A Hospital in Another World? Chapter 923: Garrett: This is Not How You Treat an Epidemic!

Before Garrett could react, Radon had already rushed ahead, spreading his arms wide and addressing the native warriors:

"Hey, we mean no harm!"

He raised his palms and shook them vigorously to show his harmless intentions. The warriors, however, sneered in response:

"Little brat! Get lost!"

"Immature child! Don't speak!"

"How do they know he's not an adult?" Cirilla whispered. Garrett, standing on tiptoes to peer ahead, replied without turning his head:

"Maybe because he doesn't have tattoos on his face or hasn't painted it. Radon mentioned he's still undergoing the coming-of-age trials... Maybe you need to complete those trials and earn the status of an adult warrior to deal with these matters?"

During the month-and-a-half voyage, Garrett had brought along numerous materials about the New World, occasionally reading them to refresh his mind when not studying spells. Although he couldn't distinguish between the various tribes yet, he had a general understanding of the situation.

As the two whispered, a commotion erupted ahead. Radon waved his hands and raised his voice:

He turned and pointed to the mountain peak, then fiercely gestured towards the group of brightly colored adult warriors:

"You brute force idiots, show the High Shaman the respect he deserves!"

Uh...

Garrett painfully suspected that his spell of Comprehend Languages might be translating incorrectly, or that the New World natives called all spellcasters shamans or high shamans.

But one cannot undermine one's own group. Garrett pointed to the side, and a burst of fire shot out, extending ten meters before gradually dissipating, leaving the air hot and distorted.

Then, with another wave of his hand, a shimmering white orb floated down and landed on Radon, immediately healing the cracks and frostbite on his earlobes and fingers.

"I am a healer," he declared loudly. "We just arrived here and are not the ones bringing the plague. We mean no harm. As long as you allow us to pass, we will not enter your settlement or contact anyone and will leave quickly."

The native warriors exchanged glances, their eyes lighting up brightly... Garrett suspected their eyes could focus and reflect the brightness of the healing orb tenfold.

The leader, a warrior with one side of his hair cut short to reveal his ear and the other side braided, pondered for a moment and then said in a low, buzzing voice:

"Wait here!"

He gave a few low commands, and a nearly bald warrior nodded and dashed off, evidently to report back. Seeing this, Garrett took a couple of steps back and leaned against a large tree he had previously selected, immersing himself in meditation.

Seize the moment and ask the tree for directions!

Mr. Troka returned in a daze, remembering only some very prominent landmarks! It's still more reliable to ask the trees along the way, which said they could remember his scent!

Come, tell me what is around here and where we should go next... Hmm?

Garrett's spiritual power extended continuously through the trees and shrubs. Pushing further, greeting the surrounding plants, suddenly, a very peculiar sensation appeared in his perception:

A bright spot.

A very conspicuous bright spot in the wilderness.

Not as bright as Cirilla, his teacher, or senior brothers and sisters, but solid and substantial. Standing there steadily, as if it had been there for centuries without wavering.

Surrounding the bright spot were firefly-like dots of light, flickering. Some were bright, some dim, some seemed almost extinguished... And the brightest spot suddenly enlarged, swaying as if it might go out.

Then, a light dot separated from the group, getting closer and closer...

"Honorable High Shaman!"

A loud shout broke Garrett's meditation. He abruptly opened his eyes to see the bald warrior, panting heavily, running from afar. Behind him, two other warriors followed, running non-stop with flushed faces despite their face paint.

"Honorable High Shaman!" The bald warrior halted five steps from Garrett, braked sharply, and bowed deeply:

"Our High Shaman Hasaba requests you come to our tribe! Many are sick! Very, very many! Hasaba has no means to help and instructed us to seek your aid!"

Garrett: "..."

As expected, healing magic is in high demand everywhere.

He nodded slightly, and the two warriors behind rushed forward, bowing and turning to present an object. The bald warrior and the previous leader with the long braid both raised their hands in gesture:

Garrett looked at the object, which seemed like a palanquin... Well, a piece of black leather tightly stretched between two wooden poles. It could be called a palanquin, or perhaps a litter or stretcher?

So, they wanted to carry him to their camp? Garrett twitched his mouth, conjured Phantom Steeds for himself and Baronsimo, and mounted them:

"Lead the way!"

The Phantom Steeds galloped towards the setting sun, quickly reaching the tribe's settlement. In the dusk, Garrett saw a middle-aged man from afar, wearing a feathered crown, a brightly colored, feathered and beaded leather robe, hurrying towards them:

"Guests from afar! Please save the Redstone Tribe! A fierce demon is ravaging our people, and I am helpless!"

So, this was the tribe's... High Shaman?

Garrett felt as if he was back on the northern wastelands, seeing the elders of those barbarian tribes. Oh, maybe they should be called shamans? He quickly put on his protective gear, raised a hand in a "stop" gesture:

"High Shaman of the Redstone Tribe, please take me to see them. As a healer, I am willing to do my part for the sick."

The middle-aged man bowed and hurriedly led him inside. Soon, Garrett saw the tribe's settlement.

A small cluster of round houses, just a bit taller than a person's head. Similar in size to small yurts, with two tree trunks supporting a possible reed mat awning, serving as a porch roof.

Garrett followed the middle-aged man inside, where the house perimeter had a platform a foot above the ground, covered with dry grass and furs. Two or three patients lay there, while others busily wiped them, brought water, comforted, and sang...

"Why are they all crowded together?"

Garrett stepped in and immediately stepped out:

"Get them all out! Isolate them separately! Such a contagious disease, how can they be huddled together!"

"But," the High Shaman of the Redstone Tribe said blankly:

"When someone is in distress, their loved ones should accompany them, give them strength! If we all abandon them, how can they escape the demon's clutches?"

Garrett closed his eyes in pain.

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