Fin groaned, pushing himself up from the wreckage of shattered branches and torn-up moss. His body screamed at him—ribs cracked, ankle sliced, blood trickling from half a dozen cuts. The green aura flickered weakly around him, struggling to knit flesh and bone back together. Too slow.
Dan's heavy footsteps crunched through the undergrowth, deliberate, unhurried. Like he already knew how this ended.
'Damn it.' he spat blood, watching the crimson splatter against the roots. 'This guy's no joke.'
He thought the green core would be enough. Basic, sure, but solid. Stable. He was wrong.
Dan emerged from the trees, armor gleaming despite the dents, that monstrous sword resting casually on his shoulder. His expression was pure disdain.
"Still breathing? I'll fix that."
Fin exhaled, long and slow. Then he reached deeper.
The green aura snuffed out.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing. Just the ache of his wounds, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Then—
Silver.
