Next, he took out a hammer and smashed the base of his fingers.
Next are the shins, elbows, and knees. Around these points, the bandit faints, but you hit him to wake him up.
The work was done carefully so that no blood would be spilled.
The bandit, who had been screaming at first, only trembled when he saw Patrick after he was knocked out.
Even his own men were trembling.
'I'll tell you...I'll tell you!
'You don't have to tell me!ãI don't care if you hurt me more first. I'm trying so hard not to die, not to bleed out!ãI'm not done yet.
Without changing his expression, Patrick pulls out a bottle.
A potion.
It's a potion made by the elves. A potion that heals wounds instantly.
But for some reason, it doesn't work on serious, life-threatening conditions.
There are many theories, such as that it is not enough for life-threatening wounds to heal mental wounds, or that it is to protect the elves' demand for healing magic.
There is also a rumor that the elves sell only degraded versions of this rather expensive medicine to the humans, which they do not use themselves.
I used this medicine on three of my wounded men and treated them.
If you force the bandit's mouth open and make him drink the potion, he will be healed in no time.
'Well, let's do another round.
Patrick says with a refreshing smile.
'I will!ãLet me tell you.
'Hey, my company commander, you're scary.
'I'll never go against you.
'Me neither!
The voices of the soldiers who had been holding him down echoed quietly.