Pixie opened his eyes slowly, his vision blurred and his body nearly immobile. Despite the immense pain, he managed to force himself to his feet, his breaths heavy and ragged from the tremendous fall.
Blood dripped from his head, now darkened from long exposure to the air. His wounds were still open, and he knew if he didn't act quickly to stop the bleeding, he would not survive.
Attempting to move his left hand, Pixie realized it was useless—broken beyond function. His right hand, though slightly better, could barely move.
Looking around, he took in the devastation. Dust and debris surrounded him as he staggered forward, his legs trembling under the weight of his injuries.
"Where am I? Did I fall into one of the deeper floors? Damn it. If I don't stop the bleeding on my thigh soon, I'm done for," Pixie thought, gritting his teeth.
As he continued to walk, faint cries echoed around him, distant and haunting. Blood trickled into his right eye, further obscuring his already limited vision.
"This is bad... really bad," Pixie muttered, his voice weak. His dizziness grew, and he stumbled forward, falling hard onto the ground.
Struggling to push himself up, he glanced at what had tripped him—and immediately regretted it. His stomach churned as he vomited at the sight.
A slave, likely his age, lay headless on the ground. The upper part of their body had been crushed by a large rock, possibly from one of the higher floors. Pixie noticed the remnants of clothing on the body, and despite his revulsion, he ripped pieces of fabric to cover his wounds.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Pixie murmured, disgusted but resigned. Survival demanded sacrifice, even at the cost of his own sanity.
With great effort, he forced himself back onto his feet and continued his search for something—anything—that could help stop the bleeding in his thigh.
His breathing grew shallow, and his movements slowed with each passing moment. The world around him felt increasingly distant as his consciousness began to fade.
Then, something caught his eye.
In the dim light, he spotted the body of a guard—likely one from the higher floors—lying nearby. The guard's belt and a first aid kit lay next to him. Beside the guard was another body, this one dressed like a doctor.
Hope surged through Pixie as he stumbled toward the scene, collapsing in front of the first aid kit. A manic laugh escaped his lips as he opened it, only for his heart to sink.
The kit was empty.
Someone had already taken its contents.
Tears streamed down Pixie's face as he cried out in despair.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?" he screamed, his voice echoing in the desolate chamber.
Fueled by frustration, he pounded the ground with his right hand, his knuckles splitting open as fresh blood joined the mess on the floor. His breathing grew weaker, slower, as he continued to punch until he heard faint footsteps behind him.
Turning sharply, Pixie grabbed the guard's belt—only to realize it wasn't a belt at all, but a whip, likely used to punish slaves like himself. He didn't care anymore. He wrapped the whip around his thigh, tightening it to slow the bleeding, before rising shakily to his feet.
He faced the direction of the footsteps, knife in hand that he also took from the deceased guard, and waited as a shadow emerged.
The silhouette approached, revealing itself to be a blonde girl around his age. Her red eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, her long hair messy and her body riddled with wounds. She looked at Pixie calmly, though he noticed the faint bulge of bandages beneath her clothes—bandages taken from the first aid kit.
"Who are you?" Pixie rasped, his voice barely audible.
"Me?" The girl tilted her head, a faint smirk on her lips. "I'm Elise. But tell me—do you really think, in your current state, you'd be able to take me down?"
"Are you a threat?" Pixie asked, struggling to remain upright.
"I will be if you keep pointing that knife at me," Elise replied coldly.
Pixie chuckled weakly, blinking as his vision suddenly shifted. For a brief moment, he saw through someone else's eyes—Xialdre's. He was confused, glancing around to see Natalia beside him.
But just as quickly as it happened, he was back where he started. Elise now sat on the ground, trembling, blood running down her head.
"What happened?" Pixie muttered, his head spinning.
Elise's voice shook as she glared at him. "Who are you?" she asked, her fear evident.
"What... happened?" Pixie repeated, trying to piece together the fragments of reality.
"How can you still move like that, despite all your wounds?" Elise questioned, disbelief etched on her face.
Meanwhile, back in the town of Mistigan, Xialdre sat silently, his chest rising and falling heavily. For a brief moment, he had not been in control of his own body.
"Master, is something wrong?" Natalia asked, her voice filled with concern.
From Natalia's perspective, Xialdre had suddenly frozen in place, his breathing labored and sweat trickling down his face.
"That… was the perspective of one of my fragments," Xialdre thought, his expression grim. "Somehow, that part of me managed to take control of my body, even if only for a second."
"Master, you're sweating and breathing heavily. Did something happen?" Natalia pressed, her worry growing.
Xialdre stepped back, his thoughts racing as he sank onto a nearby bench.
"There's no way… That fragment of mine is capable of calling upon the main source for help. If that's true, this might be the first time I'll face a fair fight in years—because I'll be fighting myself," he thought, the realization leaving him both apprehensive and intrigued.
Suddenly, Natalia wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Xialdre was caught off guard, his face pressed against her chest as she held him close.
He felt the steady beat of her heart as she whispered, "Master, inhale… Exhale."
He followed her instructions, his breathing slowly stabilizing.
Natalia kissed his forehead gently. "Everything's alright. Calm down," she said softly.
Xialdre blinked, confused by the strange warmth spreading through him. "What is this feeling?" he wondered, his heart stirring slightly even as it remained cold.
Raising his head, he looked at Natalia.
"Are you okay now, Master?" she asked, her tone tender. "I know you know far more than I ever could, but even so, I can still try to comfort you. I know you're emotionless… but maybe I can make you feel a little warmth during these tough times."
For a moment, Xialdre felt something shift within him. Acting on impulse, he kissed Natalia, who responded in kind, the two locked in a brief but tender exchange.