After the horse came to a stop, it let out a loud neigh, signaling its relief. The cowgirl carefully dismounted, using the saddle as a brace to support her descent. Once on solid ground, she spared a second glance at the spot where the dungeon vortex had once stood before turning her worried gaze toward Leon.
Her face, still beautiful despite its furrowed brow, expressed the concern weighing heavily on her mind. She desperately hoped that things were not as dire as they seemed. She then approached him with respect evident in her gaze.
"Cultivator Sir," she began, her voice filled with urgency, "what about the other adventurers? We are in dire need of your assistance at this very moment." Although her heart sank as she realized that only Leon stood before her, the survivor of the dungeon raid, she refused to fully accept the loss and clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, the others were alive and well somewhere.
