The white walls of the hospital seemed to press in on John as he leaned back against the bedframe. Days had passed since his conversation with Evelyn and the news about Zak’s team, but the weight of it lingered like an unwelcome guest. The routine of waking, eating, and resting had begun to blur together, each moment dragging on as he waited for something to change.
But there was some good news. First, he left his VIT attribute to its maximum, and his healing with the medication was going fine. Very fine, actually, that's suspicious. Initially, he was expected to leave after a month and require another one or two months to fully recover, but recent checkups had drastically shortened that timeline.
But his last checkup showed he would only need three weeks to leave and another 15–25 days to be fully healed. A week had already passed, leaving only two more weeks before he could finally leave this depressing place. He didn’t know why his healing was progressing so quickly, but he wasn’t about to question it.
The second piece of good news was that his attributes started going up as his body healed. like it constructing itself to be stronger. To handle more challenges.
One thing that has been lingered on his mind lately was the martial arts. John relied heavily on his talent, Double-Focus, for his reaction speed and coordinated body movements. He wasn’t sure if traditional martial arts could be applied to his unique abilities—or if they’d even be useful in his case.
But he wouldn’t know until he tried. So, he took his time to note down any martial arts that interested him. He didn’t know if BMI had an instructor or someone professional who could give him some pointers.
‘There has to be someone who can teach me, right? I can’t be the only one with a physical talent,’ John pondered, shifting in bed to find a more comfortable position while holding his phone. ‘But most people with pure physical talents are probably in the fighting department... Would I even be able to ask them for help?’
A soft chime interrupted his thoughts. John glanced at his comm, the notification light blinking insistently. He tapped it, and a message from the nurse station appeared:
(Agent Lyons and Agent Ballard are now awake and stable. Visiting hours begin at 10 a.m.)
John’s heart quickened. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as his sore muscles protested the movement. Despite the lingering pain, a sense of urgency pushed him forward. He needed to see them. To understand what had happened inside that dungeon.
The medical wing was quiet as John approached the room indicated in the message. His footsteps echoed faintly, the antiseptic scent of the air sharp in his nostrils. Outside the room, he paused, his hand hovering over the door handle. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Maxwell and Toby... What state were they in after such an ordeal? What scars—physical or otherwise—had the elite dungeon left on them?
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and opened the door.
Inside, two figures wrapped in heavy bandages sat propped up against their bed frames. Maxwell's larger frame was unmistakable, though his usual stoic demeanor seemed replaced by something quieter, more subdued. Across the room, Toby lay still with his eyes closed, his right sleeve pinned where his arm used to be. John’s heart ached at the sight, their injuries leaving him profoundly shaken.
Maxwell noticed him first, his face breaking into a tired smile. “John,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Are you also hurt?”
John forced a smile as he stepped inside. “Yeah, the day after you went in, there was a dungeon outbreak. I was called in as one of the defenders.” he replied. His gaze flicked to Toby, who stirred at the sound of his voice. Slowly, Toby’s eyes opened, their usual spark replaced by something darker. His eyes flickered briefly with a mix of emotions—discomfort, anger, perhaps even guilt—before he closed them again, shutting the world out without a word.
“An outbreak! What happened?” Maxwell groaned, pain evident as he turned his head toward John.
“There, there! Be careful.” John pulled up a chair beside Maxwell’s bed. “It was an emergency. I was called in the middle of the night, and with other elven agents, we want to stop any monster coming out from the dungeon.”
“Mhm…” Maxwell listened attentively, while Toby winced as tried not to look like he was listening.
“And it was... bad.” John paused for a moment before continuing."Like, really, really bad. The worst kind of bad... well, not the absolute worst, but it was on the top ten worst things that could've happened. “
“Mhm… and?” Maxwell's eyes didn’t leave John as he waited for him to explain.
“Due to equipment malfunctions and delays in repairs, the dungeon was discovered too late. The entire town was forced to evacuate, and then... John explained in great detail what had transpired. As John reached the final part, Toby's heavy breathing filled the room
As he reached the final part, the air grew heavy with Toby's labored breathing as his emotions fluctuated.
John pretended not to notice Toby's fluctuating emotions and shifted the conversation to a more casual topic, finding it hard to bring up the question of what happened in the dungeon. Though it might not seem like it, John was ten years older than Toby and nine years older than Maxwell. He could internalize and stabilize his emotions quickly, given what he had been through.
Not anything dramatic, but after his years of trying to understand what he wanted, he started to have a better grasp over his emotions and mental state. Of course not always, and he might let his emotions get the better of him sometimes, but he would always try to bring them under control and make sure what led his life was not a moment of emotion outburst.
But he couldn’t be sure Maxwell and Toby would handle the situation the same way. Losing a teammate and an arm couldn’t have been anything but a deeply traumatic experience for them. So, John was afraid of asking about what had happened in the dungeon now, as they had just woken up not long ago and still had the dungeon experience fresh in their minds.
By sharing his experience of the dungeon outbreak, John hoped to let them know they weren’t alone in facing horrors. For now, he’d wait. Let them recover; let the weight of the experience settle. But sooner or later, he would know what happened in that dungeon, and he’d try to make sure they felt his support.