I spotted Lynex stumbling into the makeshift camp, his figure barely visible through the thick smoke and clamor of the ongoing battle. The harsh noises of artillery and distant fighting seemed to fade as he drew nearer, his every step heavy with the weight of his injuries. His right eye, now a vacant, bloodied socket wrapped crudely in cloth. Despite the gruesome sight, Lynex carried himself with an unsettling nonchalance, treating the injury almost as a badge of honor.

My heart sank the moment I saw him. I dropped the bandages I was holding and rushed over.

Lynex gave a half-hearted smirk, “Just a scratch,” he said, wincing slightly as he shifted. “Nothing I can’t handle. Just a little extra decoration.”

I ignored his attempt to downplay his injuries and immediately set to work, my hands moving quickly but carefully. I removed the makeshift cloth, revealing the severe slashing that had left his right eye sightless.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I scolded, my voice trembling slightly with my fear. “You need to take care of yourself. This isn’t a trophy; it’s a serious injury.”

Lynex tried to offer a reassuring smile, but I wasn’t buying it. I grabbed a clean eyepatch from the medical kit and began to carefully place it over his injured eye. My hands shook slightly, but I kept my movements steady as I secured the patch.

He crossed his arms over his chest, the eyepatch making him look even more forlorn. “I’m fine, really,” he muttered, his voice carrying a petulant edge. “I’ve been through worse. Just let me get back out there.” He desperately wanted to go back to the battlefield.

He was pushing himself over, being stubborn as he ignores his own injuries. He doesn't care even if he lost an eye at the moment.