Martin's brows furrowed, perplexed by her defiance. Before he could utter another word, Rosalind raised her hand, the air around her fingertips shimmering with ethereal darkness. A tendril of inky mist emerged, gracefully snaking its way toward the soldier's side, where a deep, claw-like wound marred his flesh.

Silence settled upon the infirmary as all eyes turned to witness the mysterious phenomenon unfolding before them.

Rosalind's gaze never wavered from her father's as she continued to channel her healing abilities, willing the dark mist to mend the soldier's grievous wound.

A sense of awe and wonder rippled through the room as the soldier's injury began to close before their eyes.