Jaxon slammed his fist into the jagged rock wall, the impact sending a small shower of pebbles scattering to the ground. His growl echoed in the narrow ravine, making the others flinch. “This is useless! We’ve been stuck in this goddamned loop for hours.” He turned to the group, his broad shoulders heaving with frustration. “We need to find a way out… now. It’ll be a miracle if they didn’t already close the domain with us in it.”

The Crystal Guild Raiders had fallen into a trap and couldn’t seem to find the core or even the domain’s exit for that matter. There were a few monsters who possessed the ability for mental attacks, but none had been listed in the brief.

Hansel leaned against a boulder, his face pale and drawn. “Shut your trap,” he snapped, his voice laced with bitterness. His gaze drifted to the horizon, where the nest of Brass Doomwings was barely visible against the skyline. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if we hadn’t left Eryx behind.”

“Oh, here we go,” Jaxon snapped, his patience worn thin. “Arcanis knows the drill.”

Freya sat on a rock nearby, her knees drawn to her chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving tracks through the grime on her face. “It’s my fault,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I was just trying to help him. I didn’t mean to…”

Hansel crouched beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, listen to me. This isn’t your fault. Eryx… he’s got this thing about Healers.”

Freya’s tear-filled eyes met his. “What did I do wrong?”

Hansel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not about you. Eryx… he’s got a complicated history. Let’s just say he doesn’t trust Healers, and leave it at that.”

Freya’s shoulders shook as she tried to stifle a sob. Hansel gave her a reassuring squeeze. “He’ll be fine,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. “He always is.”

Meanwhile, high in the mountains, Elara Max crouched in the Doomwing queen’s nest, her sharp eyes fixed on the unconscious form of Eryx Arcanis. He lay sprawled in the center of the nest, his fitted black top clung to his bulging muscles. Besides a few minor cuts, he didn’t look critically injured, but the annoying red light on her wrist was blinking incessantly. The queen Doomwing circled overhead, its massive wings casting ominous shadows over the rocky terrain. She looked at it and back at Eryx a few times.

Elara’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Well, well, Eryx. Looks like you’ll finally be useful for something.”

Positioning herself behind his limp body, Elara hoisted him into a sitting position. His head lolled forward, and she winced as her fingers brushed the dried blood on his temple. “You’re heavier than you look,” she muttered. “But don’t worry. You’re about to be the bait of a lifetime.”

With surprising agility, Elara began flailing Eryx’s arms, mimicking a struggling movement. The queen Doomwing screeched from above, its beady eyes locking onto the motion. Elara spared a moment to snatch Eryx’s black dagger from its holster. The blade felt unnaturally cold in her hand, and she couldn’t help but marvel at its flawless edge.

The Doomwing swooped lower, its massive form blotting out the sun as it descended. Elara crouched behind Eryx, holding her breath as the creature perched on the edge of the nest. It tilted its head, inspecting the supposed intruders. When the monster leaned in to check on its chicks, Elara seized her chance.

With a swift motion, she hurled Eryx’s body off to the side like a rag doll, drawing the queen’s attention for a split second. But that’s all she needed. As the beast turned, Elara lunged forward, driving her black sword into its flank. The Doomwing let out a deafening screech, its wings flailing wildly. Elara ducked as one massive wing swung toward her, narrowly avoiding a bone-crushing blow.

“What the f*ck, Z?” she hissed, as the blade snapped from the hilt. “This better not be the quality of weapon you’re gonna give me after I’m going through all this trouble.”

The Doomwing staggered, sluggish but still alert and dangerous. Elara’s eyes darted to the chicks, now stirring and chirping in the nest. In a fraction of a second, an idea popped into her head, she sheathed the weapons and lunged forward to grab a chick in each hand. With a grunt, she hurled them as far as she could out of the nest. The Doomwing’s enraged screech echoed across the mountains as it turned on her, swiping with razor-sharp talons.

Elara raised her arms to block, but the attack shredded through her sleeve and bit into her flesh. She bit back a scream, her vision blurring from the pain. Barely managing to grab the hilt of Eryx’s dagger, she plunged it straight above the trailing edge of its wing. A few feathers sprinkled into the nest before the Doomwing launched itself into the air.

Blood dripped from her arm as she stumbled back, clutching the wound. Gritting her teeth, she activated her self-healing ability. The gash closed rapidly, but her sleeve remained in tatters.

