The drive wasn’t going as smoothly as I’d hoped, but honestly, it was about what I expected. The cargo pallets strapped tightly to the back didn’t budge, which was reassuring, and the massive tires gripped the road well—probably because I hadn’t hit any real off-road terrain yet. Still, the sheer size of the truck made handling... challenging, to put it mildly.
I ended up drifting off the road more than twice, though the transition was so smooth I barely felt it. If it weren’t for the edge markers vanishing from sight, I might not have even realized the truck had left the pavement. The vehicle’s design practically shrugged off uneven surfaces, its suspension swallowing bumps and dips like they didn’t exist. Great for the cargo, I thought. It’s not so great for my sense of direction.
Occasionally, I passed by soldiers on the road, stationed in their armored vehicles. Some of the vehicles had large turrets mounted on top, while others sported .50 caliber machine guns. It dawned on me that these vehicles were likely my main form of escort, even if none of them were actively following me from behind. Their presence ahead and along the road gave me some reassurance that the route was at least somewhat secure.
The big truck had a hard time detecting the small slimes scuttling across the concrete road, and as a result, I found myself racking up accidental experience points every now and then. Each bump under the massive tires earned me a measly ten EXP—sometimes twenty if I happened to squash a cluster. It wasn’t much, but hey, free EXP was free EXP.
The GPS map on the dashboard was a lifesaver, guiding me across the seemingly endless expanse of grassland. True to its name, the grassland was just that—grass, stretching out as far as the eye could see. An occasional tree broke up the view, but the loud, relentless rumble of the diesel engine at my back drowned out everything else.
After two hours of driving, the stretched-out concrete road gave way to a paved dirt road. I glanced at the fuel gauge out of curiosity, barely seeing any movement. Then again, with a tank holding hundreds of liters, it made sense that the needle wasn’t budging much.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel reassured by the sight of multiple jerry cans of diesel strapped to the roof rack. Guess whoever prepared this truck knew exactly how long these trips could get, I thought, giving the fuel gauge another glance before turning my attention back to the road.
The dirt road didn’t last long before I felt the tires hitting something softer. The truck crawled forward without a care, but the ride shifted dramatically as the once bumpy road turned slippery and muddy.
The massive tires churned through the muck effortlessly, the truck’s weight and design keeping it from sinking too deep. Great, I thought, gripping the wheel tighter as the mud splattered against the truck’s sides.
Guess we’re really playing Mudrunner now.
The muddy road eventually gave way to the edge of a small forest. Two armored vehicles were already waiting for me, with eight soldiers standing nearby. One of them stepped forward, signaling for me to stop the truck. I brought it to a halt, the engine idling loudly as he gestured for me to wait.
Moments later, the lead vehicle—a JLTV equipped with an M2 remote turret—moved into position at the front. It rumbled forward into the forest, clearing the path ahead, and I followed closely behind in the truck. Another armored vehicle, likely meant to ensure the cargo’s safety, pulled in behind me.
We didn’t speak, not a single word was exchanged between me and the soldiers. The only sound was the rumble of engines and the squelch of tires against the muddy forest trail. As we moved deeper into the woods, my eyes caught a detail on their uniforms—a flag of white, blue, and red. It might’ve been the Federation’s flag.
Who exactly is the Federation, anyway? I wondered. They seemed to supply a lot of resources, but their presence always felt… distant, almost impersonal. I didn’t have time to dwell on it before the radio in the truck cracked to life.
“Hey, contractor, are you there? Over?” a gruff voice came through.
I fumbled with the mic for a moment before responding. “Yes, I’m here. Over?” I wasn’t entirely sure how I was supposed to reply using proper radio etiquette.
“Alright,” the voice continued, “keep your truck tight to my arse. This forest is crawling with corrupted inhabitants.”
“Uh… ok?” I replied, a bit unsure how else to answer.
The voice chuckled, lightening the tension. “Don’t worry, girl. I know you’re nervous, but we’ve guarded plenty of newbies like you before. Just stay close, and you’ll be fine.”
Comforting, I guess? The lead vehicle’s turret rotated steadily, its mounted thermal camera scanning the treeline with methodical precision. No bullets were flying, which I took as a good sign, but the silence felt heavy.
The road was just wide enough for two vehicles side-by-side, but that was it. Its condition left much to be desired—barely maintained, with a slippery layer of mud that made anything without proper mud tires an absolute nightmare to navigate. The truck’s massive wheels handled it well, but I could see how a regular vehicle would be hopelessly out of its depth.
Note to self: If I’m buying a vehicle in the future, it better be a fucking Hilux.
The trees closed in above us, their dense branches forming a natural canopy that filtered the faint light into scattered patches on the muddy road. The road branched off in several directions as we moved deeper, each path vanishing into the shadows between the trees. I kept my focus on the lead vehicle, sticking close behind it and trusting their knowledge of the terrain.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The lead vehicle finally arrived at a military outpost, its perimeter fortified with Hesco barriers and spirals of barbed wire. The defensive setup was clearly designed to deter and withstand any potential assault. It had the unmistakable look of a military outpost, despite being located in the middle of a forest requiring 10x10 truck driving for four hours in total.
Tents of varying sizes were scattered across the area, housing everything from command centers to sleeping quarters. I could see the soldiers patrolling and running, alongside several light tactical vehicles parked inside the outpost.
“Park the truck near that white tent, girl, then it’ll be done,” the radio said to me.
