Byung woke to the taste of iron and the smell of herbs.
Three days had passed in a single, black blink. He remembered Kraghul's fists, the wet crunch of bone, the world narrowing to a tunnel of pain and blood. He remembered thinking, This is it. Then nothing.
Byung was 100% certain he would die.
Yet he was breathing, he had defied death once again thanks to the skill he acquired due to Lira. If he didn't have that encounter, there was a high chance he would have died.
His eyes opened slowly, lids heavy as stone doors. The ceiling above him was the familiar rough-hewn rock of the mine's infirmary cavern, lit by soft torch glows.
The air smelled of healing salve and clean linen, not the reek of death he expected.
He lay on a cot, body swaddled head to toe in tight, precise bandages. No crude goblin wrappings; these were layered with the skill of someone who had studied the human body, not just for survival.
