Chapter 379

"Next!" Luna White wiped the sweat from her brow, the silver needle glinting coldly between her fingers.

Lily Collins passed her the sterilized cotton with practiced ease. Their eyes met briefly before falling into their familiar rhythm. Without anesthesia, Luna's needles had become the most effective pain relief. The wounded soldier clenched his teeth, but his brow smoothed the moment the needle pierced his skin.

"Wound cleaned," Lily announced, her suturing needle moving with lifelike precision as she closed the gash.

Luna pressed gently against the soldier's wrist, feeling a warm current flow through her fingertips. She could sense his immune system activating—tiny lights flickering to life within his body.

The moment Andrew Smith's orderly was carried in, both women fell silent. The mangled stump where his limb had been made Luna's hands tremble slightly.

"I'll handle the bandaging," Lily said, taking the gauze with firm yet gentle hands.

Luna took a steadying breath and inserted the needle into precise pressure points to stem the bleeding. Regrowing limbs was beyond her—such miracles had to remain impossible, for now.

By dusk, when the last wounded soldier was carried away, Luna could barely stand. She dragged her exhausted body to the cave entrance, leaning against the damp rock wall as distant artillery fire pulsed like an unending symphony of death.

"Found you." Andrew's voice came from behind, warm and familiar.

She didn't open her eyes, but she recognized the scent of gunpowder and antiseptic clinging to him. Her supernatural ability was changing—the usual bone-chilling cold after healing now felt like spring thawing winter's grip.

"Here." A cold ration biscuit was pressed into her hand.

Luna opened her eyes, Andrew's face illuminated by the intermittent glow of explosions. His stubble had grown thicker, his eyes bloodshot yet still tender.

"Have you eaten?" She broke off a small piece, her voice hoarse from exhaustion.

"Two hours ago." He gazed at the distant fires. "The mess crew says hot meals might not reach us for days."

Luna chewed the dry biscuit and suddenly laughed. "Still better than field rations."

Andrew studied her pale face, hesitating. He wanted to send her away, yet couldn't bear to end this rare moment. In the artillery's glow, her profile looked like a fading oil painting.

"Your hands..." He suddenly grasped her icy fingers.

Her pulse jumped. There was something between them—every touch sent subtle ripples through her abilities. Now, the exhaustion was ebbing away.

"I'm fine," she murmured, but her fingers tightened around his.

A sudden barrage of explosions lit the night sky, drawing their gazes upward. This war was far from over.