Mikhailis groaned as he woke up, blinking against the dim light seeping through the cracks in the stone ceiling above him. His entire body ached, a dull throbbing reminding him of the "friendly" sparring session with the Goblin Apostle. He shifted, feeling the rough fabric mat beneath him, a small comfort in the otherwise unwelcoming goblin fortress.
I'm still here, huh...
He sighed, slowly sitting up. His ribs twinged in protest, and he rubbed them absently, recalling the heavy iron club that had crashed into his side. The memory made him wince, but it wasn't just the pain from the fight that was on his mind—it was what had happened after.
