Chapter 7: Curiosity Has Operating Expenses

By the time Zishan reached rear command, he had learned three important things.

First, walking through a battlefield was considerably less enjoyable when nobody was chasing him. At least while running for his life, he had been too busy screaming, dodging attacks, and questioning every decision that had somehow led him there to properly notice how many bodies lay between the damaged wagons, broken barricades, and churned stretches of mud.

Now that nobody was actively trying to kill him, unfortunately, he had enough time to look around and realize just how horrifying the battlefield actually was.

’Fuck... There are so many dead people.’

The smell of blood and smoke had become harder to ignore too, mixed with burned wood, sweat, and several other things Zishan had absolutely no interest in identifying. He quickly decided that being too busy to notice everything earlier had probably been a blessing.

Second, the armored man finally had a name.

Commander Garran Holtz.

Zishan had heard several soldiers address him during the walk, which was useful because he could finally stop referring to him as the Silently Grumpy Armored Guy inside his head.

Third, and perhaps most offensively, Appraisal was apparently not fucking free.

He discovered that particular problem when the ground suddenly seemed to tilt beneath his feet. Zishan caught himself against the side of a supply wagon.

One of his escorts glanced over. "You all right?"

"Perfectly." Zishan straightened and took another two steps before a strange hollowness spread through his head. His vision tightened around the edges, and he immediately stopped walking until the world decided to behave normally again. "Actually, maybe only mostly perfectly."

[The Dumb Host is experiencing Mana Depletion.]

His expression stiffened. ’From what?! I haven’t even used Rift Steps since the battlefield!’

[The Dumb Host has used Appraisal seventeen times since Settlement. You are truly a Dumb Host, further proven by you yourself.]

Zishan stopped walking. ’Seventeen?!’

[Correction. Eighteen. The Dumb Host attempted to Appraise the command tent while asking that question.]

His eyes slowly shifted toward the large canvas structure ahead of him.

He had, in fact, been trying to Appraise it.

’That was automatic.’

[The System has observed no evidence that stupidity becomes less stupid when performed automatically.]

’Fuck you.’

A small panel immediately appeared in front of him.

[Current Mana: 7 / 60]

Zishan’s face changed. ’SEVEN?!’

Commander Holtz looked back after hearing the strangled sound that escaped his throat. "Problem?"

"No." Zishan forced a smile while trying not to look like he was about to collapse beside the wagon. "I’m just discovering that curiosity apparently has operating expenses."

The commander stared at him for a moment before turning around and continuing toward the tent. Zishan followed much more carefully this time and decided that Appraisal was officially forbidden until his Mana recovered.

His eyes still wandered toward a strange metal device beside one of the wagons.

’Maybe just one—’

[No.]

Zishan’s eyebrow twitched. ’I DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING! TCH!’

Rear command turned out to be far less impressive than the name suggested. Several large tents had been erected behind a line of defensive earthworks, while messengers moved constantly between tables covered in maps, rosters, documents, and stacks of narrow metal plates. Wounded soldiers occupied one side of the area, and supply wagons crowded the other as auxiliaries carried crates and equipment between them.

Zishan looked around with growing disappointment.

’Where’s the giant floating war map?’

[Unavailable.]

’Crystal communication table?’

[Unknown.]

’A beautiful receptionist who tells me I’ve awakened a legendary hidden Class?’

[Cyrune has no Classes.]

Zishan nearly stumbled again, although Mana Depletion had absolutely nothing to do with it this time. ’WHAT KIND OF FANTASY WORLD DOESN’T HAVE CLASSES?!’

[One with Magic Professions instead.]

’That just sounds like trying hard to make it sound different. Just classes under a different name, I guess.’

[Incorrect.]

’Sounds correct to me.’

Before the argument could continue, Commander Holtz pushed aside the flap of the largest tent and motioned for Zishan to enter.

Three people sat behind a broad wooden table. One wore military armor, another had ink stains covering both hands and looked like someone who had spent most of his life fighting paperwork instead of people, while the third was an older woman wearing a pale green robe that looked suspiciously clean for someone currently sitting in the middle of a battlefield.

Several thin bands of pale light moved slowly around her wrists, disappearing beneath her sleeves whenever she shifted.

Naturally, Zishan’s curiosity recovered much faster than his Mana.

’Appraisal.’

[The System strongly recommends—]

’Just one.’

Nothing happened.

Zishan waited for several seconds before frowning. ’Hello?’

