“Adaptation is key to survival. But sometimes, survival is just pure dumb luck.”
Dr. Viraj Mehta had many problems right now.
For one, he was still stuck in 218 BCE, trapped in Hannibal Barca’s war camp.
Two, he had accidentally convinced one of the greatest military minds in history that he was a skilled healer and scholar, which was only half true (and mostly by accident).
Three, and perhaps most importantly, he had absolutely no idea how to function in an ancient military camp.
Sure, he had seen war movies. He had read about ancient battles. But actually living in a war camp? That was an entirely different nightmare.
Rule #1: Try Not to Look Suspicious (Too Late for That, But Still)
Hannibal’s soldiers were watching him like a hawk.
Everywhere Viraj went, people stared at his strange clothes, his odd way of speaking, and the fact that he had appeared out of nowhere.
It didn’t help that his lab coat had gotten so filthy it now looked like an ancient tunic—just one that no self-respecting soldier would ever wear.
Viraj muttered to himself, walking carefully through the camp, trying his best to blend in (which was impossible).
Observation #1: Ancient People Were Really Built Differently
As he walked past rows of soldiers practicing with spears, Viraj came to a deeply concerning realization.
These guys were massive.
Like, Greek-statue-meets-action-movie-hero massive.
Men with scarred arms and broad shoulders swung swords like they were playing with sticks, while younger recruits trained in brutal hand-to-hand combat.
Viraj, on the other hand, had zero combat experience, questionable upper body strength, and an alarming tendency to panic when faced with sharp objects.
He made a mental note: Avoid fights at all costs.
Rule #2: Find a Useful Skill (Besides Lying Badly)
Viraj needed a way to stay valuable in the camp without accidentally revealing his lack of real medical expertise.
His options were limited:
Strategy & math? Too risky—Hannibal already had brilliant tacticians.
Engineering? He could explain basic physics, but that wouldn’t help much here.
Medicine? He needed to study the ancient methods fast before he made a deadly mistake.
Which meant he needed to find the real doctors.
Observation #2: Ancient Medicine Was... Horrifying
After a few hours of wandering, Viraj finally found the war medics' tent—and immediately regretted it.
Inside, men were treating gruesome battlefield injuries using tools that looked more suited for torture than healing.
One medic was applying honey to a wound (which, to Viraj’s surprise, was actually a good antiseptic). Another was draining an infected leg wound with a knife (which made Viraj want to pass out).
Then there was the leeches.
A soldier groaned in pain as a medic placed several leeches on his arm, mumbling something about "balancing the humors."
Viraj resisted the urge to scream.
Medicine in 218 BCE was essentially 20% science, 30% wild guesses, and 50% pure suffering.
Rule #3: Avoid Getting Stabbed (Or Stabbed Again, If Necessary)
While Viraj was trying not to vomit, one of the medics—a wiry older man named Marcellus—noticed him.
“You,” Marcellus called. “You’re the new healer, yes?”
Viraj nodded hesitantly. “Something like that.”
Marcellus gestured toward a soldier with an arrow wound in his shoulder. “Then help.”
Viraj froze.
Oh. No. Not again.
The injured soldier glared at Viraj like he was expecting an immediate solution.
Viraj forced himself to think.
Okay. He had seen enough movies to know the basics of arrow wounds:
1. Don’t just pull the arrow out. That’s how people bleed out and die horribly.
2. If the arrow is still in\, check if it hit anything important.
3. Clean\, treat\, bandage\, and pray.
“Alright,” Viraj muttered, rolling up his sleeves. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”
Step 1: Assess the Damage
Viraj leaned in, inspecting the wound carefully. The arrow was still embedded in the soldier’s shoulder, but it hadn’t gone too deep. That was good.
The soldier groaned in pain as Viraj touched the area.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Arrows suck,” Viraj muttered. “You’ll live.”
Marcellus watched him curiously. “You speak strangely.”
Viraj smiled weakly. “It’s part of my charm.”
Step 2: Remove the Arrow (Without Making It Worse)
“Alright, listen,” Viraj said, turning to Marcellus. “Do you have anything sharp and clean?”
Marcellus laughed dryly. “You’re in a war camp. Nothing is clean.”
Fantastic.
Viraj sighed. “Okay. Hand me that knife. And more wine.”
Marcellus passed him a knife and a flask.
Viraj poured wine over the blade, hoping it would at least kill some bacteria. Then he poured more on the wound itself, because why not make this extra painful?
The soldier let out a furious yell, cursing in a mix of Latin and what sounded like pure rage.
“I know, I know, it burns,” Viraj said. “On the bright side, that means it’s working.”
Step 3: Stitch and Pray
Using the knife, Viraj cut a small incision around the arrowhead, carefully removing it without tearing more flesh.
The soldier gritted his teeth and groaned, but didn’t pass out. Viraj took that as a win.
Next, he stitched the wound using the rough thread Marcellus handed him, doing his best to make it look like he knew what he was doing.
Was it perfect? Absolutely not. But the soldier wasn’t dead, so Viraj counted that as a success.
Marcellus’ Verdict
Marcellus nodded slowly. “You are not the worst healer I have seen.”
Viraj smirked. “High praise.”
Marcellus chuckled. “You are strange, but useful. That will keep you alive here.”
Viraj nodded grimly.
For now, maybe.
But he still had no idea how to get back to the future—and the longer he stayed, the more tangled his fate became with history itself.
---
Next Part: Accidentally Winning Hannibal’s Respect—A Terrible Idea with Major Consequences
"Fate leads the willing and drags along the reluctant." — Seneca
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