Kael stayed seated long enough for his breath to stop rasping like sandpaper. The ache in his legs dulled from "about to fold" to "still functional," and his shoulders stopped feeling like they were hanging off hooks. He didn't move until he was sure the tremor in his hands was gone.
The blue bar in the corner of his vision crept back toward full, steady and patient in a way his body never was. Internal energy returned like a tide. Natural energy returned like a debt collector, slow, grudging, and with interest.
Once he finally felt the bar fill out, he let himself think again.
With his breathing returned to normal, and his energy bar complete again, Kael, began thinking up a plan.
A plan on how to leave this floor.
He didn't romanticize it. This wasn't some heroic "final boss" moment where people rallied and shouted and became friends.
This was logistics under pressure.
A checklist with blood on it.