[Insufficient Mana for attempted depth.]

’Oh.’

The green-robed woman looked directly at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. Zishan smiled politely before slowly looking toward the ceiling as if he had suddenly discovered something extremely interesting above them.

Commander Holtz noticed immediately. "Did you try that Skill again?"

"Nope."

The woman raised an eyebrow.

Zishan remained silent for approximately one second before correcting himself. "...It failed before I could actually use it, so technically, I didn’t do anything."

Commander Holtz exhaled through his nose. "You still tried."

"Technicalities matter."

The ink-stained officer apparently decided he wanted absolutely no part in that argument. He pulled one of the narrow metal roster plates closer and began reading from it.

"Zishan Walker. Auxiliary Field Unit, Eastern Formation, Third Supply Line. Reported missing during the eastern collapse and recovered approximately forty minutes later after exiting a hostile position."

"Recovered is a generous word," Zishan immediately said. "I recovered myself, by the way."

Commander Holtz folded his arms. "After entering the hostile position yourself, so it’s fair that you recovered yourself."

"That portion of the story has already been investigated, so it’s useless bringing that up again," he replied.

The officer looked between them once before deciding to ignore both. "You were registered as a volunteer auxiliary eleven months ago. No disciplinary marks. Basic field training completed. Medical support qualification incomplete. Supply handling certification complete."

Zishan had only been half-listening until one phrase caught his attention.

Medical support.

Something faint stirred among the memories belonging to the body he now occupied, but they were too scattered and incomplete to be useful.

His own memories came much more easily. He remembered anatomy diagrams taped beside his desk, the smell of disinfectant clinging to his clothes after hospital duty, gloves pulled too tightly over tired fingers, and classmates complaining about practical examinations while he wondered whether he had forgotten a cupcake inside the dorm refrigerator.

’Wait. Did I ever eat that one?’

He immediately suppressed the thought and focused on the present time.

The older woman finally spoke. "You have medical training?"

Zishan looked at her. "More than the records apparently give me credit for."

"How much?"

That question immediately became complicated because answering honestly would require explaining another world, transmigration, and the possibility that he had died trying to save a cupcake. None of those sounded particularly helpful to his current situation.

"Enough to know you don’t pull out an impaled object before you know what it’s damaged," Zishan replied. "It could be the only thing keeping someone from bleeding out."

The woman stared at him. "That was quite a very simplified answer from you."

"..."

Before she could ask anything else, a shout erupted outside.

"HEALER! WE NEED A HEALER HERE!"

The old woman stood immediately as the pale bands around her wrists brightened. She had barely walked toward the entrance when two soldiers rushed through the flap carrying another man between them.

Blood had soaked most of the wounded soldier’s trouser leg. A broken shaft protruded from the inside of his thigh, and one of the men carrying him had already wrapped cloth tightly around the injury. Zishan’s eyes immediately moved toward the leg below the wrap and noticed the skin beginning to darken.

The wounded soldier was still conscious, but barely.

Whatever nonsense Zishan had been thinking disappeared almost instantly.

"Put him down," the old woman ordered.

The soldiers quickly lowered him onto an empty cot, and Zishan moved before anyone even asked him to.

"Don’t remove the shaft." He pointed toward the cloth wrapped around the man’s thigh. "And don’t touch that yet either. If that’s the only thing controlling the bleeding, taking the pressure off could kill him."

The soldiers immediately listened.

Zishan moved closer and crouched beside the cot. "Keep him still. I need to see where the blood is coming from first."

The soldier nearest him obeyed without argument. The older woman’s eyes shifted toward Zishan again, and something about the way she looked at him had changed. Commander Holtz seemed to notice it too.

Zishan only realized everyone had gone strangely quiet after he was already kneeling beside the cot with blood on his fingers.

He looked up. "What?"

"You said you had some medical training," the woman replied.

"I did say that. Why?" Zishan was confused.

"That was not basic auxiliary instruction."

Zishan looked down at the wounded man’s rapidly paling face before returning his attention to her. "Can we save the questions until after we stop him from dying?"

For the first time since meeting him, Commander Garran Holtz almost smiled.

Almost.

[DING!]

Zishan’s eyes immediately flicked toward the greenish panel appearing beside the cot.

[The System has detected a situation in which the Dumb Host may accidentally become useful.]

His eyebrow twitched.

’You couldn’t just say new Quest?’

[No.]

’Of course not.’