For some stupid reason, I’d expected the safe room to just… heal our wounds. Because that was what safe rooms were supposed to do. Yet again, reality crushed my gaming delusions.

We weren’t miraculously healed. I was bleeding out, and Aerion was poisoned. We’d both be dead in a few moments if I couldn’t come up with a solution.

I looked around desperately. The fountain was back on, the trees that had been rotting away were back to full health, and the barrier held steady. For now.

“The water,” Aerion whispered, sprawled out on the floor. His mouth had started foaming, and I found myself staring, dumbfounded.

He’s going to die.

“I’m sorry, Aerion,” I murmured, avoiding his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Water!” Aerion repeated, more urgently this time.

I gritted my teeth. If that was his dying wish, it felt like the least I could do.

Lacking a vessel to scoop water up, I pulled Aerion—painfully—to the small waterfall I'd drunk from earlier.

“No! Foun...tain.”

He wanted to drink from the fountain instead? I didn't know if it was his delirium talking, but I helped push him up over the edge.

I left a trail of blood behind me. I had to stop the bleeding, but how? All my medical knowledge came from TV shows and Hollywood stuff. I doubted any of that information was worth a damn right now.

We’re gonna die here, aren’t we? My mind raced, eyes searching the room for anything that might help. Nothing. Just the same assortment of fruits and berries as last time.

Aerion gulped water like it was the nectar of life. Not the most dignified way to go, but I suppose relishing your last moments wasn’t so bad.

“Drink!” Aerion commanded, pointing to the water. His voice was full of energy again. Energy and insistence.

I wondered why he was so adamant. Unless… Could it be?

I stuck my head into the fountain’s pool and drank.

My pain immediately subsided. My nonexistent energy replenished in an instant.

I copied Aerion, gulping mouthful after mouthful.

It wasn’t just restoring my energy, I realized. It was healing my wounds!

When I couldn’t drink anymore, I raised my head. Miraculously, all the blood and stains on my body were gone. My tattered clothes unfortunately hadn't received the same treatment, but they were at least cleaner now. More than anything, I felt alive.

It wasn’t like the nectar of life; it was the nectar of life. A panacea. Miracle water.

The sheer irony. When I'd entered the safe room last time, I'd just happened to drink from the nonmagical water source. But how was I supposed to know? They looked the same! And I wasn't in the habit of drinking from fountain water.

I had to find a way to bottle this stuff.

Aerion crossed his arms, and his brows furrowed in confusion. “How could you get this far without knowing this water has healing properties?”

“I, er…” I plopped down on the hard stone, resting my back against a pillar as the fountain’s restorative euphoria subsided.

It made sense, now that I thought about it with a clear mind. Whether it was sleeping in safety, or the miracle water, Safe Rooms generally had some restorative mechanism. I kicked myself for not realizing it earlier, though to be fair, that was the first time I’d ever been so badly injured.

Physically, I felt as good as ever. Better, even. My wounds had closed completely, and as far as I could tell, hadn’t even left any scars. I even had the energy to work on breaking apart most of the rocks I'd Initialized for the Troll fight.

My mind, however, was another matter entirely. That I had just narrowly escaped two life-or-death scenarios was finally hitting me, and the adrenaline that had carried me through was long gone.

Aerion tottered over, standing a few feet away from me. I lifted my head, looking up at him.

“You saved me. Again,” Aerion muttered, averting his eyes. Now that his face was free of grime, he looked shockingly… pretty?

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Well, now that was just unfair. He’d be swarmed by girls back home. Looking at him pissed me off for some reason, so I stared at a pillar instead.

“Again?” My eyes wandered between the various fruit trees and Aerion, realizing how hungry I was with death off the table.

Holding up a finger, he replied, “First, against the obsidian goblins.” He held up a second. “And again, just now. I’d have died twice if it weren’t for you.” Aerion let his fingers fall and he massaged his neck in frustration. “Thank you. Truly.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I could have killed that troll without your help.” I shrugged with my left shoulder half-heartedly. I was ass at taking compliments.

Besides, none of this felt important to me right now. We’d have to get out of here alive to enjoy the luxury of worrying about debts. “Look, it’s no sweat off my back. The way I see it, we’re even,” I said, attempting to console him, though it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“No!” Aerion shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. Water went flying as he shook his head. “I refuse to be indebted to anyone. How can I make this up to you?” He implored, ears turning red at their tips.

I thought back to the goblin fight, where Aerion had refused to call for help. I didn’t know what debts meant to elves—or the people of this world, for that matter. Maybe I was missing its greater meaning, but this just wasn’t the time or the place to be nursing bruised egos.

