Stray

The wound disappeared, but the pain did not dissipate immediately. The shock gradually faded, and the panic engraved in biological instinct surged, filling the muscles with stiffness and astringency. Oliver knew in his heart that after just paying a huge sum of money, this group of people— perhaps the “Gatekeepers” according to Micah— would only use him to make an example and wouldn’t kill him so easily.

But suffering without death was never a pleasant experience.

The cold and severe pain left by the steel needle was still throbbing in his internal organs. The continuous loss of strength made breathing a tiring task. Oliver took small breaths, inserted his fingertips wrapped in his armor into the soil under his feet, and successfully stood up after about five minutes.

He had to look for other opportunities. Oliver thought for a while and decisively excluded any negative thoughts. At the moment, he could only rely on himself to find a way out and couldn’t let himself be eroded by loss and frustration. After all, the chance of escaping was already slim. He needed to adjust.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t understand Micah’s thoughts. Oliver raised his head with difficulty and looked ahead, but unfortunately, the team had already moved forward for a while, and he couldn’t find Micah’s figure.

He was a dangerous person with a “high price”. Let alone acquaintances, they weren’t even friends. He wasn’t qualified to ask another party to simply trust a stranger wholeheartedly. He just tried to embrace hope, not wanting to leave the desperate person in front him because of this suspicion.

However, this time, fate was not on his side, and he undoubtedly failed. That was the risk he took. Oliver had long passed the age for idealism, so of course he understood this truth.

He understood it well, but…

Oliver tried to swallow his spit. His throat rolled with dry pain, mixed with sad emotions. He thought he could accept the result relatively calm, but the pain still gripped his heart.