Liam jolted awake with a sharp inhale, and before his mind had fully caught up with his body, a dagger had already formed in his hand.

The black blade appeared from shadow as naturally as breathing, his fingers closing around the handle while he pushed himself up in one swift motion. Pain immediately flared through his ribs and side, but instinct overrode discomfort. Within the next breath, he was on his feet, knees slightly bent, shoulders angled, and dagger held low in a defensive grip as his crimson eyes swept across the darkness around him.

For a moment, Liam expected trees.

He expected broken earth, ash, the smell of burnt forest, and the lingering pressure of the eastern woods. He expected to see the ruined aftermath of his fight against the Berserker or the shadowed canopy above him where that final blurry silhouette had stood over his body before everything had gone black.

Instead, he saw stone.

The hollow chamber was dim, enclosed, and familiar. Rough rock walls curved around him, uneven and cold, with claw marks still faintly visible along certain sections where he had noticed them before.

The narrow crevice entrance sat across from him, barely wide enough to be called an opening, with faint light from outside slipping through the gap in thin pale streaks. Near the center of the chamber, a small fire crackled steadily within the pit he had created earlier, its orange glow brushing over the stone floor and throwing soft, trembling shadows against the walls.

Liam remained still for several seconds, dagger ready, breath controlled, eyes moving from one corner of the chamber to another.

Then the realization settled.

He was back at the outcrop.

More specifically, he was standing inside the same hidden shelter he had found within the rocky formation before heading east.

That realization surprised him more than he allowed his face to show.

’How did I get back here?’

The question moved through his mind with immediate caution. The last thing he clearly remembered was not this chamber. It was the eastern forest. The destroyed clearing. The aftermath of the Umbra Star. His body refusing to function as he dragged himself through the dirt. He remembered trying to use Mend across his entire body, remembered forcing himself upright against a tree, remembered walking through pain so intense that each step felt almost pointless.

Then the words eastern forest rang through his thoughts again, and the memories returned in a sudden, fragmented rush.

The Berserker.

The dark red lightning.

Charlotte nearly being crushed.

Smoke fighting the Advanced Horrors.

The river.

The aquatic demon.

The second clash.

The Umbra Star entering the Berserker’s maw.

The explosion.

The destruction.

Then, after that, everything became hazy. He remembered lying beneath the canopy, unable to move. He remembered a figure standing over him, but the shape had been blurred beyond recognition.

He remembered someone speaking, though the words had reached him only as broken, muffled noise. Then there were faint impressions after that, not enough to call proper memories. Movement through the forest. An arm under him, maybe around him. The sensation of being dragged or carried. A voice nearby. The smell of sweat, damp leaves, and blood. But none of it was clear.

Liam’s grip tightened slightly around the dagger.

’Who was it?’

The first answer that came to mind was Charlotte.

It made the most sense. No one else should have known about this shelter. The outcrop was hidden well enough that finding it by chance would have been unlikely, and the crevice entrance was even less obvious unless someone had already been led to it. Charlotte was the only person who knew this place existed aside from him, and if he had somehow ended up here after collapsing in the eastern forest, she was the most likely reason.

Still, Liam did not immediately relax.

Because if Charlotte had brought him back, where was she?

His eyes moved across the chamber once more, slower this time.

There was no sign of her.

Only the fire.

But the fire itself was proof that someone had been here recently. It was burning too cleanly to have been left unattended for long, with fresh wood stacked neatly enough in the pit to keep the flames steady without choking the chamber with smoke. Liam knew he hadn’t done that. He had no memory of returning here, much less preparing the fire.

His gaze shifted toward the corner of the chamber.

There, lying near the wall, was the corpse of a large deer.

It had been dragged inside and left in a rough position on its side, its neck twisted unnaturally and blood dried along its hide. The scent was not unbearable, but it was definitely beginning to turn sour, enough for Liam’s nose to pick it up even beneath the heavier smells of smoke, stone, and lingering herb. The kill looked recent, though not fresh enough to have been taken within the last few minutes.

Liam stared at the corpse for a moment.

’Was that Charlotte’s doing too?’

It was possible. Very possible. Charlotte had more than enough strength and speed to hunt something like that, especially if she had been using one of her beast forms. The thought made Liam’s eyes narrow slightly, not from suspicion alone, but because the more pieces he noticed, the more obvious it became that some time had passed while he was unconscious.

