"Help," someone yelled from the inside. "Anyone have a medkit?!"
"Vasiliy died," another voice answered. "I'll check his gear, but—"
"Will a first aid kit do?" Konrad asked, entering the rail depot, still a bit pale and shaken. "I used some of it, but it has plenty of bandages and sterile gauze left."
The Stalkers only paused for a second.
They took a look at him and the Captain, and a glance at their PDAs to see if they were friend or foe. Regardless of their gear and being strangers, they seemed to have passed that test.
"Bandages are all I need," the guy leaning over his wounded comrade said. "And a constrictor?"
"He has a Soul," the other, looting their friend, claimed. "But we have to stop his bleeding first."
It took Konrad a moment to realize he was talking about an artifact.
Dmitry whistled, too.
"That's some high-grade stuff," he said.
It was the top-tier version of the Meat he wanted to find.
"And I bet it was the reason these bastards attacked us, too," the one kneeling noted, reaching out to take the med kit. "Thanks, Stalker. You're saving our lives."
Mentioning the enemy, the Captain glanced at his PDA, too.
"It seems the rest of them retreated north. This shows four dots and counts four as well."
"What about the grey ones?" Konrad asked, but he already knew the answer.
"They're dead," one of the Stalkers grunted, pointing at his motionless comrade. "Don't ask how Sidorovich installed all these apps, and let this thing know. But it's pretty reliable."
Ah. So that's why they were fighting for the life of one guy and looting the other.
He couldn't see a difference from where he was standing.
But now that he saw those four grey dots where he left the bandits—
Yeah, they were all dead, too.
"No luck here, he only had some bread and ammo," the stranger gave up looting. "Hey, um, is it fine if I check your kills, too? I'll hand over anything valuable, I promise."
There was no need to say that out loud. Konrad was still not over it.
But Dmitry answered in his stead.
"Go ahead, I'll cover you."
That left the Stalker lying on the ground, the one fighting for his life, and Konrad alone inside.
He didn't even look around until now.
But this was a rail depot, indeed. It even had a rust-eaten locomotive and a few rotting wagons inside. Half the rails were missing, but someone reinforced the structure with sandbags.
It was old. It could have been older than communism itself.
Sturdy. Half ruined, but still standing. Whoever put in the painstaking effort to fix every crack on the roof and cover all the windows did not take it easy.
"Fucking bleeding won't stop," the man gritted it out. "Can you help?"
Konrad blinked.
That healing magic could have come in handy right about now.
"Uh, what do I do?" he asked, scooting closer.
"His thigh artery," the Stalker pointed, blood squirting out the moment he let go.
Shit. Even Konrad knew, with his very limited medical knowledge, that it was a hell to deal with.
"I, uh—do I try to constrict it, or?"
"I don't know, mate, I'm not a medic, either," the stranger grunted, ripping out all the bandages from the med kit. "If we get it to stop somehow, we can use the artifact, and it's all good."
But even as he said that, it was clear that he was panicking, too.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Konrad panted, hands trembling as he leaned over the half-dead man.
The blood didn't even bother him.
It was the amount of it. Too much. Way too much.
He tried to pinch the artery closed, but it did nothing.
When was the last time he learned about first aid?
Could Stella stop the bleeding without killing or resurrecting this guy?!
Well, she wasn't here, and he still couldn't perform any healing magic himself.
Fucking useless.
He killed four guys, and now, he was trying to save a fifth, completely clueless.
"This doesn't work," he pleaded for help. "I don't know what I'm doing."
"Keep trying," the stranger barked back, wrapping bandages all over that leg.
Yeah, trying. He was, but—
If the bandages and his hands failed, what could he have done with magic?
Water spells were the only ones he never tried.
Earth, wind, light, and fire.
He could have cauterized the wound, but—
That would never stop the bleeding.
The guy below him was going pale, the pool growing larger and darker around him.
Liquids. What could he do with that?
He had a rune to manipulate the flow and one to solidify already hard objects.
Would any of those work on blood?! He happened to know the rune for that, too, but he never once used it. And all his usual spells that were easy to cast—
His Isekai Microwave seemed useless here.
No, focus. He didn't need spells that didn't work. He had to figure out what did?
"Okay, let me try something," he leaned closer, his fingers trying to pinch the wound shut.
Meanwhile, he was already working on a spell to slow the blood flow and solidify enough of it to weld the artery shut. Like, they had that Soul artifact, anyway.
Even if he fucked it up, but the bleeding stopped, that would fix his mistakes.
"Step back," Konrad said, and the Stalker froze.
"W-what are you doing?"
If only he knew.
"No time to explain, but you're in the way," he grunted. In truth, he didn't want another random guy to see him cast a spell. Luckily enough, the stranger was more desperate than suspicious.
Control. Blood. Slow the flow.
Solidify, a tenth of an inch, for an hour.
By then, this man was either dead or healed.
The end seal was heavy on his mind, and while the whole operation took less than two mana points, he was panting hard. But if nothing else, the bleeding stopped immediately.
"Quick," he yelled. "Bring that artifact. I don't know how long I can keep this up."
Not that he was doing anything anymore.
"Y-you have to let go of him, or it won't work," the other guy noted.
Fuck. Right. Sidorovich told him about it.
"Then let's pray his artery will hold," Konrad muttered and stepped away.
The Soul was not any larger than the Meat he saw earlier. It had a similar texture, too, but smoother, paler, and a little less disgusting. He could feel the radiation even without touching.
But its healing potential was easy to see as well.
Every wound, even the tears on the unconscious Stalker's clothes, started to mend. It didn't take a full minute for him to open his eyes and yelp, not from the pain but from the surprise.
"Holy shit, did I die?" he asked with a strong eastern accent. "Did we beat them back?!"
"This dude did," his comrade claimed, bumping his fist into Konrad's shoulder. "And he saved your freaking life, too. Idiot. Why did you have to wave this stupid artifact around?!"
Ah. Right, it was his.
"Sorry," the man moaned, looking around. "Where's Walther and Vasiliy?"
"Here," the other guy returned, Dmitry in tow. "But Vasiliy's dead. And so are half the bandits."
Yeah. Because they had to fucking keep reminding him.