CHAPTER 47: INTEGRATION PART 1

Ragna’s ears angled forward. Mira’s fingers tightened around the hem of her sleeve. Lyris met his gaze, searching for any sign of threat behind the calm words.

Ward broke the silence first.

"Relax. Nobody’s shoving you into a uniform today," he said. "Integration just means figuring out where you fit into all of this."

"All of... what?" Mira asked.

Albert gestured around them. "This base. This region. The larger situation with the Demon Lord. You three are the first organized locals we’ve spoken to who aren’t goblins, raiders, or panicked villagers. That makes you valuable."

Ragna raised a brow. "Valuable how? As soldiers?"

"Not yet," Albert said. "As guides. Translators. Cultural anchors. People who know how your world actually works when it isn’t on fire."

Mira exhaled slowly. "What does this ’integration’ require from us?"

Albert nodded once to Ward. "First step is standard. Medical check. Baseline data. No needles bigger than a dagger, I promise."

Ragna’s tail stilled. "Needles?"

Mira grimaced. "Healers use needles. For stitching. Sometimes for poisons."

"We use them for medicine and blood tests," Ward said. "You’ll be fine."

"That sentence doesn’t sound reassuring," Ragna muttered.

Albert turned toward the nearest building. "You want to work with us, we need to understand your physiology. Strength. Endurance. Basic vitals. That’s phase one. Phase two is evaluation—skills, combat capability, magic demonstration. Phase three is assignment."

Lyris tilted her head. "Assignment to what?"

"To Atlas," Albert said simply. "Not as prisoners. As contracted allies."

Ragna blinked. "You hire adventurers?"

"We hire whoever can do the job," Ward said. "You already think like a party. That’s a good start."

Lyris exchanged a look with Mira and Ragna. They didn’t answer yet.

Albert didn’t push.

"Think while we walk," he said. "If you don’t like what you see by the end of the day, you’re free to return to the capital. Under escort."

"Under guard, you mean," Ragna said.

"Under protection," Albert corrected. "Plenty out there would love to learn everything you’ve seen today by cutting it out of you."

That shut her up.

They headed toward a squat, white-paneled building with a red cross symbol mounted above the door. Compared to the towering warehouses and roaring workshops, it looked almost plain—quiet, contained.

Mira eyed the symbol. "Is that a holy mark?"

"Medical," Ward replied. "Our healers, except they use science instead of miracles."

Ragna frowned. "I like miracles."

"You’ll like antibiotics more," Ward said.

They stepped inside.

The air temperature dropped a few degrees. It smelled faintly of alcohol, clean linen, something sharp and sterile. Beds lined the room in neat rows, some occupied by off-duty soldiers hooked up to clear bags of fluid. Machines beeped and hummed softly.

A woman in scrubs glanced up from a chart. Short hair. Sharp eyes. No armor, no weapons.

"Commander," she said. "These are the locals?"

"First contact from the capital," Albert confirmed. "We need basic workups. No sedation unless they get stupid."

Ragna squinted. "I can hear you."

"Good," the woman said dryly. "Means the ears work. I’m Dr. Hayes. Sit on the beds. Shirts stay on unless I say otherwise. We’re checking heart rate, blood pressure, body temperature, sample of blood, reflex tests, that sort of thing."

Mira leaned toward Lyris. "Do you know what any of that means?"

"Not a word," Lyris murmured. "But we’ve let worse people poke us with sticks in backwater clinics."

Ragna eyed the nearest bed like it might bite her. "If anyone shoves something in my tail, I’m hitting them."

"No tail procedures," Hayes said without looking up. "Yet."

They sat.

Atlas staff moved with efficient speed. A nurse strapped a cuff around Lyris’s arm. It tightened. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away.

"What is this supposed to do?" she asked.

"Measure how hard your heart is pushing blood," the nurse answered. "You’re fine. You’ll feel slight pressure."

Ragna’s nurse pulled out a syringe. The werebeast’s eyes narrowed.

"That’s a needle," Ragna said.

"That’s a small needle," the nurse replied. "We’ll draw a little blood. That’s all."

Ragna rolled her shoulders. "If I don’t like it, I’m biting someone."

"Your file will say ’uncooperative patient,’" Hayes said. "And I’ll make every future visit twice as annoying."

Ragna thought about that, then grudgingly held out her arm.

The needle slid in.

She didn’t flinch. Her jaw tightened, but she watched the vial fill with dark red with open curiosity.

"You’re taking blood," she said.

"Yes," the nurse replied. "We’ll see what’s normal for your kind."

"My kind?"

"Werebeast. You’re not human. Your numbers will be different."

Ragna blinked. "You can tell that just from... blood?"

"Give us a few hours and a microscope," Hayes said. "We’ll tell you more about yourself than your healer ever did."

Mira’s turn came next. She watched the syringe like it was a magical artifact.

"Do you reuse these?" she asked suddenly.

"No," the nurse said. "Single use. Open, use, discard. Prevents infection."

"Your world worries about that?" Mira asked.

"Constantly."

Lyris endured the tests with the calmness of someone who had been stitched up in roadside inns and muddy fields. The clamp on her finger for pulse, the cold disk on her chest for heart listening, even the needle didn’t rattle her. What did catch her attention were the numbers appearing on the monitor.

"Those symbols," she said, nodding at the screen. "They change when my heart beats faster."

"That’s the point," Hayes said. "It tells us how your body responds to stress."

"You can see stress on a board?" Lyris asked.

Hayes shrugged. "Some of it. The rest is in your face."

Fifteen minutes later, it was done.

Hayes flipped through the tablet, skimming the data. "Vitals are within expected range for humanoids. Beastkin reads a little high on muscle density, which tracks. Elf has lower body temperature, also tracks. Human is... human. No immediate problems."

"No curses?" Mira asked, half-joking, half-serious.

"If curses mess with blood chemistry, we’ll find out by tomorrow," Hayes said. "Until then, don’t lick any unknown fluids. That’s my only advice."

Ragna made a face. "Who does that?"

"Children," Hayes said. "Drunk soldiers. Idiots. We have plenty of all three."

Albert nodded to her. "Thank you, Doc."

"Try not to let them get shot on day one and I’ll be thrilled," she replied.

They stepped out of the medical wing and back into the noise and heat of the base.

Ragna rolled her arm. "That wasn’t so bad. I’ve had worse from cheap healers in back alleys."

Mira adjusted her sleeve. "They knew what they were doing. Without magic. That’s... unsettling."

"Get used to it," Ward said. "You’ll be seeing a lot of that."