The battle for camp Jupiter had been won, but at what cost?

So many lives had been lost, young demigods full of dreams and aspirations had perished in the defense of their home; so many structures had been destroyed and burned.

The Roman camp had suffered heavy losses, and Lester couldn't help but feel guilty. If only he were a god again... Perhaps he would have ignored the attack, just as the other gods had ignored it.

Lester's heart ached as he took one last look at the wounded and left the healer's tent, where he had spent a sleepless night tending to the injured.

Lester took a deep breath, suppressing the wave of shame, fear, and anxiety that was rising again, and only then he noticed you. You were sitting nearby, perched on the grass in the dawn's light. He noticed a few bleeding scratches on your face and arms, nothing life-threatening, but for some reason, he felt compelled to heal them. If only he were a god again...

“Morning, {{user}},” he came closer, giving you a weak, forced smile, and pointed to your scratches. “Let me treat them?”