"Help... " I called out weakly, my voice barely more than a raspy whisper carried by the damp cavern air.

The approaching group halted abruptly.

"Did you hear that?" one voice questioned with caution.

"Hear what?" another replied, skepticism evident in the tone.

"I think i heard someone's voice." the first voice insisted, trying to pinpoint my direction.

Encouraged by their pause, I mustered what little energy I had left and called out again, hoping to clarify my presence and my dire need for assistance. "Please... help."

"Again!"

This time, more voices chimed in agreement. "Oh! I heard it now."

The torchlight grew steadier and brighter as they cautiously made their way towards where I lay. The shadows shortened as the light approached.

WARNING: Your health is critically low! Immediate medical attention is required!

"Leader, look over there! Someone's dying."

"Hmm..."

Relief washed over me as the group took notice.

Approaching were five individuals, each clearly part of a well-coordinated class composition. Their appearance and gear suggested they were seasoned adventurers, possibly used to the challenges of Dungeon End.

Leading the group were two robust men, their outfits armored strategically at key points—joints and shoulders were protected, and chain mail safeguarded their torsos. Each had a sword secured at his waist, indicating their readiness for combat and their role as vanguard.

Behind the two men, the group's composition continued to reveal a well-rounded team.

There stood two women and another man.

The first woman wore tightly fitted clothing that lacked any visible armor, suggesting her class favored agility and evasion over the restrictive weight of traditional protection.

An attire that indicated a focus on freedom of movement. At her wrists, she carried two short daggers, complemented by a small crossbow slung across her back—a clear arsenal of a ranged damage dealer, prepared for both close and ranged encounters.

Trailing the group were the final two members, both adorned in robes richly detailed with designs that signified their roles as magic users.

Despite the similarities in their attire, their equipment markedly distinguished their specific functions within the party.

One of them, a man, carried a staff that was topped with a brightly glowing gem, hinting at his role as a mage, likely specializing in casting offensive spells. The gem on his staff suggested it was a focal point for channeling magical energy, a common tool used by magic specialized classes.

Lastly, beside him, a woman clutched a thick tome to her chest, held in place by her crossed arms as if it were a precious cargo.

This book was likely a grimoire, essential for a spellcaster whose expertise might lean more towards enchanting, or other forms of buffs and debuffs. Her role could involve more strategic or supportive magic, contrasting with the direct offensive capabilities of her staff-wielding companion.

"H-help..." I managed to whisper for a third time, my body sprawled helplessly on the cold ground.

My head struggled to lift itself on the figures approaching, and my vision was blurring, the edges darkening as consciousness threatened to slip away.

Thankfully, I was able to call out for help before darkness completely overtook me. I felt a momentary relief, believing that god had heard my call for help.

"Ah, not this again! Every time we come down here, it's the same story. Why are there always so many of these rats stumbling around?" grumbled the second swordsman, clearly annoyed, as he glanced down at me with disdain.

'...N-no!'

"You should get used to this by now, Dylan. Rats are common, be it inside or outside the dungeon. We'll always encounter a few of them during our expedition." responded the dagger-wielding woman, with a tone of resignation.

Her words and his dismissive reference to 'rats'—clearly aimed at slum inhabitants.

It dawned on me that my initial feeling of rescue might quickly turn into a struggle for genuine assistance.

'Please, don't let this be true...'

"What a pitiful sight," remarked the staff-wielding mage from the back, observing my condition. "It hasn't been long since we've entered the dungeon, and look at him already. From the look of his injuries, he likely had a run-in with a Viscous Fiend. His leg's been corroded, which must have deteriorated rapidly. No wonder he can't walk, forcing him to crawl like this."

His words, though accurate, echoed with a tone of indifference that chilled me, emphasizing how commonplace such misfortunes were.

"Haha, really? Taken down by a single slime? Those creatures are slow and straightforward to handle. He must have some pretty useless skill to end up in such a state from that." Dylan remarked, his tone laced with disdain as he scoffed at my predicament.

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WARNING: Your health is critically low! Immediate medical attention is required!

Feeling a wave of despair and pain, I gathered my fading strength to plead for a fourth time, "H-help..." My voice was weak, barely a whisper, but filled with urgency.

My eyes desperately sought the two silent figures in the group—the leader at the front and the quiet woman in the back. They had only observed so far, their expressions unreadable.

I hoped that perhaps their silence indicated a depth of compassion not found in their outspoken companions.

"Should we help him?"

"Leader, come on, are you doing this again?" Dylan interjected, his voice tinged with amusement as he echoed his leader's smile.

"He's always been like this." the dagger-wielding woman added, rolling her eyes slightly.

Ignoring their comments, the leader continued, his voice firm with resolve. "Come on, guys. We're fellow adventurers. It's our duty to help someone begging for his life. We do have an extra healing potion. Esthes, please get the spare."

