The inability to do anything in the face of evil made Gabrio still. His gloved hand wiped the blood of his patients. Groaning as he dearly held on to his life. The inability to do anything in the face of evil made Gabrio still. His gloved hand wiped the blood of his patients. Groaning as he held on to his breathe.

Ever since the Fleet had started moving forward to escape the Strait. He had lived a life of endurance. It was always a struggle. This time it was worse than their previous encounters.

A Doctor like him was always tending to the people. He had come to realize that this time he was trapped in his clinic without not being able to do anything outside of his clinic. Then again he was not the kind who goes out there to fight. He was a healer.

And yet despite that the smell of their blood. The groans that they make while they beg him to stop the pain can be sometimes maddening to Gabrio.

One wounded after another comes in in and out of his clinic. His hand had been moving, doing surgery, and tending to the wounds of those who came to him. Medicine was being produced by Arkshelled Island at least. That was one of the few good news that he hears.

Wound after wound. Battle after battle. He had been doing nothing but fixing people. Making sure that they live long enough to fire their guns at the enemy. Time has been so fast ever since they started it. His sense of time was lost. His awareness of how many days were passing had been lost when he was covered in the constant cacophony of gunpowder and moans.

His hand was holding a soldier who had been shot in the chest. He had tried to take the projectile out of the soldier's chest but to no avail the poison had spread, there was nothing that would work.

Not his drugs. Not the medicine produced by the Arkshelled Elf-kin. Not even the wisps could save the soldier now. He was one of the soldiers that came on this voyage in hopes that they could see islands and save the world. And now his life was leaving him.

One of the first things that Gabrio needed to learn when he started holding a scalpel and treating people was that they could die on you. He was taught how to harden his heart and look at the person as if he or she was a fragile being that could stop breathing at any moment.

The soldier slowly stopped breathing. This has been the third soldier that died today. His tired legs moved to the patient where he inspected the gash on their wounds. Their enemies this time made use of weapons with a poisonous sting.

Once you get injured by their weapon you will suffer pain unimaginable. Your flesh will rot as if they were dead and it leaves this corpse-like smell. To combat this he had been removing their flesh. Hoping that the rot will not spread in the parts of their bodies. Once the rot spread to vital parts he could only hold the hand of the patient.

He had been overdosing on them with his opioids to make them suffer less. Most of the patients who had gotten sick could only be thrown off the Grand Galleon immediately. He had been making it clear that those who got affected by this poison must be immediately removed from the Grand Galleon.

Outside the Fleet was fighting waves after waves of monsters trying to stall time. The Baron of the Interstice, the one who was destined to be the savior of the creatures, has been leading the fight against the Blinder of Light.

It has been two weeks since they started battling on one of the plains. Each blow from their giant figures shook the world. The mountains that spread on the horizon were wiped out. The hills were flattened and the fog of ice that had been covering this land they were passing became less as their strikes clash.

He has not been able to sleep for more than two hours. Working twenty-two hours a day. He was glad that the tree-heart has been keeping him strong and healthy.

Wearing a beaked mask where he stored most of his herbs. His body was clad in thick white robes that allowed him to see any stain on his robe and sterilize it.

There were times that he would sit down and faint for hours. There were moments when he would find himself jolted awake and get to work. Time and time again he was reminded that this was a battlefield worse than they had experienced. The Icean Spine was easy compared to the battle they were facing now.

They might have the advantage but the enemy was using tactics and weapons of their own that could rival theirs. Nonetheless, the biggest problem was the poison they possessed could rot the flesh and kill it. The Doctors and Surgeons of the Ark have been trying to find a cure for this flesh-rotting poison. There was some progress in regard to this poison. The problem was that they didn’t have the manpower to spare. Not to mention that many of the soldiers were occupied by the fighting to bother going to one of the forests to gather ingredients for the antidote.

He had heard that a team was made to gather the materials in bulk. Accompanied by Elven-kin and Jesters who were able to fight the monsters with extreme ease. Gabrio was a Doctor, not a fighter. The only thing he could do was wait for their success. Hoping that they would come back, give his peers a chance to make an antidote, and prevent more deaths from happening.

The battle has been taking a toll on his mind. To the point that lately he had dreams of the time when he had his heart replaced. It was a strange dream where there were flying metal birds and boats made of steel floating. Spewing smoke and creating this ear-shattering sound as they pass.

He saw iron snakes following an iron trail. He saw men and women speaking on these handheld devices. He saw glowing boxes with little humans singing and dancing and recreating plays.

The strangest out of these dreams was these strange tattoos that they give him that burned into his skin.

