After a short while, I awoke again, this time more aware, though still tired. It was safe to say I was too exhausted to sleep properly. My body felt heavy, each limb a little stiff, yet there was an unmistakable clarity in my mind that hadn't been there before. Now that I had regained much of my vigour, it was time to face reality—face the situation I had landed in and, more importantly, try to piece together the fragments of what had brought me here.
Firstly, I had to figure out how I got here. My head buzzed with a mixture of confusion and residual adrenaline, memories flitting in and out like a half-forgotten dream. If I remembered correctly, I was escaping from that gigantic, serpentine monstrosity, the one that looked like it could swallow an entire village without so much as a hiccup. A boa of grotesque proportions. Or something vaguely resembling one, anyway. If my memory served me right—and considering how chaotic the last few moments had been—I must have been lucky enough to avoid death.
Not that I was complaining. Anything was better than ending up as a snakes' lunch, which, judging by the size and savagery of the creature, would have been the most unpleasant end imaginable. Still, it was quite an intriguing question to ponder: how exactly had I survived? Was it luck? Or some unseen hand guiding events in my favour? Perhaps it was just the universe's cruel sense of irony, letting me survive only to throw me into an entirely different mess. The thought alone was dizzying.
As I shifted my gaze over my body, I noticed something peculiar: most of my injuries were gone. Not all of them, mind you. The bruises remained, the cuts stung faintly when I moved, and a dull ache persisted in places I could still remember too vividly. But the most fatal injuries—the ones that should have ended me, should have left me writhing in pain or worse—were no longer as severe. My broken limb from the jump across the stream felt sore but intact. The bash I had been certain would leave a huge bruise when I had blindly crashed into the tree had been mitigated to a tolerable level, and the injury on my shoulder, the one that had seared with pain, throbbed gently instead of screaming at me.
If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say it was the boy with the green glow—the one I had assumed was a healer. He seemed… naturally inclined to fix things, to mend what was broken. A handy ability to have, indeed. I sighed, a mixture of envy and admiration curling in my chest. To have healing as your Truth—it must have been amazing, a gift that could tip the scales in any dangerous situation. Yet, on second thought, I realized I didn't envy him at all. Imagine how I would have survived all those encounters if healing had been my Truth. It would have been an absolute death sentence. Too inconvenient . Survival loses its meaning if if you don't even have the assets to,
That forest stalker would have certainly been my end,afterall What's the point of healing when I was killed too fast to heal
Still, the question lingered in the back of my mind: what was his motive for healing me? And why was he here? Surely, this gathering wasn't designed just to call a truce so that we could all work together toward surviving. Humans weren't built that way, or at least, not naturally. There was always an undercurrent of selfishness, of hidden agendas, and I had learned to distrust it early on. Ignoring that thought for now, I forced my mind to wander elsewhere, letting my attention drift.
My gaze settled on the girl from before. Now that I had more energy, the least I could do was appreciate the view. After all, it wasn't every day you got a front-row seat to something so massive… and, dare I say, massively perfect. I chuckled softly to myself at the thought. Massively perfect? Really, Kael? I humoured my own blabbing, because sometimes, it felt good to allow yourself a little ridiculousness amid chaos.
There, of course, were other girls around, but she was the one I could scrutinize effortlessly. She was right in front of me, and my attention kept drifting to her presene,
Especially the nice stuffs on her chest,
Hmhmhm
Suddenly, as if she had sensed my gaze, she swerved and looked me straight in the eyes. I froze for a moment, my breath catching unexpectedly. That direct, unflinching look was something I hadn't anticipated, and it threw me off completely. My mind raced, scrambling for an appropriate reaction, but nothing came.
In the end, I did the only thing that felt remotely natural under the circumstances: I shamelessly smiled at her. A small, awkward, self-conscious smile that probably revealed far more than I intended. But what else could I do? Retreating into shyness wasn't an option—I had never been that guy, and besides, the situation was already awkward enough without adding layers of social anxiety.
So there I stood, smiling like an idiot, caught between curiosity and admiration, between caution and reckless fascination. It was… fine. It had to be fine.