Xylon's body lay sprawled on the ground, his breathing labored and his leg throbbing with pain. Every movement felt like a herculean effort, and he struggled to gather his strength.
Nyxera, visibly concerned, knelt beside him, her expression filled with worry and compassion. With a gentle touch, she placed her hand on his cheek, offering comfort and support.
"Lord, take your time," she softly uttered, her voice carrying a soothing tone. Her presence provided solace amidst the chaos that surrounded them. Xylon, with his weary eyes, looked into hers, without saying anything .
Xylon's frustration lingered as he sat next to Nyxera, his gaze fixed upon the ancient box he had retrieved from the depths of the dungeon.
It was a constant reminder of his physical limitations, a source of annoyance that gnawed at him.
He took a moment to catch his breath, allowing his body to recover from the exertion and regain some semblance of strength.