The lion seemed to be viciously tearing through enemies.

The eagle tears people from the distance and senses prey from afar.

And finally, the spider silently moves and kills the prey without being seen.

The marks that were burned into his body in the dream made him stronger, wiser, and skilled. It made him durable and able to regenerate from grievous wounds.

Falling from buildings.

Being shot multiple times and still fighting like a cornered animal.

The one in the dream was stronger and faster than him. But it was a dream. He truly believed that there was no way that flying birds and steel boats could exist.

And in those dreams, the one who had the marks engraved into his bones was a killer. A ruthless man who killed, butchered, and took down people. He killed people. He butchered men who he thought deserved it.

The dreams he had been seeing were scary. But in every dream, he’d always see the dragon carved on the back of the man glowing. Wrapped in a fire that seems to resist everything.

He had been dreaming about the slaughter. He had been dreaming of a world of imagination that he didn’t understand at all. Perhaps he was stressed out and it was showing.

Gabrio started to think that maybe at a time of great stress. He had started thinking and hoping that he’d be stronger as well. So that he can work longer and be faster.

He was a man trapped in a room full of the wounded. A room where there were only their moans and their cry for help. He had been tending to their wounds without rest. Constantly pushed himself so that he could make them live.

Perpetually healing others as long as his body is functioning. It was strange. Even if Gabrio could find himself with such strength and speed. He thought that he would still dedicate it to pursuing medicine. He could spend more time working than sleeping. He could do much more than what he could do with a body like this.

Gabrio smiled under his mask at that dream. His hands continued working on helping the wounded. The rest of the wounded were resting outside of the passage of the clinic. Those who were in critical condition were placed inside the cots where they were strapped to prevent falling when the Grand Galleon shakes. No one could enter the lower levels of the Grand Galleon unless they were a soldier or part of the Inquisition.

He was tending to the wounds of a soldier when Inquisitor Cooper Ackie walked in while wearing a mask with a filter. His whole body was clad in black. His mask scanning the clinic.

“Doctor, how are things?”

“More of them are necrotizing. Taking their flesh isn’t going to work.”

Inquisitor Cooper stood sternly. “Can we talk in your office, Doctor?”

Gabrio understood. The two went to his office. The graveness in his voice made Gabrio worried.

“We are losing men. Medicine production can’t keep up if we continue to lose against the poison. We will have to wait for days before the expedition team we sent can return with the herbs and materials needed to concoct the poison. The Elven-kin can reproduce the herb but it will take longer and there is a good chance that they might not make it through the dense jungle.”

Gabrio folded his arms and demanded. “Then what do you want, Inquisitor?”

“We must save only those who can be saved. Reduce the medicine and keep the ones who can still be used alive.”

“I’m sure that the place where cattle are tended to is five passages away. So let me hear it again, Inquisitor.”

“We need to save up on medicine.”

“By killing our people? Reducing those who could wield guns? Throwing them away when they can still fight?”

“It’s for the greater good--”

“No. Don’t you dare say that it’s for the greater good, Inquisitor! There is no good in this. Do you understand what you are trying to do? Greater good or not you are breeding HATE within our people. You are ordering me to let them die without trying. It might work in a city where people are spread. But let us not forget that we are in a giant floating tub in the middle of nowhere. They outnumber us by the dozen. They are all armed to the teeth and their ears here more than they let on.

“So tell me why killing our men seems like a very good idea? I understand that we are getting more cripples than healthy. But even so, we are getting the help of the elven-kin to get them wooden arms and legs. I understand that we are getting more sick as days pass without rest. But don’t do this.”

Inquisitor Cooper’s answer was silence.

“The battle has been hard. I will give you this one, Doctor. But if a disease sickens our Galleon. Then I hope that you do what you are best at.”

“You are tired, Inquisitor. I recommend that you get some sleep as well. I’ll keep your words in mind.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I hope that you don’t think badly of me for this.”

“We need to make the choices, Inquisitor. But what I ask is that you let me try my best first. Then we’ll decide if it’s good or not.”

He stopped at the doorway. “There are days I wonder where you’re either the cruelest man or kindest of us all. I don’t pity what you do here.”

“I’m the healer of this Grand-Galleon. I think that it would be best if I’m the one to decide if we do what you want to. They still can’t be helped. Some of them at least. So until then, I wish that you’d let me handle this, Inquisitor.”

Inquisitor Cooper Ackie left.

Gabrio went back to his patients.

His eyes clouded.

His mind wanders to the dreams he sees in his sleep once again.

The dragon stared back at him at his dreams.

And he turns his head away and brings his eyes to the wounded.