The dust off the stones of the cave tasted as shitty as I always imagined it would; it certainly doesn’t enhance the coppery taste of blood in my mouth. The stench from the dead goblin that almost cost me my life does not make things any better either.
He coughed out a blot of blood. Every breath he took was a struggle; he felt as if he was fighting his own body just to draw in what felt like glass shards. His vision was slowly darkening. He tried to raise himself by pushing himself off the ground, but a sharp, blinding pain shot through his shoulder, suggesting that it was most likely broken or displaced and forcing him to let out a weak groan that died in his throat with a wet gurgle. Another spurt of red liquid soon followed suit.
Utterly pathetic. To think I would meet my end here, in some nameless cave, bleeding out on a cold stone floor because of a green fucker that barely reached my waist. A damned trashy, scavenging, barely intelligent thing. The rest of the guild and those from the academy would have a field day with this; here I lay, proving them right about my uselessness.
He could hear his own heartbeat slowing down, each thump echoing in his ears like a dying drum. The darkness at the edge of his vision started to creep inward, cloying and heavy, pulling him down into an abyss. He was slipping, and he knew it. The only reason he was still hanging on was pure stubbornness that he always had inside him and showed against almost everything.
His ears barely managed to pick out the faint footsteps coming from what sounded like a pair of leather boots approaching him.
I wonder if that's another goblin, maybe a friend of the one that's lying across me, or an adventurer who'll pick my corpse for goods, not that I have much.
He never imagined it would be something helpful; that was rarely ever the case for someone like him, at the bottom of the barrel.
"Oh, you poor thing."
A soft, melodious voice with a warmth that was almost maternal spoke as the sound of the footsteps was replaced by the rustling of fabric from a woman kneeling by his side. The sound was almost music to his ears. His nose finally picked up a scent that was different from that of the goblin; something flowery, sweet, almost cloying, and most definitely out of place inside this stupid cave. Finally, the consciousness he was hanging on to by pure stubbornness decided to fade away, plunging the world and his senses into utter nothingness.
I am still breathing.
Was the first thing he managed to think once consciousness slowly started to make its return, followed by the realisation that he was no longer tasting copper nor feeling the sharp pain of his shoulder.
Slowly, his eyes flickered open, his vision adjusting to the transition from the darkness of nothingness to the soft light breaking into the cave through the opening that led to the forest he knew was outside.
He could feel his head was no longer on the cold, hard stone but instead on something soft and made of fabric.
Finally, his eyes had adjusted fully, and the sight made them widen as he gasped; he was staring up at what he could only describe as a gentle angel.
No, I am definitely dead, and that is an angel here to claim my soul.
A pair of crimson eyes looked back down at him with a warmth that seemingly erased all his worries, as if he was in a trance. The eyes were socketed into a face of such perfect symmetry and striking beauty that it was almost uncanny despite the gentle smile adorning it. The porcelain-pale skin he saw was framed by snow-white hair cascading down, which looked out of place in a cave where people came to train by hunting easy-to-kill things like goblins to get used to becoming adventurers; it was too pristine and well-maintained for a woman who was either here fighting or, at the very least, had to travel here for a couple of days.
"Oh, you are finally awake; you had me worried there for a while. I thought perhaps I was a little too late to make sure you remained alive."
The woman spoke as he kept staring up at her from her lap, awestruck.
"Are you an angel?"
Was the only line he could muster in a hoarse voice from exhaustion. The statement earned a chuckle from her, a sound that filled him with comfort despite the circumstances. Softly, she wiped away a stray drop of blood off his cheek; the touch felt cool in a soothing manner. Perhaps it was his skin that was warm and not her touch; he had been feeling a bit warm since waking back up after all.
"No, silly, I am just a healer without a party. I wanted to try my luck by training solo here, but I came across you the moment I entered the cave. You are too alive to see any angels, at least for now."
A healer without a party... That was basically unheard of, as people who could heal were always in demand, but the fact that he was alive and seemingly not suffering from the same things he did back when his head was on the ground confirmed she was being truthful about being a healer, if nothing else.
He tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down with a force that was both somehow gentle and firm at once.
"Rest a little while longer; you have just regained consciousness. Let your mind catch up to your body by gathering yourself for a few more minutes; you have just barely managed to remain in the land of the living, and that takes a toll."
Why's she so hard to refuse?
He wondered as he obliged, unable to muster up his usual stubbornness against everything and everyone. The brief act of listening to her earned him another soft, gentle smile.
He lay there for several minutes, letting himself enjoy the soft fabric of her white robes and the plush flesh underneath.
Soon he started to sit up again, this time slower and more careful. This time there was no pushback from the healer. With the same approach of care and playing it safe, he slowly stood up, getting back on his feet.
Odd, I'm feeling better than I did before the goblin, slightly better but better nonetheless.
The woman in white followed suit. His eyes traced the outline of her body; he subconsciously looked her up and down.
Gods, that's not a woman but a sculpted masterpiece.
The woman's body shape, which was previously swallowed by the bunching of the fabric while she was seated, was now on full display; he could see exactly how much of a temptation she was: an hourglass figure that, frankly, was almost outrageous, with a generous bust.
The woman tilted her head, her smile turning teasing.
"You are staring, and your mouth is agape. I am Melissa."
She reached out a hand.
"Liam."
He replied as he took her hand and closed his fingers around it to shake.
Her skin is so soft, no callouses either, though I suppose that's to be expected for a healer. It's also like marble, flawless and cool.
"We should leave; it's much better to use daylight to travel."
He suggested as he let go of her hand after letting his touch linger just a moment longer than necessary.
He did not wait for a reply before he turned around to walk; in his stubborn mind, this was the only logical thing to do anyway, so she'd most certainly follow. He'd rather not stand and wait around to give death another chance at claiming him or the saviour, which he felt indebted to so soon after surviving a close call through what was sheer dumb luck.
Another encounter might be deadly; she is likely tapped out after healing so many injuries so thoroughly. Most adventurers without a party were either beginners or weaklings like himself, quite often both, which meant she probably did not have too vast a mana pool to heal or fight anymore.
The same soft footsteps followed behind him shortly.
She is actually following. Good.
For some reason, the knowledge that she was following filled him with comfort and perhaps a touch of happiness; it was odd for him to care much about others' safety, as most people didn't care about him either, but she had saved his life, and well, she was pretty. Although there was also a feeling of a chill; the same one he sometimes felt whenever a monster eyed him up as if he were food.
We are still in a dungeon; even if we are close to the exit, it's normal.
He justified the feeling, but he couldn't see the slight smile or the shimmering of crimson orbs behind him, staring at his back with something that was dangerously close to being predatory.