“Look, it’s pointless keeping tabs on who saved who how many times. If we’re going to team up, you’ll need to trust me.” I found myself scratching a nonexistent itch on my neck. “This relationship can’t be transactional if we want any hope of making it out of here alive.” I was hoping we could move to more important topics. Like our survival plans.

Aerion’s eyes flitted between me and the ground before giving me a resigned sigh. “Just think about what you want from me.” His reply came stilted, as if he was forcing each word out of his mouth. “If it’s within my means, I’ll do it.”

“Alright, fair,” I conceded. This was clearly a sensitive topic for the elf. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry, anyway.”

“Fish?” Aerion asked, tilting his head in confusion. “Sorry, I don’t eat fish.”

I couldn’t help myself—I snorted, but instantly regretted it when Aerion gave me a distinctly not-happy look.

“My bad. I just meant we’ve got larger problems. Y’know, like staying alive? So why don’t you take a seat, and we can discuss what happens now.”

My voice sounded hoarse, even to me. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep, but I needed some answers.

Aerion crossed his legs, sitting across from me. “Now, I go higher.”

“Higher?” I asked. “Where, exactly?”

“To the sixth floor,” Aerion said, averting his eyes, his expression grim.

Interesting. In games, dungeons usually took one of two forms. The first of which were underground caverns, usually with several floors, and where the monsters grew more and more dangerous the farther down you went.

That Aerion was delving deeper into the dungeon by going up likely meant I was in the other common dungeon archetype—a tower of some sort. From the tunnels and caverns, I’d been sure we were underground.

“And why would you risk your life by doing that?” I asked, cocking a brow. “You had some good moves back there, but it’s as clear as day that you’re not a fighter.”

“Sorry?” Aerion asked, tilting his head. “Clear as… day? What does this mean?”

I sighed. “I’m saying you’re obviously not prepared to deal with this place. So why are you here? If I’m going to help you climb this thing, I need to know a bit more about you,” I said. I wasn't asking him to spill his innermost secrets or anything—how could I when I had my own skeletons in the closet? I just needed to know enough to ensure I wasn't walking to my death.

Aerion deflated, sagging his shoulders. “I suppose it is only fair that you know. I was captured by those goblins some time ago. Along with my friend, Emma. My dear companion. I escaped, but she was caught. I need to go back for her,” he said, eyes burning with passion.

Ah. The pieces clicked into place. His loved one. That would certainly do it. Though, I had to wonder why anyone would enter this dangerous place with their lover.

I gazed up at the ceiling for a long moment, then closed my eyes and let out a breath. I needed answers. Everything from the basics to the more advanced stuff, like what kinds of enemies we could expect, the purpose behind the safe rooms, and everything in between. The more knowledge I had, the better able I’d be to come up with strategies that’d keep us safe.

There was just one problem. Asking Aerion these questions was like someone asking me what planet we were on, or what year it was. If I didn’t want to make him think I belonged in a mental facility, I’d need an alibi. Something believable, which no one would question. Something that gave me Carte Blanche.

I immediately thought of the old, cliched standby.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll help, but first, I have a confession to make.”

Aerion’s ears perked up. “Y-yes?”

I stared at the floor, cringing at what I was about to say.

“I… I’ve lost my memories,” I said. “I don’t know how it happened, but it happened once I entered the dun—er, Trial. Maybe it was a monster of some kind. I can’t remember.”

Aerion stared at me for a moment unsurely.

“And yet you seem to remember certain details quite well—”

Then his eyes went wide and his mouth formed into an 'O'.

“Your memory loss. It's from when you hit your head, isn't it? That would explain your fragmented memory. I’m, er, sorry. If it's an injury the Sanctuary's water cannot heal, it must be truly grave.”

“Y-yeah, well,” I said, noting that the water couldn't heal everything. “So, I need you to answer some questions for me. I know how basic and stupid they must sound, but I truly don’t remember anything. Fair enough?”

Aerion looked at me with a mix of confusion and pity but nodded anyway. “Of course. If I can help you, I will happily oblige. It's the least I can do. With two of us—with your strength—we stand a far better chance of successfully rescuing her.”

“Great!” I said. “Then what level are we on, and where are the exits?”

----------------------------------------

“Lost your memories? No! You did not just do that!”

Cosmo, who’d been reclining on a bar stool, his immaculately polished loafers propped up on another, slammed the bar top with a palm. He stared transfixed at a television that would look right at home in a museum, mounted on the ceiling in the corner.

“Great! Then what level are we on,” Greg said on the TV, “and where are the exits?”

Cosmo’s jaw hung open.

Eventually, he couldn’t contain it. Cosmo doubled over, laughing.

“Greg, you clever bastard!”