Chapter 5 Commander Georgia

Evangeline,

"Commander Georgia!"

Several soldiers straightened instantly as though they had seen a ghost. Every soldier immediately turned, stopping whatever they were doing.

A group of She-Wolf soldiers stood behind her like bodyguards, their expressions filled with smugness.

I scanned her. Commander Georgia.

She was tall and undeniably beautiful, with pale skin and long blonde hair tied neatly behind her back. Her uniform rested perfectly against her body without a single wrinkle. Judging by her flawless appearance, she barely looked like someone who spent time beneath the brutal sun outside.

She was gorgeous. Undoubtedly.

"Commander Georgia, this is one of our gifted students. She needs to be—" one of the professors tried to explain,

"Gifted?" she interrupted coldly. "This is the Death Corridor, an Imperial Training Arena under the authority of the Imperium and ruled by the Chef-in-law himself. No one is exempt from the law here."

Her voice carried the commanding tone that could easily force people into obedience.

Everyone's faces turned pale at the mention of the Warlord. The Chef-in-law of this place. Their Lord.

"What were you all doing when she walked in holding garbage inside a restricted area?"

I barely heard her. My attention locked onto the tent again.

The smell of blood was getting darker and heavier. Flesh was rotting. Death was getting closer. The wounds were more than a week old.

My stomach tightened painfully. My strength was already low. Each passing second would drain more of it, and I had zero confidence that I could heal him before flesh-eating bacteria started destroying his limbs.

She noticed my distraction immediately, her sharp eyes narrowing.

"You. State your name." Her tone dripped with authority and disdain.

I ignored her and started walking toward the tent. Whatever strength I had left, I needed to control the bleeding and slow the muscle decay as quickly as possible.

Otherwise, the limb would need to be amputated.

Gasps instantly spread around us. Sharp and horrified, as though they had witnessed something impossible. Something worthy of punishment.

"Oh my god. What is she doing?"

"Did she just ignore Commander Georgia?"

The whispers rippled through the crowd, but they sounded distant to me. Muffled. Meaningless.

Every second felt like slow poisoning.

I tried healing the wound without even seeing it properly.

But to my shock, several soldiers suddenly grabbed my arms and forced me down violently, my knees crashing against the muddy ground with a painful thud. Cold mud instantly soaked through my clothes.

"How dare you ignore the Commander's order?"

Around me, the professors and students stared with visible disappointment as though I had committed something unforgivable.

However, a calm yet controlled voice suddenly spoke behind me.

"Commander Georgia, I am Daniel Adams, a neurology student. This is Evangeline Deveraux."

He introduced himself before pointing toward the tent.

"I think she may have sensed an injured person inside. That's why she reacted this way."

While everyone focused on him, I closed my eyes tightly and concentrated on the blood.

Clotting it quickly while healing the torn veins, flesh, and damaged tissues would consume enormous energy. Sweat slowly gathered at the back of my neck as exhaustion crept through my body little by little. My wolf had stayed quiet until now, but even she was struggling beneath the overwhelming strain.

"You've got to be kidding me right now. There is no injured person inside that tent. All patients were already transferred to the emergency room," a female soldier scoffed mockingly.

"There is," I finally spoke.

My voice barely rose above a whisper, yet the certainty within it silenced several people nearby.

"And he will die within two minutes if he isn't treated."

"Take her into custody." Georgia's voice turned glacial. "False claims during an emergency are treated as serious offenses."

She looked down at me with cold disgust.

"The Imperium does not tolerate attention seekers."

Something about her reaction didn't feel right. She immediately shifted toward public humiliation instead of questioning the situation itself. Why?

I glanced at her quietly. Her heartbeat had quickened. Was she aware that someone was indeed inside, or was she simply afraid of being humiliated publicly after overreacting?

Human psychology had never been my cup of tea. It messed with my brain.

The tent suddenly burst open.

"It's Commander Ivan!" A soldier stumbled out breathlessly, panic written all over his face. "Commander Georgia... she was right. He is heavily injured."

Silence descended over the entire area. A few people gasped softly, disbelief washing over their faces. Their hearts pounded violently against their ribs.

"Someone inform the Lord immediately. Commander Ivan has been found," he announced.

Commander Georgia walked toward the tent, surprise flashing across her expression. However, the moment she pulled the entrance open, all the color drained from her face.

"Ivan!"

"Call the Lord. It's urgent!"

"It's impossible." Commander Georgia raised her hand sharply, forcing everyone into silence. Her voice returned calm and controlled. "The Warlord is currently in a crucial meeting with the Alpha of Astrid. The rogues are planning another attack."

She turned toward me, looking down at me.

"You... Can you treat him? If you save Commander Ivan, I will personally arrange proper accommodations for you inside the Imperium."

I didn't care about her words. I pushed the guards away from me, walked toward the discarded sandwich, and picked it up. One edge had touched the dirt. I pinched that part off before shoving the rest into my mouth.

Laughter instantly rippled from the group of girls standing behind Georgia.

"Even now, she can't stop eating."

"Is she seriously thinking about food at a time like this?"

"She'll burst if she keeps eating like that."

"Keep quiet!" Georgia snapped sharply, her eyes darting toward the girls. The irritation in her voice immediately silenced them.

I walked past her. But before stepping inside the tent, I whispered quietly,

"As a reward, give me a room with a kitchen. I don't need anything else."

I walked straight into the tent. He looked to be around his mid-thirties. Deep claw marks stretched brutally across his chest while one of his legs had almost been shredded apart by bites.

The smell of infected flesh was suffocating inside the enclosed space.

I crouched down and closed my eyes. My mind focused entirely on the wounds.

This power had no scientific explanation. Telepathy? Telekinesis? I had no idea. But I could feel everything. The damaged muscle fibers. The ruptured blood vessels. The spreading inflammation beneath the skin.

"Is he going to be alright?" Commander Georgia asked from outside. Since the tent was too small, she couldn't enter.

I didn't reply.

However, just as I was almost done stabilizing him, an announcement suddenly rang through the entire area, deafening everyone.

"Code Black. Code Black. A group of Rogues has attacked the Chef-in-law's meeting room. All medics must gather at the Imperial Court immediately. All guards are ordered to capture Warrior Mark, Batch No. 34678. He will be executed within thirty hours."

It paused briefly before repeating again,

"Once again, all medics must gather at the Imperial Court immediately. Failure to comply will be treated as severe negligence."

Seemed like I had to face the Lycan Warlord after all.