[Chapter 330. Aid]

Sarah and Vanessa lay on the ground, bleeding out from the wounds they received from the Greater Obarro. Their once-white armor stained a deep crimson, their lifeblood fading by the second. The pristine metal plates that gleamed in the magical light moments before now ran dark and slick with blood, creating gruesome patterns of violence and mortality. Sarah's chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. Each breath fought the agony of two quills tearing through her armor and flesh, one lodged dangerously close to her heart. Her normally bright eyes glazed with pain and confusion, rolling unfocused as she tried to process the attack.

Vanessa lay nearby, her body contorted where she fell. Blood pooled beneath her, spreading across the stone floor in a widening circle. Her once-steady breathing turned ragged and intermittent, each exhale carrying a wet rattle of internal damage. The vibrant energy defining her—the ambition, the confidence—drained away with her blood, leaving behind the fragile shell of a woman who never imagined such an end. The coppery scent of blood filled the tunnel, mixing with the dust in a heavy, suffocating atmosphere.

Carmen stared into the swirling motes of the Greater Obarro, her hands shaking. The healer's mind retreated into itself, unable to process the brutal reality. Her analytical brain, usually sharp and methodical, shut down. She watched the beast's remnants dissolve into tiny particles of blue light—miniature stars dancing in the darkness before fading to nothing. The sight held a hypnotic quality, a strange, beautiful contrast to the surrounding ugliness.

Carmen's fingers trembled, the movement spreading up her arms until her whole body vibrated. The quill embedded in her abdomen throbbed with each heartbeat, sending waves of pain through her body she barely registered. Her features turned ashen, eyes wide and unfocused as if watching herself from a great distance. The staff, her symbol of hope and power, lay discarded on the ground. Its golden light dimmed to a faint, pathetic glow barely pushing back the surrounding darkness. Carmen always approached problems with logic and reason, but here logic vanished, leaving only pain, fear, and the fading lives of her companions.

Iris pushed forward, dropping her sword to the ground. In the next moment, she cradled Sarah's head. The massive Zweihänder hit the stone floor with an echoing clang, its blade humming with faint turquoise energy that quickly faded. Iris moved with desperation-fueled precision, the sight before her shattering her composed demeanor. She knelt beside Sarah, her fingers cradling the woman's head, lifting it from the cold stone. With her other hand, she produced a small crystal bottle containing a thick, crimson liquid glowing in the dim light.

The contents swirled, capturing and reflecting the limited light, proving it more than mere liquid. Iris bit down on the cork stopper, pulling it out with a pop that rang unnaturally loud in the tense silence. She tilted Sarah's head back, her movements firm but gentle, and poured the viscous red liquid into the wounded woman's mouth.

The young woman choked on the sudden liquid and began coughing. Sarah's body convulsed as the unfamiliar substance hit her throat, triggering an involuntary reflex. Her eyes flew open, wide with shock and confusion as she tried to breathe around the intrusion. The thick, oily red liquid coated her throat, making breathing difficult. Some trickled from the corners of her mouth, mixing with the blood staining her lips and chin. Her body arched as a violent cough wracked her frame, radiating fresh pain from the wounds in her chest and abdomen. For a terrifying moment, the potion seemed to do more harm than good as Sarah struggled to draw breath between the spasms. Her hands, limp at her sides moments before, clenched into fists as her body fought both the potion and her injuries.

Iris tossed the empty bottle away. The glass clattered against the stone as she held Sarah's head still and covered her mouth, preventing the woman from spitting out the precious medicine. She felt Sarah's body fighting the intrusion, muscles tensing to expel the foreign substance. Once certain Sarah swallowed it all—feeling the final convulsion against her palm—she pulled the barbed quills from her body with brutal efficiency. The first quill tore through Sarah's armor with a wet, sucking sound. A sharp gasp escaped the wounded woman as blood flowed from the opened wound.

The second quill in her abdomen came next. Iris kept her movements precise despite the trembling in her hands. The third, embedded in Sarah's chest, proved the most challenging; its barbed tip lodged deep right next to her heart. Iris twisted and pulled, ignoring the strangled cry escaping Sarah's lips as the projectile came free, followed by a gush of dark blood. She watched the potion take effect. The skin around the wounds began to knit together, the blood flow lessening as Sarah's breathing steadied from ragged gasps to normal respiration.

Moments later, she knelt above Vanessa, who coughed blood but remained in less danger than Sarah. The Astral Arcanist's eyes fluttered open, showing recognition before closing as another wave of pain washed over her. Another crystal bottle appeared in Iris's hands, materializing from nowhere as if summoned by her desperate need. She repeated the process, using more care this time.

After ensuring Vanessa drank the potion—tilting her head at a different angle to prevent choking—Iris pulled the quills from her flesh. The quill in Vanessa's shoulder came out first, followed by the one in her side. Each extraction drew a soft moan from the semi-conscious woman. The quill in Vanessa's thigh proved difficult, its position making the extraction awkward. Iris repositioned Vanessa's leg, earning another pained cry before working the projectile free with a sharp tug. She watched the potion's effects manifest. The bleeding slowed to a trickle as Vanessa's breathing stabilized.

