I spent the next two days gradually gaining my strength and leeching off the crew. I was a burden and I knew it. My condition was improving but at a very slow pace. I could move around but my wounds weren't actually healing all that well. The old man told me I needed special attention once we made port in Jello something city.
But given the fact that I had a hole in my chest only two weeks ago, it wasn't really all that practical that I'd do any fighting anytime soon. Actually, it did make me wonder though. How the hell did the undead's sword miss its mark? And then there was another question. Did it really miss its mark?
Where the hell did that thing get a sword like that in the first place?
During that evening I thought about the future. I had a lot on my plate. The training, the betrayal, and getting strong enough. A lot.
