A Hospital in Another World?

Two strong right hands clasped tightly together.

Two warriors of not insignificant rank stood face to face, exerting force simultaneously. The sound of boots creaking could be heard as Garrett lowered his head, only to see the bricks under Prince Rothgar’s feet crack open with several fine lines.

"Shall we spar? Alright then!"

The prince answered with a laugh. As soon as he finished speaking, cheers erupted around them:

"Great!"

"Decisive!"

"Generous!"

Workers, onlookers, and those who followed the crowd to watch the excitement, a large group of dwarves clapped their hands, stomped their feet, and cheered loudly. Garrett lifted his head from observing a rabbit to look around, only to sigh:

Well, dwarves admire boldness and generosity. When challenged to a spar, one absolutely cannot show weakness!

Especially for a candidate in the selection battle for the king! It’s better to lose than to refuse!

Garrett and his rabbit were surrounded—or rather, carried—out. The location for the spar was not the great furnace—imagine that. What if the competition got heated, and a heavy blow sent someone flying into the great furnace? Even if a person didn’t fall in, a dropped hammer hitting the magma wouldn’t be retrievable, and that wouldn’t be good either!

The spar, no, the competition, no, the challenge, must decidedly take place at a professional site!

Fortunately, the military district wasn’t far from the forge. Large groups of people moved to the dueling arena, surrounding Rothgar and Kai from the Black Rock tribe tightly from all sides. Garrett, taking advantage of his height, watched them don their full armor, pick up blunt swords, and start sparring—

Clang, clang, clang.

Then, Garrett couldn’t follow anymore. All he heard was continuous encouragement, cheers, and shouting, mixed with the heavy noise of metal clashing, possibly reaching 120 decibels. The two dwarves exchanged blows, swinging their heavy swords with fierce momentum. With every collision, a wave of cheers erupted from the crowd.

"What’s the situation now?"

He leaned back and whispered to Bernard. Bernard, with a stern face, watched the arena for a while before shaking his head:

"I’m afraid we’re losing."

"What?! How?" Garrett was startled. They seemed evenly matched!

"He’s losing his breath."

Garrett still couldn’t see it. Breath, unless he got close enough to count respirations or, perhaps, had a vital signs monitor. But the dwarves around them were already restless, the cheers gradually softening, followed by whispering and murmuring—

Clang!

The two heavy swords collided. Prince Rothgar’s sword skewed to the side, and he also slipped half a step, leaving himself wide open. Kai of the Black Rock tribe, however, took the opportunity to step forward, grasping his long sword tightly and aiming it at the prince’s chest.

"I lost."

Prince Rothgar dropped his heavy sword, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and gasped for air, shaking his head. Though he admitted defeat, there was no dejection in his demeanor; he looked directly at his opponent without flinching. Opposite him, Kai also casually inserted the tip of his sword into the ground, stepped forward, and extended his hand:

"You are a very strong warrior. In a month, I look forward to facing you again."

Their hands clasped tightly together, shaking up and down. Then, Prince Rothgar collected his weapons and armor, squeezed out of the crowd, and called to his team:

"Let’s go!"

Having lost, they naturally had no right to occupy the forge anymore. The squad, dragging six mining carts, collectively turned around and headed to another forge. After a long walk, they entered the forge and closed the door behind them, at which point Gavin muttered quietly:

"Really! Knowing we worked all night, they still chose this time to challenge us!"

"Don’t say that." Prince Rothgar, finally catching his breath, smiled and shook his head:

"He is indeed stronger than me. Our strength and skills are similar, but his breath is steadier, and his stamina is better than mine—"

"That’s because he hasn’t been mining!" Gavin interjected. "Mining and smithing all day, in dust and smoke, who can keep their breath strong? He, who roams the outdoors daily, comparing stamina with miners, is shameless!"

"But what do we do now?" Hanna asked solemnly. The master blacksmith had been squinting towards the furnace, occasionally stretching his hand out to swiftly wave it above the magma:

"Without the forge, melting all this ore on time will be difficult. Should we forge fewer pieces? But if your stamina is less than his, wearing less armor will be even more disadvantageous in battle…"

The dwarves gathered, whispering among themselves. Some suggested forging fewer pieces, others proposed altering the design of the helmets or breastplates, and some even suggested that Prince Rothgar should lighten his workload and rest up for a while. As the discussion went on, without any clear agreement, their gaze collectively shifted towards Garrett.

"Hey, Mage, do you have any bright ideas?"

Garrett had been squatting in a corner, observing the rabbit. Its breathing was normal, temperature was normal, no foam at the mouth, no lethargy... It seemed the surgery was quite successful. Alas, if only the rabbit could communicate, if only it could be used to measure lung capacity...

He looked up upon being called. After pondering for a moment and looking at the molten lava, he said:

"I do have a method for smelting the ore, but I’m not sure if it’ll work. It’s the same idea I had when smelting mithril ore, inserting a pipe into the lava to blow air. Gavin, have you heard Master Talbert mention it? If you have, could you explain it to them?"

"I’ve heard, I’ve heard! Let me explain!"

Gavin immediately jumped up. He gestured with his hands, then crouched on the ground to spread a layer of ore sand, scribbling and sketching. The group of dwarves was skeptical, especially Hanna, who nodded at times and shook his head at others, unable to make up his mind. Garrett thought for a moment and began to take out various items from his space bag:

A hand-cranked generator, a mercury arc rectifier, an oxygen electrolysis cell, oxygen tubes...

He had been carrying these items everywhere for his alveolar lavage experiments. Now, he set them up one by one, instructing Bernard to crank the generator and Faelmor and Hanna to drag the oxygen tubes carefully close to the molten lava. Pure oxygen hissed out, and immediately above the lava, a white flame rose.

Hanna’s eyes, which had been squinting, suddenly widened, his eyelids lifted, making his narrow eyes appear much larger. He almost rushed to the front of the magma pool, extending his hand to test the airflow. His hand hadn’t even gotten close when it trembled violently:

"This will work! This is exactly the kind of fire we need!—Can it be made bigger, though? This flame is too small, not enough for our needs!"

"Well..."

Garrett looked silently at the hand-cranked generator, then at Bernard, who was laboriously cranking the handle:

"We’ll need to move to a different location..."

From where they came, they returned. The group of seven, dragging the ore, went back to the steam engine, setting up shop once more. This time, the rotor of the hand-cranked generator was connected to a much more powerful source of energy.

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