Elian awoke lying on the ground in the middle of a dense forest. Pain pulsed in his chest, and blood continued to seep slowly from numerous wounds. Every movement echoed through his body as if he were being torn apart. He struggled to rise to his knees, his vision blurry, his thoughts chaotic.
— I'll find… heh… I'll savor their screams, their suffering… — Elian murmured, each word reverberating like an echo in his skull. His body was too weak, but pride and hatred fueled his resolve.
Suddenly, before he could take a step, his body convulsed as if struck by lightning from within. Elian screamed in pain, coughing up blood. His entire body trembled from the shock, and his muscles began to seize uncontrollably.
— Damn… lost too much blood, — he whispered through clenched teeth as the pain clouded his mind. He felt his strength drain away, and despite his iron will, his body no longer obeyed him. He collapsed to the ground.
Memories of the last battle flickered in his mind: the brutal strike, the meteor, the devastation, the teleportation to an empty place. In that moment, when everything had seemed decided, Elian realized he had barely survived. His body was broken, his energy spent.
Then he saw something strange — in the distance stood an old, abandoned house. A faint thought crossed his mind that it might offer at least some shelter. Elian forced himself to his feet and staggered toward it, step by agonizing step, barely managing to stay upright.
When he finally reached the house, his body gave out again, and he fell at the threshold. Blood still flowed freely. Elian, gasping for air, smiled weakly through the pain.
— Am I really going to die here… such a pathetic death? — he whispered, barely audible. — Heh… if I were at full strength, I'd have crushed him without a second thought… but after that barrier drained me… only a piece of me remains…
His body could no longer hold on, and Elian slipped into unconsciousness, sinking into darkness.
But just when it seemed his end had come, he felt a gentle touch. Someone had entered the house. A faint scent of herbs and magic entered his awareness. Elian felt his wounds begin to close, as though the pain was being drawn out of him. He couldn't comprehend what was happening — nor resist it. Only scattered thoughts flickered in his fading mind.
— "Ha! You're right on the edge, buddy. Shame to lose someone so fun. Hang in there — you've still got people to kill."
Healing magic coursed through his body, restoring his strength. His wounds closed, the bleeding stopped. Elian felt his mind returning to clarity, and with effort, he opened his eyes.
A figure stood before him — a shadow, cloaked and hooded.
— Good luck, — the figure said softly, a voice full of quiet certainty. — We'll meet again.
Elian tried to respond, but his voice was too weak. He felt his strength returning, and the last thing he heard was the soft click of the door closing behind that mysterious figure.
Before drifting off once more, he thought to himself:
— I need a good nap. Gonna find a bed…
And with that, Elian finally fell asleep — knowing his path was far from over.