Chapter 97: Round 2 (3)
Jonas rushed to Arthur’s side. Arthur remained on his knees, clutching the bloody stump where his arm had been only moments before. His face had gone pale, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought against the waves of pain threatening to pull him into unconsciousness.
"Arthur, are you okay?" Jonas’s voice came out shaky and panicked.
Arthur looked up, saliva dripping from his gritted teeth. His eyes were glossy with shock and pain as he met Jonas’s gaze.
"No, I’m not okay. My fucking arm is—" A fresh spurt of blood from the wound cut his words short, forcing a strangled cry from his throat. He bit down hard, nearly drawing blood from his own lip as he struggled to maintain composure.
Jonas’s worried expression softened unexpectedly, transforming into the gentle smile Arthur had come to know him for in their short time together. A light laugh escaped Jonas’s lips—not mocking, but something else. Relief, perhaps. A strange, inappropriate response to tragedy that nonetheless felt perfectly right in the moment.
The laugh proved infectious. Despite the excruciating pain radiating from his severed limb, Arthur found himself giggling alongside his friend. The sound was strained and bordered on hysterical, but genuine. They had survived. Against impossible odds, they had defeated the sheepman. The cost had been high—Arthur’s arm was a steep price to pay—but they were alive.
"Alright, well, let’s hur—" Jonas began, his smile still warm and reassuring.
The sentence hung unfinished in the stale dungeon air. It would remain that way forever.
Warm blood splashed across Arthur’s face, coating his skin in a crimson mask. Time seemed to slow as realization dawned. How many times? How many times would he be forced to witness this scene? And why did some dark, knowing part of him understand that this wouldn’t be the last time? No... not even close.