Tom hovered over Corrine. She was both mortally injured and not in any immediate danger. On Earth, not even the greatest team of surgeons could have saved her, but it was different here. She had the choice of using a recovery potion or taking the risk and going back to Existentia to get a human healer to fix her. Most of the competitors here wouldn’t have that option. Healing classes were usually some of the first lost by diminishing species. However, humans were a part of the competition, and had an excess of exotic classes and an embarrassment of individuals with amazing spells outside of their class specialities. Both Michael and Clare, at the end of his life here, would have possessed the spells required to fix her wounds easily, and they had gotten to that level in less than a year. By now, there would be hundreds of people with the relevant abilities in town and, given his position, Dimitri could probably help as well.


    For now, he just had to wait and monitor her. Multiple casts of Blood Replenish had boosted her blood pressure back into the healthy range, and, while her oxygen saturation was less than ideal because of her reduced lung capacity, according to his calculations it should be more than enough to sustain consciousness.


    She did, however, have to wake up.


    He shook her shoulder very slightly. Given the missing organs and material scars, the sooner she was able to get help the better. If she remained unconscious for more than an hour, then she was going to need to be given a recovery potion.


    Vturalta caught his intent and splashed water on her face.


    Corrine flinched away from it. Her eyes flickered, then snapped open. It took her a mere moment to assess the situation. “No pain? Did you use a fucking recovery potion on me?”


    “No, you’re still very injured. I’ve just suppressed your receptors. Are you okay? How do you feel?”


    “I’m fucking fine.” She hesitated, tried to sit up, and stopped very quickly. “No… I’m not. I don’t feel too well.”


    Tom had been monitoring her and was relieved to see the small movement hadn’t prompted any new bleeding. “That’s your body telling you that you’re dying.”


    Her eyes widened.


    “Not immediately.” He said hurriedly. “I’ve stabilised you, but my magic isn’t good at producing new tissue, and you’ve lost too much. I can’t fix you. You’ve got six hours at most.”


    Her maturity and experience shone through, because she didn’t panic at all. Instead, she looked thoughtful:


    “That’s more than enough. I can always buy a recovery potion for less than what I just earned. I have to know, are you supporting me in any way at the moment? Like, is the reason I’m conscious that you’re funnelling mana into me?”


    Tom shook his head. “No one is doing that. I mean, I haven’t done any healing for over half a minute.”


    She nodded slightly, deliberately keeping the movements small. “Good. How stable am I? I mean, for how fucking long will I continue being stable if you continue doing nothing?”


    “Hours. However, the missing organs are going to cause a deterioration in everything. You’re going to go from mostly functioning to not being able to do anything very quickly.”


    She sighed. “You prevented them from giving me a recovery potion, didn’t you?”


    “I figured I could give you the choice, and, at worst, let you buy it direct and get it cheaper.”


    “Thank you. I think I’m going to ask Dimitri to heal me.”


    “In your state that’s dangerous…” he started, then stopped.


    She had touched her neck, and a delicate chain he had never noticed before became visible. “This will let me summon him.”


    “I’ve got something similar.” Tom admitted.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    “I’m not surprised. He got me this when I got into the Divine Champions’ trial. For this exact situation, too. I’ve used it twice since.”


    “I got mine when a rank two lair almost killed me.”


    She laughed at his delivery and immediately regretted it. She knew the history, of course, but that didn’t mean the concept of getting in trouble in such a weak lair wasn’t funny.


    “Tom, I’m going to go and get fixed up.”


    “What happens if he doesn’t come in time?”


    “He will. I’ll give him five minutes before returning and updating you on my status.”


    “Maybe a recovery potion is worth the investment.”


    “No.” she said. “No. I’ll come back and buy one, but only if I have no choice. You’re sure I won’t die immediately if I leave, aren’t you?”


    He nodded. That was what Touch Heal was conveying to him.


    “This fucking pisses me off.” She complained. “I’ve almost certainly got better healing spells than you, and all of mine are telling me I’m fucking doomed. But I know they’re wrong. Because, if they were right, I would have died already during this conversation.”


