The M in my MP5 stands for M.D.

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The truth is a lot less impressive, I used to write Sherlock Holmes fics where Watson's a medical Sherlock!

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The 2nd intercostal does work if you're willing to use a longer catheter, but to my knowledge, the 5th intercostal is preferred by medics because the catheter is inserted from the side of the chest, which isn't obstructed by body armour. This is moot if you're a cleric wearing nothing but long flowy robes, but I'd like to think that medics in a magical setting are still trained that way because tanks and brawlers would probably wear some sort of armour!

"Step aside, or you'll be next."

"Cast Increase Blood Volume."

Caduceus was done playing. He raised his staff as a warning. "If you get in my way again, I will kill you."

"With what? Your stick?" the bandit asked, squinting.

"You feel that headache? That's your blood pressure rising rapidly. Dizziness comes next, then vision blurring."

There was a low groan from Caduceus's ally, Helios. It was ragged, the sound of a cleric saying his last prayers to his God. Good, that he had regained consciousness, but there wasn't much time before he would succumb to his injuries too.

The bandit clutched his chest in shock. "What did you d-"

"Cast Bloodletting."

The effect was instant. Caduceus's diagnostic cantrips flared to life, highlighting the bandit's heart as his aorta ruptured. The bond between him and his God wavered, reminding him of his duty.

Do no harm.

Well, fuck that duty.

The bandit yelled in pain, bent over, and Caduceus pushed him over with his staff. Death within 120 seconds, announced his cantrip.

"Who's next."

A blast of energy landed menacingly between Caduceus and Helios, but this was close enough for the healer to work. Severe breathing difficulties, low blood oxygen levels, along with multiple broken ribs. He cast a more advanced diagnostic spell on the cleric. Significant volume of air and blood in the chest cavity. Definitely a tension pneumothorax. Death within 120 seconds if untreated, and it wouldn't be a painless death.

A more acute approach was necessary against their ranged attackers then. Once the first bandit passes away, Caduceus's God would be sure to withdraw His grace. The blaster was charging up his next shot, so that would be the primary target. Caduceus withdrew a scalpel from within his robe. He wasn't sure if the spell had the necessary range, but there's no time like the present to find out. He closed his eyes, focusing on the diagnostic cantrips. From afar, he could sense the blaster's heavy breathing.

"Cast Incision."

As Caduceus sliced the air in front of him, the blade reached out, passing through the blaster's neck, and into his trachea. With another swipe, the healer tore the blaster's neck open. The bandits around him recoiled in shock as blood spurted out of his neck. But Caduceus didn't need to see them to harm them. Their respiratory systems lit up like bonfires in the night sky. Tachypneic breathing, possible hyperventilation. Diagnosis: mortal terror, and the good healer shall be dispensing emergency surgical interventions from afar.

As the last neck exploded into a shower of blood, everything faded to black. He opened his eyes in shock, cursing his God's name. Why now? There's still a life to be saved! He rushed to Helios's side. Although his God had withdrawn his magical gifts, Caduceus still had a lifetime of medical knowledge within him. He tore Helios's robe open with a pair of shears. His chest was heaving ineffectually, and there was a distinct imbalance as he tried to breathe.

The cantrips had highlighted the pneumothorax in an alarming shade, and he knew from experience that Helios was on the verge of death. From a pocket inside his coat, Caduceus withdrew a vial of alcohol and a disturbingly large needle in a tube.

"Relax, Helios. Your God clearly hasn't abandoned you. Focus on my voice."

He washed his hands, the needle, and the side of Helios's chest with the alcohol, then took a swig for good measure.

"The left lung has collapsed. Each inhalation brings more air into the chest, which cannot escape without help. Keep breathing though."

Caduceus counted ribs. "Treatment requires a chest tube to be inserted. The Temple traditionally recommends inserting it between the second and third rib, but experience suggests performing it at the fifth rib, where the chest wall is thinner. A needle is inserted to allow the excess air to escape."

Helios's eyes snapped open as Caduceus pushed the needle in, and air hissed out of the tube. The cleric's breathing eased, and he grimaced as the healer eased the tube against his chest wall.

"Air now escapes through a one-way valve." Caduceus continued, as he taped the end of the tube against his chest. "You feeling better?"

Helios swore loudly. Good, his state of consciousness wasn't impaired. It would be bad if he said something stupid like, "Maybe I should break my sacred Oath too".

"Once you're ready, I'm going to need you to get up and to start casting. You're still down a lung and I don't need my God's aid to know that you're still struggling to breath."

"But?"

"But I'm going to need your help getting us back to the nearest Temple. You'll need proper medical attention to reinflate your lung and to fix your ribs."

Helios stood up shakily, holding his polearm for dear life. Caduceus slinged the cleric's left arm over his shoulder, and gripped his wrist and clothing firmly.

"You ready?"

He opened his palm. Give me a moment.

"Alright, take your time. We've got all the time in the world."