Chapter 26: Emergency Operations

Leo nodded. "If we don't act now, the infection will spread through his body. He will die."

The elderly woman who had spoken earlier bowed her head, struggling with her thoughts. "So... this isn't because the ancestors are angry?"

Alina offered a gentle smile. "This isn't a curse or punishment. It's simply how the body works. But we can still save him."

Leo added, "Imagine a tree. If one branch rots and is left unchecked, the decay will spread to the trunk and eventually kill the entire tree. The only way to save it is to cut off the rotten branch."

Some villagers seemed to be pondering his words.

"But... the human body isn't a tree," someone objected.

"You're right," Alina replied, "but our bodies work in a similar way. If dead tissue is left alone, its toxins will spread. Herbs can help in many ways, but they can't bring dead flesh back to life."

Silence fell over the group. Then, the village chief asked, "If you cut it off, will he still live?"

"Yes, as long as the infection hasn't spread to his organs," Leo said firmly. "We will make sure that doesn't happen."

They looked at the old man, who had weakly opened his eyes again. His lips moved, his voice barely audible.

"Do it..."

"We need a clean space and the right tools," Leo said.

"And we need permission to use our methods fully," Alina added.

The village chief nodded, then signaled for several men to assist them.

---

A few hours later, in a hut they had turned into an emergency treatment room, Leo and Alina prepared for the procedure. They had cleaned the wound as best they could, sterilized the surgical knife with fire, and mixed an antiseptic solution from their medical supplies.

The village chief stood in the corner, watching every movement with a tense expression. Outside, a few village elders whispered among themselves, still uncertain.

Leo took a deep breath. "Let's begin."

With careful precision, they started the amputation. Alina pressed down on the patient's wrist to slow the bleeding, while Leo worked swiftly. Each cut was precise, ensuring no dead tissue remained. Sweat dripped from their foreheads, but they stayed focused.

When the wound was finally stitched and bandaged, the room fell silent. Leo looked at the village chief. "Now, we wait to see if he's strong enough to survive."

Outside, villagers gathered, whispering among themselves. Some looked anxious, while others appeared curious.

A man approached the village chief. "What do we do now? If he survives... do we trust their knowledge?"

The chief gazed at the hut where Leo and Alina remained inside, monitoring the patient for any signs of worsening infection.

He did not answer immediately. In his heart, he knew this wasn't just about an old man and his leg. This was the beginning of something much bigger.

"We will see," he finally said. "If he lives... maybe we have something to learn from them."

The old man lay weakly, his breathing shallow, his body still burning with fever. The surgery had succeeded, but now the real battle began—fighting the infection and ensuring he survived.

Leo wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to Alina. "His fever is rising. We need to act fast."

Alina nodded and took out a small bottle of powdered antibiotics. "Let's give him antibiotics first to control the infection."

The villagers gathered outside the hut, whispering among themselves. Some looked worried, while others remained skeptical.

"You said this isn't a curse... but what if the ancestors are testing us?" an elderly woman murmured. "If he survives, it won't be because of their medicine, but because the ancestors have forgiven him."

Leo held his breath. He knew the deep-rooted fears in this village. This wasn't just about healing a man—it was about challenging beliefs passed down for generations.

"We are not asking you to abandon your ancestors," Alina said calmly. "We only want to use every method available to save him. Is there a plant you normally use to reduce fever?"

The old woman eyed her suspiciously but eventually replied, "Bitter leaf. We boil it for drinking."

Alina smiled. "Good, we will use it—but safely."

They worked quickly. Leo helped the old man swallow the antibiotics first. Alina asked a villager to boil the bitter leaf but explained that the herbal remedy should be given several hours after the antibiotics, not at the same time.

However, elsewhere in the village, not everyone was pleased with their presence. In a dimly lit hut, several village shamans had gathered, their faces grim.

"These city doctors bring new knowledge," muttered an old man in a low voice. "If people start believing them, we will lose everything."

"We cannot let that happen," another agreed. "They must leave before they destroy the village's balance."

One of them smirked. "Then we turn the village against them. We spread the word that the old man has been cursed and that if he survives, disaster will follow."

That night, rumors began to spread. Some villagers grew fearful, whispering among themselves and casting wary glances at the hut where Leo and Alina kept watch.

By morning, the old man stirred. His breathing was more stable, his fever had gone down. Though still weak, he opened his eyes.

A young man ran to the village chief's house. "He's alive!" he shouted.

But before the good news could spread, the village's ancient bell rang loudly. The shamans had gathered in the square, clad in their ritual robes. One of them stood atop a large stone, his voice echoing through the village.

"The ancestors have spoken!" he declared. "We have allowed foreign knowledge into our village, and look! The sky is dark, the wind whispers warnings! If we do not stop this, disaster will come!"

The villagers grew restless. Some believed the words, while others remained uncertain. Inside the hut, Alina and Leo heard the commotion outside.

"It seems they won't let us work in peace," Leo murmured.

Alina sighed. "Then we show them with proof. If the old man survives... they won't be able to deny it."

But they didn't know that a greater threat lurked in the shadows. The shamans didn't just want them gone—they wanted them gone for good.

Anger began to boil among the villagers. Fueled by the shamans' whispers, they marched toward the old hut on the edge of the village, where the old man rested. Shouts mixed with the pounding of feet against the ground.

Amid the chaos, the village chief remained silent. His face was tense, his eyes scanning the crowd as if weighing his choices. But his hesitation did not go unnoticed.

"Chief!" The raspy voice of the eldest shaman rang out. "Don't tell me you've been poisoned by these outsiders' lies!"

Several villagers shouted in agreement, their faces twisted with anger.

"We have lived by these traditions for generations!" another yelled. "Don't let them taint it!"

The pressure mounted. The villagers pushed the chief to act. In their eyes, there was demand, fury, and fear. The decision was his.

But before the chief could speak, Leo stepped forward.

"Please, listen to me!" he shouted, trying to break through the rising wave of anger.

He looked into the eyes of each shaman, scanning their expressions—doubt, conviction, and rage. But then his gaze landed on the eldest shaman.

Leo realized something. He was sick. This wasn't just about superstition or control. There was a real illness consuming him. But exposing this truth could be more dangerous than facing an angry mob.

Leo had to find a way to convince them.

And he had to do it before it was too late.