Bell didn't hesitate.
He came in fast, blade already moving, feet planted where mine couldn't be anymore.
One War Shadow stepped forward—
Bell cut it down mid-motion.
Not flashy. Not loud. A clean, practiced strike that took the already damaged limb and finished the job. Shadow mist scattered across the floor.
Casual.
Like he'd done this before.
He stopped beside me instead of charging ahead.
"Can you stand?" he asked, already scanning the room.
I tested my legs. Pain flared, sharp but controlled. "I think I can."
"Good."
He was already reaching into his pouch.
"Thanks, Lord Miach," he muttered.
Healing potion!
He pressed one into my hand.
"Here."
I didn't argue. Drank it in one go.
Heat flooded my chest. The pain dulled. The deep tear along my back pulled tight, skin knitting just enough to move without screaming.
Not perfect.
But usable.
I exhaled slowly. "Thanks."
Bell nodded once. No smile. No relief. Just focus.
"Any extra weapon?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Sorry. Only this. Guild-issued."
Figures.
"Good," I muttered. "Back to square one."
I reached into my bag.
There.
The spearhead. Old. Heavy. Awkward.
And a knife I barely used.
Desperate tools for a desperate moment.
No need to be picky.
Seeing the protagonist in front of me—steady, breathing, standing—didn't give me courage.
It made me feel worse.
Saved by him?
Pathetic.
Let him fight alone while I hid behind potions?
Even worse.
If I did that… I might as well already be dead.
My eyes narrowed.
"I'll help."
Bell glanced at me. Really looked this time.
Then nodded. "Good. I need you anyway."
I frowned. "Why?"
He didn't answer.
Cruduckkkkkkk
Stone split open with a sound like bone snapping.
Then another.
And another.
From the side passage—four kobolds poured out, screeching, claws raised.
Behind them, three War Shadows stepped through the fractures like they'd been waiting their turn.
Goblins followed. Too many.
Bell swore under his breath. "More coming."
My eyes widened.
"WHAT—"
Another crack.
Another breach.
Two more War Shadows emerged.
I stared.
"…Good," I said weakly. "No Frog Shooters. Might survive."
Bell barked a laugh that sounded more like pain. "You've got terrible standards."
Then—
Another crack.
"—RIBEREEEELKK—"
Two more.
I stopped counting.
Bell glanced at me. "You've got bad luck. Mister."
I nodded. "Yep. Very bad."
No more talking.
We engaged.
---
Bell moved first—not rushing, not freezing. He took point where the floor narrowed, forcing the War Shadows to come at him in staggered angles instead of all at once.
Smart.
I stayed half a step behind and to the side, spearhead gripped low. When a kobold rushed Bell's flank, I rammed the spearhead forward and tore its chest open, then followed with the knife when it didn't go down fast enough.
Messy.
Effective.
A War Shadow lunged for Bell's shoulder.
He blocked—but the impact still shoved him back a step.
I stepped in without thinking and slammed the spearhead into its knee joint.
Not deep enough to kill.
Enough to slow.
Bell finished it with a downward cut.
"Don't overcommit!" he shouted.
"Then stop pulling aggro!" I snapped back.
Another Shadow came in.
Bell ducked under the first swipe, twisted, and drove his blade across its torso. Shadow mist sprayed.
A goblin jumped him from behind.
I caught it by the throat and slammed it into the floor.
We weren't clean.
We weren't elegant.
But we were moving.
Together.
More kept coming.
Kobolds swarmed. Goblins pressed. War Shadows advanced slower now, more careful, learning our rhythm.
Bell noticed first.
"They're adjusting."
"Yeah," I said, breathing hard. "So are we."
I lost the spearhead when a War Shadow twisted and knocked it aside.
Didn't stop.
Knife came up.
I slashed. Dodged. Rolled. Cut low when Bell forced an opening high.
At one point, Bell stumbled.
I grabbed his arm and yanked him back as claws tore through empty space.
"Eyes up!" I yelled.
"I know!" he shot back, already moving again.
We weren't heroes.
We were just two idiots refusing to lie down.
More shadows gathered at the edges of the room.
Too many.
Bell saw it.
So did I.
No clever plan.
No miracle coming. Cuz mine is already here.
Just one truth hanging between us.
If we stop now—we die.
Bell tightened his grip on the sword.
"Still standing?" he asked.
I wiped blood from my mouth and raised the knife.
"…Unfortunately."
He nodded.
"Good."
Then we went back in.
---