Alfred hadn't had the best day.
Between the constant guerrilla attacks, lack of sleep, and being trapped in a room with an enemy above his pay grade, there wasn't much joy to be found for him.
And to top it all off, he had been knocked out of the fight within six seconds. A new record in the party, though it was one he loathed to bear. His team was never one to hold back when it came to teasing. As for Gary and Shasa, they relished it. Alfred could already see them becoming his nemesis in the foreseeable future until someone trumped his achievement.
Of course, that relied on them actually living, but that didn't keep him from imagining Shasa's malevolent laughter right before he blacked out.
That— thankfully —turned out to be an empty worry as he took in the immediate surrounding with raised brows. The roaming eyes of the druid were quick, yet they soon froze as the sight of several fallen bodies entered his quaking vision.
The poor man didn't even have the chance to absorb what he had seen before something slammed into his back like a freight truck.
"Alfred!"
Gary's arms wrapped tightly around his stumbling compatriot before holding him back and checking Alfred up and down with a growing amount of surprise. Other than battered armor and bits of stone and pebbles stuck in his beard, the frontliner was barely worse for wear.
"Wha— Gary, you're okay? What happened? Are the others... are they...?" His eyes wandered once more to the familiar clothes and armor of those on the ground.
His fears only grew as Gary gave a slight, hesitant shake. "They are... I don't know. It fell apart fast after you got hit. Really fast, Alf. By the time one of us got hit, the big guy was already on top of someone else. Shasa, she might be okay. Haven't really had time to check. But Brandus..."
A grim frown hung on Alfred's lips. Even if Gary left the final words unsaid, the hint of grief in his voice was enough to finish the story.
He immediately ran to his fallen comrades with urgency, rolling them over and performing the crudest semblance of aid that he could provide. Healing was far from his specialty, but he hoped that the few basic spells he had were enough to stabilize them, if they still held breath.
Gary also joined him in his efforts, checking Shasa who lay in a pool of her own drying blood. The soles of his shoes were dyed in murky red as he held a finger underneath her nose and felt relief at the faint warmth of breath, however shallow it was.
A quick check for wounds quickly followed. While he had nothing to heal them, he wasn't so incapable that he couldn't wrap the wounds with cloth. But the search proved fruitless, despite the blood insinuating otherwise.
Still, that revelation didn't cause much concern or surprise. Gabriel was still up when she hit the pavement, so it was entirely possible that he managed to keep her alive. Such a performance was impressive, but not outside of Gabriel's skill. It was the main reason they had him in the party, despite his fanatical tendencies.
After a round of first aid, Alfred and Gary had cleared Edwin, Shasa, and Gabriel. They were not in the best condition, but it was enough that they were stable. Their attention was left to the final individual.
Both of them walked to Brandus, steps resembling the shuffling of pallbearers rather than the hurried march of a medic. While luck must have truly been on their side if they only had one casualty, neither of them would ever use that phrase when they had still lost a friend.
Yet, Brandus' condition eerily matched the others— if not better. Alfred hadn't seen the wounds, so he did not think too much about the subject. Gary, on the other hand, had a greater reaction.
"I'm telling you, this is weird." Gary argued. "He had a hole in his chest the size of a dinner plate."
"So? Gabriel has healed worse. He could have slipped a [Healing Prayer] in while you fighting." Alfred shot back as he picked a pebble from his beard, before adding: "Besides, you were in no position to worry about 'em. You said so yourself."
Gary shook his head in response. The timeline didn't add up. Gabriel had been knocked out before, not after Brandus was hit. Alfred knew that, but the lack of visible wounds might have led him to underestimate the situation. There was no way the healer would have been back up on his feet. In fact, it was strange that Gabriel was in the same situation, despite the lack of another healer.
Perhaps he would have been more willing to believe that he had made a mistake if the gaping hole in Brandus' armor didn't exist, but the warped metal acted as a reminder of both the danger and his own experience.
It was similar to his own chest, and his thoughts invariably turned to the glowing crystal. Smoky wisps still floated in the air above the crater that sat not too far away.
"Hah— maybe you're right, Gary. Not saying you are, mind you. but I'd rather talk when all of us are back on our feet, and I think the same goes for these fellas." Alfred suggested. It had been a long day, full of unpleasant surprises. He was of the mind to shelve the conversation for a time more fitting.
'Whatever. Not like I'm gonna argue with what luck has given me.' Gary decided. He didn't even notice that he had replaced the Goddess with luck once the peril had passed.
The two continued to provide first aid. It did little for their patients, but just doing something helped ease their hearts. They were so absorbed that they failed to see the happenings going on in one secluded corner.
"Hey, Gary."
"Yea?"
"You know the demon, right?"
The question merited a glare as Gary stared back. "No Alfred, I'm afraid not. I was so busy playing with kittens for the past thirty minutes that we didn't have the chance to meet."
"..."
"Ugh— what about him?" He asked, watching over the unconscious teammates as he ignored Alfred's face that screamed 'I didn't deserve that...'
"... Well, ya killed him. Right?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"So you're absolutely sure he's dead."
A pause followed as Gary wondered about the sudden interest in his latest burn victim. "Listen, the guy had his face melted off, and he ain't moving. I'm no doctor, but I say he's deader than a doornail." Besides, any dose of holy magic was an unhealthy one when it concerned demons, he thought. Not to mention the big fella got more than a simple dosage.
"Not to... uh, question your diagnosis, but I wouldn't call that 'not moving'." Alfred slowly muttered, eying the back corner of the room with growing worry.
Gary shifted his line of sight, only for his face to fall into a mixture of horror and disbelief.
'Goddess, please. Not again. Not this again.' A solemn prayer full of depression was once more given this day. Alas, his sobs went unanswered.