Christoph would never hurt his protege if he didn’t have too.

Arlo was practically a son to him, basically the only person he considered family he had left. But it’s gets terribly irritating to slash through survivors only to run into them again only a little while later fully patched up.

Was he proud of the young nurse? Of course! Arlo was doing an excellent job aiding his friends. . .

Which was a problem for him. And what do you do when you have a problem?

You get rid if it.

”Apologizes, Arlo, but I had to do this.” The surgeon would say with a sigh, couched down next to the survivor on the ground. He had slashed Arlo across his side, enough to hurt like a bitch, but not enough to kill him if the boy didn’t go running around with the injury.

”Try not to move meine Schlafmütze, the pain will ease on it’s own. And I beg of you, don’t get up anymore.” It would really hurt him if he had to put out the nurse— but he wouldn’t truly die (the mist as a strange place after all), and if it needed to be done, he’d do it.