Her eyes sprang toward Lana, who leaned against the wall, having already removed the quill from her thigh. The warrior's face turned pale and beaded with sweat, but her posture remained defiant despite the pain. A trail of blood ran down her leg, darkening her white armor where it pooled.

"Anywhere else than your thigh?" Iris asked, her gaze moving over Lana's body, searching for other injuries.

"I-I'm fine, I've had worse." Lana's voice sounded strained but determined. She pressed her hand against the wound as if to demonstrate her resilience. She tried to stand straighter but winced as the movement sent fresh pain through her leg. Despite her brave words, the tremor in her hands and the hesitation in her voice betrayed her true condition.

Iris turned away without wasting another heartbeat on Lana. Her attention shifted to the shock-stricken Carmen, who hadn't moved from where she collapsed.

A loud slap echoed through the confined space like a gunshot.

Carmen's head snapped to the side with the force of the blow, a pained, shocked cry escaping her lips. Carmen lay on the ground, a red mark blooming across her pale left cheek. Her eyes widened with disbelief, tears springing to the corners as she stared up at Iris with fear and confusion.

"Get your shit together," Iris commanded, pulling the back of her hand away. Her composed expression twisted into fury. "You are the healer. Your job is to keep them alive, not stare into space while they die." Her voice hit like cold steel, each word delivered to cut through Carmen's shock.

The sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh worked, shattering Carmen's paralysis. The stinging heat blooming across her cheek meant nothing compared to the cold dread that had frozen her. For a terrifying heartbeat, Carmen's eyes remained unfocused, her mind trapped in the horror. Then, clarity returned. Her pupils contracted. Fierce concentration replaced the glazed look as she registered Iris's words, the slap traveling through her system like a jolt of electricity. A moment later, her body glowed with healing light, a soft luminescence pushing back the darkness.

The aura expanded from Carmen's hands, flowing like warm honey across the wounded bodies of her companions. Sarah and Vanessa, pale and barely conscious beneath their blood-soaked armor, stirred as the healing energy washed over them. The light sank into their wounds, knitting torn flesh and mending damaged vessels with impossible speed. Carmen moved with desperate purpose, her fingers tracing patterns in the air that left trails of soft light. She positioned herself between the two fallen women, her expression a mask of fierce concentration and self-loathing. The quill wounds, ragged and bloody moments before, began to close under her power.

As Carmen worked, she muttered something inaudible. If not for Iris's sharp hearing, the words would have vanished into the tunnel's echoes. But Iris heard them:

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The healer repeated the words like a mantra. Her voice cracked with each iteration as tears streamed down her face, mixing with the sweat and grime of battle. The apology meant more than the physical wounds she mended; it answered for the moments of hesitation, the paralyzing fear that nearly cost her friends their lives. Carmen's hands trembled as she channeled more energy, the light fluctuating with her emotional state.

Iris's gaze hardened as she watched the healing light dim around the two girls lying in their own blood. The intensity of Carmen's initial surge faded. Sarah and Vanessa's breathing steadied, their pallor improving, but they remained unconscious and vulnerable. Each pulse of healing light emanating from Carmen's hands felt weaker than the last, a sign Iris's sharp eyes caught.

Carmen looked over at Iris, who stood leaning against her Zweihänder buried in the ground, watching her every move. Carmen flinched, avoiding her gaze. The massive black blade protruded from the stone floor, its vibrant turquoise energy dormant. Iris's posture conveyed weariness and authority. Her silver eyes pierced through the darkness, fixing on Carmen's hunched form. The healer felt those eyes on her—judging, assessing—and found herself unable to meet their intensity. Instead, Carmen focused back on her work, her movements growing frantic as she tried to compensate for her earlier hesitation.

"We will talk about this later, and Searanox will hear about this." Iris's voice cut through the tunnel like a shard of ice, each word designed to convey authority and disappointment. She didn't raise her voice, yet the quiet intensity carried more weight than any shout.

Carmen flinched at the mention of their progenitor's name, a fresh wave of fear washing over her. She knew Searanox held high standards. He did not tolerate failure. The thought of explaining her paralysis to him sent a chill through her bones. Despite her fear, Carmen redoubled her efforts, pouring her energy into healing the two women, trying to atone for her earlier hesitation with every ounce of power she could muster.

The soft light of Carmen's healing magic finally extinguished, plunging the tunnel back into monochrome light, illuminated only by Iris's lantern and the fading motes of the defeated Obarro. Vanessa stirred, pushing herself into a sitting position with a pained groan, her movements slow and stiff. She glanced down at the newly sealed holes beneath her armor, her expression a mask of lingering pain and dawning horror. Sarah remained unnervingly still, her platinum blonde hair fanned out across the dusty floor like a halo, her chest barely rising with shallow breaths. Lana stood guard nearby, gripping Wavebreaker with white knuckles. Her eyes darted into the darkness, her own injury a dull throb overshadowed by the chilling tableau.

The threat of Searanox's involvement struck deeper than the physical wound in Carmen's abdomen. She didn't look up, staring instead at her blood-stained fingers as if they belonged to a stranger. "He won't... please," she whispered, the plea swallowed by the silence of the mine. The fear in her voice rang palpable, a desperate entreaty left unanswered.