Grunt. Stomp. Seek.
The B-Rank Magic Guard slumped heavily as Fiona and Steve supported her to the mossy base of a forest tree .They helped lower her gently, making sure her back met the broad bark with care.
Even from a distance, it was impossible to ignore the state she was in. Her armor was cracked in multiple places, deep fissures lining her breastplate, and blood seeped slowly from a wound just above her left brow.
Streaks of crimson marred her skin, crawling down her temple, neck, and even her legs. Blackened bruises bloomed beneath her torn sleeves. The damage wasn't just severe — it was astounding that she was still breathing.
Steve stood over her, eyes silently tracing the myriad of injuries that marked her skin.
'Huh...how the hell is she still breathing with does injuries?'
Still, as they took their hands away from the magic guard, Steve finally muttered, barely above a whisper.
"Is this okay for you?"
She gave a single, measured nod.