    “It was an interest of mine in the tutorial, and some of the solutions I’ve done to stabilise you are kind of unorthodox. I can imagine low level diagnostic spells tripping up because of them.”


    “I don’t want to know,” she chuckled very weakly. “But the sooner I go, the sooner I can stop feeling like death.” She winked at him.


    “That’s a terrible joke,” he started to complain, but she was already gone.


    There was an itching sensation in him that was almost compelling him to leave, but he couldn’t. He needed to wait for Corrine to return. He had doubts on whether it was possible, but he was having mini nightmares about what was happening to her. What would happen if she had massive organ failure the moment she left this place? Was she lying unconscious on the floor of an isolation room even now, having failed to trigger her necklace? How would he feel if she was dying? Given the work he had done to guarantee her short-term stability, he wasn’t sure such a collapse was possible, but that fear was clawing at him, so he wasn’t going anywhere.


    With a sigh, he looked up and discovered nearly everyone had gathered around him and was staring at him.


    “How did you do that?” A six armed, zero-legged, ball of muscles asked him suddenly.


    “They’re the same species.” Throm answered for him. “Anyone from the same species can heal another of their type.”


    “Are you sure?” The ball of muscles asked. “They look so different. Like, I know they have the same number of appendages, but she was so much bigger and had longer hair.”


    “Yes, Tom is just younger and, I think, a different sex.”


    Tom ignored them and quickly scribbled down the details of his encounter at a table to distract himself.


    “Tom!”


    He jumped at Throm’s almost-shout.


    “I just got an alert,” the voice continued. “Did you really fight a trident?”


    He glanced up in surprise. “Is that what they’re called?”


    “Yes. And you have memories?”


    “Well, I went in with a full GOD’s shield.”


    “Obviously,” Throm said. “But do you really remember all of it? Is it possible you have fake memories?”


    “No, what I have is very real. It couldn’t get into my mind.”


    “Excellent! Record everything, no matter how minor.” Throm ordered him. Then all of its arms waved. It was a clinical version of excitement. “Tom, do you think you can develop to beat it?”


    He hesitated. That wasn’t a question he had been expecting. He scratched his hair. “Um… I don’t see why not. Once I can break its main abilities, then I don’t think it’ll be able to stop me.”


    “And do you think you can do that?”


    “It was pushing me into a reality where I couldn’t use magic. I was unable to shatter the shackles, but by the end I felt close. So, yes. If I run into it a couple more times, I think I can take it out.”


    “You will almost certainly meet it again.” Throm informed with all seriousness. “Perhaps, not while I’m here, or while you’re in child bucket one, but if you both stay in the competition, you’ll cross paths multiple times.”


    “Then by the time this ends it’ll be incapacitated, too.”


    “Good,” Throm said with bloodlust. “Good. It deserves to die, but your focus has to be on the disks. However, once you’re producing sellable versions, I’ll help you with gaining the tools to put the trident down permanently.”


    Tom understood exactly what was being offered. You could theoretically incapacitate someone via the use of physical torture, but most of the people in the competition would not be scarred by such attempts. The professionals did it with the same method as the bear had started to do before his GOD’s shield intervened. The solution was to attack the soul. The trident had destroyed at least fourteen people, and enjoyed every moment while doing so. There was only one answer. “I’m happy to learn.”


    “Now, I know you’ve written a brief report,” the giant centipede continued. “But you’re going to have to expand on it. I’d also like to do a formal interview before the memory fades. I mean right now.”


    The itch in him to leave was growing stronger. “I guess I can…”


    Corrine took that moment to appear.


    “Talk while I wait for…” he trailed off, staring at Corrine and trying to assess her health.


    “Stop that,” she complained, happily. “Dimitri’s with me. I’m getting healed. There’s no need to do anything.” Then she stopped and noticed the ring of people who had spread out to have Tom in its centre. “What’s this? Is it about the healing?”


    “No,” Throm said quietly. “Your friend fought the trident and has memories of the encounter.”


    “Are you okay?” Corrine asked immediately.


    Tom waved the concern aside. “I was shielded.”


    “But how do you remember anything?”


    “That’s what I’m going to find out.” Throm said with a grin.