"Yes, leader." The silent woman at the back replied without hesitation, her previously silent demeanor giving way as she reached into her pouch to retrieve a small red vial.

'...I'm going to live!'

"Now, my friend, while I genuinely want to help you by offering this healing potion, it's our only spare for emergencies. The final decision isn't mine alone to make, so my party members will vote on whether to give you the potion. Rest assured, my vote will be in your favor." His smile seemed to radiate a comforting warmth, a beacon in the dim light of the cavern.

'...I'm going to die.'

As the leader's words floated through the damp air of the cavern, my heart sank. I knew deep down that his show of sympathy was just a cruel game.

He was dangling hope in front of a dying man only to snatch it away for his own twisted amusement.

"Anyone in favor, raise your hand."

Silence followed his request. Not a single hand was raised.

"Well, my friend, it truly is a shame. It seems my companions deem it more prudent to safeguard this potion in case of imminent danger. I'm sure you understand; the dungeon can be quite merciless." the leader said, his tone feigning regret.

'You didn't even try to help me, you bastard!' I thought furiously.

"But..." he continued, as if to offer another glimmer of false hope.

'I know your game,' I thought bitterly. 'You're just playing with me, giving me hope only to crush it again for your amusement.'

But as he spoke, my focus never wavered from the most critical item in this exchange—the healing potion. It was clear these people weren't going to help me.

I had to take matters into my own hands. Weak and fading fast, I had nothing left to lose.

'Slimes, I don't know if you can understand me without my voice, but you're all I've got left. I hope our bond is strong enough to transcend words.'

Mentally directing my remaining strength, I called to Slime 2, hoping it could sense my urgent need. 'Slime 2, if you can hear me, stealthily make your way to the ceiling directly above the woman holding the red vial.'

If I couldn't physically snatch the potion, maybe, just maybe, my loyal slime could intervene on my behalf.

"But, if you have something of equal or greater value to trade for the potion, I'm willing to make that exchange. We wouldn’t even need to consult the others; it’d just be a fair trade between two adventurers."

'There it is, just as I expected,' I thought bitterly. 'He knows perfectly well I have nothing valuable on me. But I need to stall for time...'

"In... my... pocket..." I managed to rasp out, feigning the possibility of a hidden treasure.

"Oh? So you do have something worthwhile?" The leader’s interest piqued, his tone a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

"He does? A street rat like him? Doubtful." Dylan scoffed, clearly not buying into the idea.

"Well, there's no harm in checking to see for ourselves, right?" the leader reasoned as he began to approach me, his steps cautious yet intrigued.

As the leader rummaged through my pockets, I silently pleaded for Slime 2 to execute the plan. But there was no movement; no sign that my mental command had reached or been understood. 'It was a long shot anyway...' I thought despondently.

The leader’s hand finally found something in my right pocket. He pulled out the small, red-tinged crystal—my hard-won crystallized heart. As he held it up, Dilan burst into laughter.

"Hahaha! Is this what he thinks is valuable?" Dilan's laughter echoed off the cavern walls, mocking and cruel.

The others joined in, even the woman with the vial couldn't help but smirk, briefly breaking her composed façade to indulge in the ridicule.

"I see." the leader said, holding the crystal up to the light. "This is the crystallized heart you risked your life for. To you, this might seem valuable, a trophy of survival. But I'm afraid its worth is negligible compared to that of the healing potion. I really did want to help you, but you’re not making it easy for me."

His words stung, dripping with feigned sympathy that didn't mask his dismissive cruelty.

He stood up, giving me one final pitying look. "I will pray for a more fortunate life in your next incarnation." he said solemnly as he pocketed the crystal for himself, then turned to leave.

"Hahaha!" Dylan's laughter followed me as the group moved past, leaving me alone with my pain and the fading echo of their scorn.

'Just like that, abandoned...' I thought bitterly, my last shred of hope dissolving as the light from their torches receded into the distance.

"HAAAA!"

The sudden shriek tore through the damp air of the cavern, abruptly halting the departing group.

My lips twisted into a satisfied smirk as chaos unfolded before my fading sight.

"GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF!" The woman's frantic cries echoed, her voice rising in panic.

"What the hell is that?!"

"A SLIME! IT'S ON MY HEAD! IT'S GOING TO RUIN MY FACE! GET IT OFF ME!"

My last desperate gamble had paid off. It seemed my silent command to Slime 2 had somehow gotten through.

It had stealthily navigated across the ceiling, timing its drop perfectly as the group moved forward, making its stealthy approach easier.

With precise timing, it had dropped directly onto the head of the woman holding the healing potion.

The others scrambled in confusion and disgust, trying to help her while keeping their distance from the slimy intruder.

The situation was exactly what i had hoped for.