Arthur awoke to pain—real, unfiltered, and sharp. His body ached in ways he hadn't felt since before the System: every bruise, every burn, every torn muscle a reminder that he was, for now, only human.
The medical wing was dim, the air thick with the scent of herbs and sweat. Sunlight slanted through high windows, painting the stone floor in gold.
He tried to sit up, but a gentle hand pressed him back. "Easy, my king," came a soft voice. Kaela, the half-elf healer, hovered at his side, her silver hair falling in a curtain as she checked his bandages. Her touch was gentle, but her eyes were sharp, curious, and a little hungry.
On his other side, Mira, the orc-blooded shieldmaiden, watched with arms crossed, her greenish skin gleaming in the light. She was tall, broad-shouldered, and radiated a restless energy. "He's awake," she rumbled, a grin tugging at her lips. "About time."
Arthur managed a weak smile. "Didn't want to miss the fun."