I carefully parked the truck near a large white tent that looked like a medical station—or at least, that’s what I thought at first. But as I stepped out of the truck with my rifles and got a better look inside, it was clear this wasn’t a typical medical tent.
Instead of wounded soldiers lying on cots, I saw lifeless bodies laid out on tables, their pale and torn forms being tended to by a team of necromancers. The faint hum of psionic energy filled the air as the necromancers worked to heal the shredded tissue and mend broken bones.
“Did they do that to my body?” I asked myself that question.
[Deliver Medical Supplies for 25th Assault Regiment: 1/1]
[Quest Complete: +10,000 UC, +1,500 Exp]
[Level Up: 3 → 5]
[16 Status Points Available]
[2 Skill & Perks Points Available]
I decided to put off leveling up for the moment and approached the medical tent, curiosity tugging at me. Strangely, the soldiers guarding the entrance didn’t stop me. Maybe they recognized my healer class and assumed I was here to help, or perhaps they were just too busy to care. Either way, I wasn’t about to question it.
The healers were working overtime, frantically mending the dead bodies laid out on crude medical tables. They stitched and patched up wounds either with medical supplies or with their healing spells.
I barely had time to take it all in before a voice barked at me. “Don’t just fucking stand around, you stupid! Help us!” a healer snapped.
[Clara - Assault Healer - Level 35]
Caught off guard by the rudeness, I hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. “Alright, what do you need?” I asked, trying not to let their tone get to me.
“Start stabilizing that one over there!” she shouted, pointing to a torn-up body that looked more like a jigsaw puzzle than a human, with legs inside of a cool box and arms barely stitched.
“Stabilizing???”
“Yes, stabilizing! For fuck’s sake, is this your first time?” the healer shouted again.
Not wanting to seem completely useless, I acted as though I understood what they meant. I approached the table and placed my hand on what I assumed was a stitched-up arm—or at least, what was meant to be an arm. It was barely recognizable, resembling a hastily assembled lump of human meat. The stitching was crude, holding the mangled flesh together in a creepy way.
Swallowing my doubt, I applied my healing spell to the arm. A faint glow emanated from my hand as the spell took effect. To my surprise—and slight horror—the skin began to wrap itself around the injury site. The jagged edges smoothed out, muscles realigned, and the severed hand slowly reshaped into something resembling a regular human hand.
I swear, this world has things way too easy. Bullet wounds that healed up just by applying your hand on top of it? Are you really serious? So, war doesn’t have any consequences or what? I swear, treating this world like a game made much more sense.
“The fuck what???” I couldn’t help but react.
As I finished mending the grotesque arm, another healer approached me. This one stood out—tall, with a calm demeanor and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. A stethoscope hung loosely around his neck. Without a word, he handed me a metallic tray filled with tools: sutures, bandages, bottles of Betadine, scalpels, and other essentials. A glowing nameplate above his head caught my eye:
[David - Demonic Necromancer - Level 75]
“Sorry about her,” he said with a small smile, nodding in the direction of the head nurse. “She’s… well, tense. Happens when you’ve been at this for too long.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the tray and pulling out a scalpel.
“External contractors, huh? Where are you from, Ludmilla?” He asked.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Simple,” David said with a small smirk, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You show up here with a truck, waltz into this tent, and our head nurse—bless her fiery temper—reads your healer class. With the sheer force of her wrath, she somehow manages to convince you to help her.”
I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at his dry humor. “Yeah, convincing is one way to put it. More like yelling me into submission.”
David chuckled, a faint smile still on his face. “She has her ways. Trust me, you’re not the first. Won’t be the last, either.”
“Yeah,” I shrugged, not giving it much thought.
“Where are you from?” David asked, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity.
“Ludmilla,” I replied, raising an eyebrow. “I told you before, no?”
“No,” he clarified, leaning slightly closer. “I mean, whereas in your past life. You’re definitely someone who’s used to holding scalpels and blades—way more than the average healer class. And don’t even try to lie,” he added, his glasses catching a faint glow, “your soul practically screams that you’re reincarnated.”
Motherfucker, what? My brain stalled for a moment, trying to process the absurdity of what he’d just said. How the hell does he know that? I thought, staring at him with a mix of confusion and suspicion.
“You must be wondering, Who’s this stranger, why does he know so much, yada yada yada." David’s smile widened as he gestured casually. "Well, to clear the air—I’m a necromancer, Ain, and I’m from Earth, too.”
“Same as you are,” I replied, narrowing my eyes slightly.
“Oh… Earth,” he said, tilting his head slightly in thought. “Well, enjoy your stay here, then,” David continued with an easy grin. “You can’t die, you’re associated with being a contractor, so... I’d say it’s worth going YOLO every now and then if you catch my drift.”
I blinked at him, still processing the fact that he casually dropped not only his knowledge of my reincarnation but also his strange brand of advice. “YOLO, huh?” I muttered, unsure if he was joking or completely serious.
“Exactly,” he said, the smile never faltering. “When death is a revolving door, you might as well make the most of it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, unsure if his advice was comforting or unsettling.
“And when you’re bored of all the excitement,” David added with a knowing smirk, “feel free to settle into the boring, mundane jobs. Like me.” He gave a small chuckle, then turned, pushing his cart toward a cluster of other healers who were busily treating more patients.
I watched him go, his calm demeanor a strange contrast to the chaos around him. With the supplies in my hands and the image of the strange necromancer lingering in my thoughts, I turned back to the stitched-up body in front of me.