The occasional sound of dripping water, the approaching sound of footsteps, and the noise of his own, strained breathing kept Arthur awake, preventing him from entering a slumber he may never be able to escape.
The barrier held strong, protecting the crimson-eyed man from the few pursuers that hadn't perished during the explosion. However, Arthur wasn't certain whether he could survive with such wounds.
The flesh was ripped from his body, leaving only remnants of tendons and his bare skeletal structure. Blood splattered on the floor, and was diluted by the dirty water that traveled rapidly, brushing across Arthur's body.
'I don't have any mana,' thought Arthur, his pained expression displaying the sheer severity of his condition. The threat of death loomed over his head, and with only a single drop of mana that was essential to keep his mana circuits from collapsing, he couldn't regenerate.
He had reached a dead-end.