“That’s gonna cost me,” she muttered, flexing her fingers to ensure the arm was fully functional. The Doomwing’s screeches reached a fever pitch as it thrashed, searching for its missing chicks.

Elara knew she couldn’t fight the creature head-on, especially now that her weapon was a useless piece of scrap. She needed to get to cover—somewhere out of the open sky. She admired the four gleaming brass feathers and tucked them carefully into her pack before her gaze fell to Eryx’s unconscious form, lying crumpled a few feet away.

“You owe me big time for this,” she grumbled, bending down to haul him over her shoulders. He was dead weight, and her already sore muscles protested with every step as she began scaling down the mountain.

The descent was treacherous, but Elara moved with enhanced ease, her lithe form weaving through narrow crevices and over loose rocks. She didn’t stop until she was hidden under the covers of the dense foliage at the base of the mountain range.

Finally, she dropped Eryx unceremoniously to the ground, wiping sweat from her brow.

“What the f*ck does this heifer eat?” she said, glaring down at him.

Eryx didn’t stir, his face pale against the rocky terrain. Elara sighed, leaning back against a boulder. The Doomwing’s screeches had faded into the distance. She pulled the black dagger from her belt, turning it over in her hands.

“What the hell are you made of?” she muttered, running her thumb along the unblemished blade. Despite her aggressive attack, it was flawless, not a scratch marring its surface. A wicked grin spread across her face. “Maybe you’re not so useless after all, Arcanis. I’ll take this as payment.”

But even the interest in his dagger wasn’t enough to keep her from regretting her flippant decision of goodwill toward Eryx.

"Should I just kill this goddamn potato sack myself?" Elara muttered, dropping the black military boot she'd been holding, attached to a leg, belonging to the massive, muscled man. It hit the ground with a loud thud.

Sighing, she bent down and plucked a white flower from the ground, twirling it in her fingers. As she began picking its petals, she muttered under her breath. "Leave him to die... save his sorry ass... let him walk into the light... extend his worthless life... leave him as monster bait..."

When she reached the last petal, her scowl deepened. "Goddamnit." She flung the flower across the field in frustration.

Her eyes dropped to the unconscious man sprawled before her. Crouching down, she rested her chin on her hand and studied his face. "How is it," she muttered, "that even after being clawed to hell by monsters and dragged across the ground for half a mile, his face is still good-looking?"

Her expression twisted in disgust as she fought the irrational urge to slap him. Eryx Arcanis. The poster child of the Crystal Guild. One of the few S-Class Raiders in existence. If he died here, it'd probably cause a national crisis.

Elara groaned, running a hand through her hair. She had lived by one rule: Nothing and no one is worth exposing her secret abilities as a Healer. And anyone who risks exposing it will be eliminated.

But why was it that she felt she couldn’t seem to abandon his unconscious, half-dead body like she’d always done to others in the past?

Elara was called the Angel of Death for good reason. It was the reason she raided domains solo. Because she was no one’s savior. Everyone was dispensable in her eyes.

So when she slid the patch covering her right eye off, revealing her gold eye began to glow with a red-orange fire. Her lips pressed into a thin line at her uncharacteristic decision. Grumbling under her breath, she placed her hands on either side of his face and leaned down until their faces were just inches apart.

Okay, foolproof plan: heal him just enough so he won't die, then ditch him before he wakes up. He'll never know I was the one who saved him, and nobody will find out that I'm an S-Class Healer. Perfect.

Taking a deep breath, Elara pressed her forehead lightly against his. It would take a bit longer with the minimal touch but this was as much as she was willing to do. As her healing powers activated, she assessed his injuries—and winced. Oops, he's way worse off than I thought. If I'd waited, he actually might've died.

Critical internal bleeding in the abdomen–healed. Four cracked ribs–hmm… we’ll leave those as a reminder that he’s a pain in the ass. Broken tibia–he can manage with that as well. Black frog poison in the left shoulder…

The monster injury was the most concerning part of Elara’s assessment of his condition. He’d be able to manage a few years but at the rate he was going, it might be less. She groaned and began extracting the poison.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally stabilized his condition. Elara let out a relieved breath, opening her eyes—

Only to meet a pair of deeply rich, purple eyes staring back at her.

Shit.