Out of the shadows, Korrok dashed to my side. His normally stoic face was twisted in a mask of concern. Without a word, he hefted me onto his shoulder, rushing towards the healers' station. "Hang in there," he urged, voice filled with worry.

The medicinal scent of the healer's station hit me as I was laid on a table. The healer, a tall, slender woman with raven-black hair, studied my arm with deepening concern. "This is no ordinary venom," she murmured. "It's necrotic in nature. If it's from the undead, as I suspect, it will spread and claim you."

Panic surged, threatening to drown me. "Can you stop it?" My voice sounded desperate, alien even to my ears.

"We can remove the infected tissue," she said, choosing her words carefully. "But you'll lose a significant part of the arm."

My mind raced, torn between the horror of amputation and the dread of becoming one of the undead. "Do it," I finally whispered.

The healer turned to Korrok. "Hold him down. This will be excruciating."

As she gathered her instruments, a familiar voice rang out, melodious and warm. Elyria, the Celestial Elf Bard, her silver hair cascading down like a moonlit waterfall, approached. "I watched from the stands. How can I help?"

"Distract him," the healer said. "Keep him calm while we operate."

Elyria nodded, positioning herself so I could see her, and began recounting her life's story. "I always loved to sing," she began. "The first phase of my life was a blur of strings and songs. The memories are precious."

Even as the pain intensified and my senses began to fade, her voice anchored me, providing a semblance of comfort amidst the agony. She told of a war on her world with a race of Shadow Elves, and her reluctant decision to become a part of the Grand Tournament not as a fighter but as a mentor. Her goal was gain strength and resources so she could see the galaxy. Every word she said painted a picture, offering a momentary escape from my reality.

But as the healer continued her work, severing the corrupted tissue, my hold on consciousness waned. Elyria's voice seemed to grow even more melodious, ethereal even. My vision blurred, and her elfin features began to shimmer, replaced by the image of an angel, bathed in radiant light.

The final act, cauterizing the wound, sent a searing pain through my entire being. A gut-wrenching scream tore from my throat before the world turned black, the last strains of Elyria's voice lulling me into unconsciousness.

The world slowly swam into focus as I blinked, my senses returning. Disoriented, I looked down at my right hand, a reflex action. The fingers flexed, and a sigh of relief escaped my lips. My gaze shifted to the left, dreading what I might find. The sight of the stump where my left hand used to be brought a fresh wave of anguish. The harsh reality of what transpired struck me like a physical blow, the world once again blurring, but this time with threatening tears.

Just as the weight of sorrow threatened to pull me under, a soft cough nearby refocused my attention. Korrok stood by my side, his face etched with empathy.

Before he could say anything, I collected myself, brushing away the encroaching emotions. He nodded in acknowledgment. "I'm sorry, Everett," Korrok said, his voice heavy. "It could have been worse, you're lucky actually. A few more minutes and we might've lost you to the undead curse."

I looked down at my missing limb, trying to imagine how I would continue my journey. "I've always fought with both hands," I muttered, disheartened. "Now, what chance do I stand?"

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Korrok shrugged. "I was able to work out a short-term solution for you.”

I raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"After the surgery, Elyria and I realized that for you to stand a fighting chance, we had to adapt and evolve. She helped me liquidate some of your extra assets, and combined with your quest earnings, we approached the blacksmith and tried to figure out some options for you. The catch was, he had limited time. He offered a short-term fix, but who knows what we can do for you in the long term."

The glimmer of hope ignited within me. "When can I see it?"

Korrok glanced out of the tent, judging the position of the sun. "In about an hour. Go grab a bite and then head to the blacksmith's shop. Time is of the essence."

"Is Elyria here?" I asked, remembering her comforting presence from the previous night.

Korrok shook his head. "She stayed the entire night, watching over you. But she had to leave this morning for her shop. You can thank her later. Right now, you need to focus."

Drawing a deep breath, I nodded, determination replacing the earlier despair. "Alright, let's do this. I've got another fight tomorrow, and you either win or you die so I need to be ready."

Stepping away from Korrok's side, I squared my shoulders and headed for the chow hall, the rumbling of my stomach reminding me of the strength I had lost and needed to recover. The tantalizing aroma of grilled meats and veggies hit me, and I realized the galley was buzzing with more people than I'd ever seen. All around, champions from various quests and arenas were sharing tales, laughing, and enjoying a camaraderie I hadn't experienced.

My journey had always been a lonely one, with only fleeting interactions with Elyria and Korrok to break the solitude. These champions had walked a different path. They had bonded, supporting one another through thick and thin. Although I had never been a part of such a group, there was a silver lining to my solitary journey: I never had to eliminate someone I had grown close to.

Choosing a quiet corner, I gathered my food. But even in my attempt to stay unnoticed, I could hear the whispered jabs. "Look at the maimed champion," one sneered, while another laughingly remarked, "The purging storm's been tamed, it seems." And then, the most derisive of all, "There goes the washroom prince."

Anger surged within me, I felt it rising, ready to unleash. Standing up, I fixed a glare on one of the ridiculers. But before I could confront them, an imposing shadow cast over me.

A massive Ork, his skin reminiscent of dark moss and with large tusks jutting out from his jaw, positioned himself between me and the mockers. His eyes, full of depth and understanding, met mine. The fierceness I expected wasn't there. Instead, there was a palpable intensity that stopped me in my tracks.

"You," he began, his voice deep and commanding, filling the silence, "have been a sight to behold. Your ferocity, your skill, many have been inspired by it." Pointing to the scars and battle marks on his arm, he continued, "In my homeland's tribes, an injury like yours," nodding toward my missing hand, "is seen as a mark of shame. A warrior so injured would typically leave the tribe, venturing out to seek an honorable death." Without another word, the Ork turned and walked away.

Watching the Ork disappear from sight, the jeers and taunts from the champions became a mere whisper in the background. The storm of anger within me was replaced by a newfound determination. Leaving the galley behind, I made my way towards the blacksmith, a fiery determination evident in my gaze. This was just the beginning.

The familiar sounds of metal clashing and hammering grew louder as I approached the courtyard, guiding me directly to the blacksmith's den. Soon, Korrok's imposing form became visible, leaning casually against a post outside.

As I approached, he straightened up and greeted me, "Ah, you're here. The blacksmiths have just finished your tool. They're fetching it now."

My eyebrow shot up in question, "They?"

Korrok's face showed a brief moment of confusion before he explained, "Yes, there are two of them. New faces. They mentioned knowing you, which I found... interesting."

Before I could respond, a familiar cacophony echoed from within the shop. The bickering voices, playful banter, and the clashing of metal — I recognized them instantly. My heart raced in anticipation.

As the doors burst open, there they were: Soot and Spark, the blacksmith twins. Their leather aprons bore the marks of intense work, their faces were smeared with ash, but their smiles? Just as radiant as I remembered.

"Everett!" Spark's voice rang out in delight. "Been a while, hasn't it?" Soot's grin matched his brother's in its width and warmth.

Overwhelmed by the sudden reunion, I rushed forward, pulling them into a tight embrace. "What on earth brought you two here?" I laughed.