[ Cave Weaver Patriarch(Lv7) Defeated: +300 Essence ]
'W-Whoa! 300!'
[ You have obtained: Patriarch's Barbed Leg (x1) ]
[ You have obtained: Unblinking Crimson Eye (x1) ]
[ You have obtained: Vial of Paralytic Venom (x1) ]
Nael stared at the messages, then at the now-fading corpse. The math was clear. The rare monster probably gave 1000 Essence in total; he got 300, while the rest were distributed evenly, by 175, to the members of the party.
'...300. It's like killing 30 Rock-Tails at once!'
He was happy that his decisive actions had been recognized and rewarded by the Great Weave. He even received the lion's share of the spoils. But he still couldn't believe his eyes.
"...Clink."
But his moment of stunned triumph was short-lived. The acrid smell of burning web and monster viscera hung heavy in the air - a beacon for every other creature in these tunnels.
'This is no time to celebrate!'
"Let's leave quickly!" he snapped, his voice cutting through the party's dazed silence.
He swiftly scooped all the loot into his backpack, not giving the others a chance to debate loot rights. "That fight was louder than a city festival. We need to move. Now! Unless you want to be the main course for whatever else is down here."
The urgency in his voice jolted them into action. The archer girl nodded sharply, her earlier despair replaced by focused survival instinct. The healer, though pale, helped the spearman to his feet, letting him lean on her.
Nael didn't wait for permission. He moved to the poisoned boy on the ground, slinging one of the boy's arms over his own shoulders.
"You," he said to the archer, "get his other side."
Together, they half-carried, half-dragged the injured boy, while the healer supported the limping spearman. Nael led the way, retracing his steps at a hurried pace, his senses on high alert, heading back toward the safer, outer regions of the dungeon.
They had just rounded a bend and disappeared down the tunnel when the scene they left behind stirred. From a fissure in the cavern wall, two glowing red eyes blinked open in the darkness. Then four. Then six. A low, collective hiss echoed as a pack of creatures drawn by the commotion investigated the fading scent of blood and essence before slinking back into the shadows, disappointed.
"Huff... Huff..."
After about five minutes of tense, hurried movement, the sounds of the deeper tunnels faded behind them. The passages grew more familiar, marked with the faint symbols of the outer sectors.
"H-Here," Nael said, his voice low but firm as he stopped in a wider, seemingly undisturbed tunnel. "We should be safe for a moment."
He and the archer gently lowered the poisoned boy to the ground against the wall. The healer helped the spearman sit down next to him. For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged panting as the adrenaline began to fade, leaving behind the stark reality of their injuries and their narrow escape.
"Huff..."
The brief respite was just that: brief.
Nael glanced to the side, and the harsh reality of their situation settled over him like a shroud.
Three of them were injured, one critically, and their sole healer looked on the verge of collapsing herself, her face pale and drawn.
Thankfully, the archer girl was much clearer-headed; she was already tearing a strip of cloth from her tunic to bind the spearman's bleeding leg, her movements efficient despite the fear in her eyes.
His gaze then fell on the poisoned boy.
The sickly purple hue had spread from his arm up to his shoulder. A long, vicious slash marked his torso, but his leather armor had thankfully absorbed the worst of the physical blow.
It must be the venom that was killing him.
"Hey," Nael said, his voice low but urgent, addressing the healer girl. "Did he get hit by the Patriarch's [Paralytic Bite]?"
The girl, who was clutching her own knees, looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She nodded weakly. "H-he... he pushed me out of the way. And... And..."
"Can you heal him?" Nael cut her off, though he already suspected the answer.
She shook her head, a sob escaping her. "I-I can't. My Aether pool is drained, and my mind... I can't focus..."
Nael nodded, his mind racing. The boy's breathing was becoming shallower. If the venom wasn't purged soon, the damage would be permanent... if he survived at all.
'Wait!' An idea sparked in his mind. It was a gamble, but it was the only choice they had.
"What's your class and level? How much more essence do you need to reach your next level?" The questions came out rapid-fire.
The healer girl just stared at him, confused and overwhelmed.
The archer girl finished tying off the spearman's bandage and stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on the healer's shoulder. "It's alright, Lyra."
She looked at Nael. "She's a Vitalist. A Rare Grade support class. She's level 4. She was complaining earlier that she needed 150 more essence to hit level 5."
Lyra, the healer, nodded in confirmation, her expression a mix of fear and confusion.
Nael did the math instantly. 175 essence from the Patriarch. She needed 150. It was perfect.
"You have enough. More than enough. Level up now," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "The surge of energy from leveling will completely refill your Aether pool. You might get another healing skill as well. It's the fastest way to save him."
Lyra's eyes widened in realization. "B-but... I need to refine it first! That takes time! He doesn't have time!" She gestured frantically at the dying boy.
"That's why you should hurry!" Nael said, his tone brooking no argument. "Don't worry. We'll watch over you."
The archer girl gave Lyra's shoulder a firm squeeze. "He's right. This is our only chance. His only chance."
Torn between panic and hope, Lyra looked from the dying boy to Nael's solemn but encouraging face.
Taking a shuddering breath, she nodded, a new flicker of resolve in her eyes. She closed them, folding her hands in her lap, and began the intense process of meditation, desperately trying to refine the massive influx of raw essence before it was too late.
"Hey, what-?" The archer girl stopped abruptly.
Because Nael was already moving before Lyra's eyes were fully closed. He dropped his pack and yanked it open, his hands moving fast. He knew exactly what he was looking for.
Among the loot from the Patriarch, his fingers closed around the cool glass of the Vial of Paralytic Venom. But that wasn't his target. He pushed past it, his mind racing through his inventory. He had something else, something he'd prepared for exactly this kind of emergency.
'Where is it... Ah! Found it!'
His fingers brushed against a small, corked ceramic pot. He pulled it out. A label was neatly affixed to its side: Antitoxin Salve (Herbal Grade).
It was one of the basic preparations he'd bought from Old Man Hemlock's apothecary with his meager savings, a general-purpose counter-agent for low-level venoms and poisons. It wouldn't cure the Patriarch's potent toxin, but it might slow its spread, buying Lyra the precious seconds she needed to level up.
He uncorked the pot, revealing a thick, pungent green paste inside.
"Please, hold his arm steady," Nael instructed, his voice calm but firm.
The archer girl, whose name he still didn't know, didn't hesitate. She moved to pin the poisoned boy's twitching arm to the ground.
Ignoring the faint, sickly sweet smell of the venom, Nael scooped a generous glob of the salve onto his fingers.
He began applying it thickly and quickly around the puncture wounds on the boy's forearm, creating a visible green ring around the expanding purple corruption.
The effect wasn't miraculous, but it was immediate. The visible spread of the purple venom slowed from a rapid crawl to a sluggish ooze. The boy's ragged, shallow breathing seemed to hitch, then even out just slightly. It was a stopgap measure, but it was working.
"He's stabilized for now," Nael said, wiping his hands on a clean part of his trousers. His gaze flicked between the dying boy and the meditating healer. The race against time was still on, but they had just been thrown a lifeline.