How long exactly, he couldn’t tell yet.

Eventually, Liam’s gaze lowered to himself.

Only then did he fully register the state of his body.

He was shirtless.

His sleeveless tank top was gone, and his torso was exposed beneath the warmth of the firelight. For a brief second, that detail alone bothered him more than the injuries, because he had no memory of removing it himself. Then his attention shifted to the condition of his body, and his thoughts became quieter.

He looked much better than he remembered feeling.

The deep cuts along his arms had mostly closed, leaving behind faint scars and red marks that showed where the wounds had not fully healed. Bruises still marked his skin in dark patches, but many of them looked faded compared to what they should have been after fighting the Berserker. His right arm still carried several thin lines where claws had grazed him, while his left arm, which had been heavily strained and burned from using his flames at that level, no longer looked as ruined as it should have.

His ribs were the most important part.

Liam carefully shifted his breathing, testing the pain.

It was still there.

But it was not the same.

The crushing, unbearable pressure he remembered from the ruined clearing had faded into something sharper but far more manageable. His back no longer felt like it had been cracked apart in several places. His head was clearer, though a dull ache lingered behind his eyes. His face hurt when he moved his jaw slightly, but the swelling had reduced. Even his left foot, which he had suspected was fractured, no longer sent stabbing pain through him the moment he applied weight.

Someone had treated him.

Not perfectly.

But well enough that his body had moved from barely functional to damaged but usable.

That realization immediately deepened the question in his mind.

’How?’

Charlotte had a dimensional storage ring. She had carried a healing potion before. It was possible she had more. Or maybe she had found something. Either way, the improvement was far too significant to be the result of his attempt at full-body Mend alone. Mend had stabilized him, but it had not healed him to this extent.

Liam shifted his weight slightly to test his balance.

A sharp pain immediately ran through his right side.

His hand moved to his ribs on instinct, fingers pressing lightly against the area as his jaw tightened.

There it was.

Still damaged.

Still not completely healed.

The pain was enough to remind him that whatever treatment had been used on him had not restored him fully. He could stand, move, and probably fight if absolutely necessary, but he was not in proper condition. If something serious attacked him right now, he would be forced to compensate heavily.

Liam exhaled slowly.

Only then did his stance loosen slightly.

He still did not dismiss the dagger.

His shoulders lowered just enough to show he was no longer expecting immediate danger, but the weapon remained in his grip, angled downward and ready. His gaze returned toward the crevice entrance, and for a few moments, he listened carefully.

The fire crackled.

The faint wind outside moved through the narrow gap.

Then he heard movement.

Soft scraping against stone.

Liam immediately raised his dagger again and shifted back into a guarded stance, his body turning toward the crevice as someone began crawling through from the outside.

A familiar figure squeezed through the narrow opening with far more ease than Liam ever had.

Charlotte.

She pulled herself inside with a casual fluidity that made the tight entrance look less inconvenient than it actually was. One arm came through first, then her shoulder, then the rest of her body slipped into the chamber as she dropped lightly onto the stone floor.

She was dressed in the academy’s training attire, though not fully. She wore the dark pants and boots, but above that she only had on a fitted black sleeveless tank top that clung closely to her figure and left very little mystery about the shape beneath it. Her curly dark hair was damp, almost wet, hanging loosely over her shoulders and down along the sides of her face as though she had just washed it at the river. A few droplets clung to the ends of her curls, catching the firelight as she straightened.

For the first time since waking, Liam eased slightly.

Not completely.

But enough.

Charlotte looked up fully, and her golden eyes widened the moment she noticed him standing there shirtless with a dagger in his hand. For a brief second, her gaze flickered from his face to the weapon, then down his bare torso, then back to his face again.

She stared at him.

Liam stared back.

A normal person might have asked how long he had been awake. They might have asked if he was in pain, if he remembered anything, or why he was holding a blade like he was ready to stab the first thing that moved. Charlotte, however, only took in the situation for a moment before her expression settled into its usual carefree, shameless ease.

"Oh, good," she said, brushing a wet curl away from her cheek. "You’re awake."

Liam said nothing.

Charlotte tilted her head slightly, her eyes dropping once more to the dagger in his hand before her lips curved with faint amusement.

"Since you’re up now," she continued casually, as if he had not just woken from near-death and immediately prepared for combat, "could you help dry my hair?"