Arthur's consciousness drifted between life and death, it was likes his soul was nestling in a void of nothingness, his body wracked with pain, his mind teetering on the edge of oblivion. His last memory was the Commander's cold gaze as he walked away, leaving him to die in the frozen wasteland. But now—
He was awake.
The first thing he noticed was warmth. Not the suffocating heat of fire, but a gentle, soothing warmth wrapping around his battered body. His eyelids felt heavy, but with effort, he managed to pry them open. The dim glow of a flickering lantern illuminated a small tent-like structure. Thick furs and cloth covered him, insulating him from the cold.
Then, he noticed her.
Sitting just a few feet away, a stunning blonde-haired girl rested against the wooden wall of the tent, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Even in sleep, she looked serene, delicate, yet something about her presence radiated an inner strength.
Arthur swallowed, his throat dry and raw. He tried to move, but a sharp pain shot through his chest and the gaping space where his right arm should have been. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to breathe steadily.
"How… am I alive?" he whispered, barely recognizing his own voice.
He turned his gaze to the girl, piecing together what must have happened. She had treated his wounds. He wasn't dead because of her. But why? Why would anyone help him?
A quiet groan escaped the girl's lips as her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she stared at him, her expression blank with sleep. Then, realization struck her.
"You're awake?" she gasped, scrambling to sit upright. "That's impossible! You should still be unconscious after losing that much blood!"
Arthur forced a weak smirk. "Guess I'm just stubborn."
She studied him for a moment, as if trying to decide if he was truly alive or if she was seeing a ghost. Then, with a sigh of relief, she relaxed slightly.
"I'm Adora," she said, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "I found you lying in the middle of the battlefield… more dead than alive. You were barely breathing. I couldn't just leave you there."
Arthur let her words settle in. This girl, this stranger, had risked her life to save him. He didn't know whether to be grateful or suspicious. But right now, none of that mattered.
He had an idea.
"Adora… I need you to bring me one of the dead warriors' corpses."
Adora blinked. "What?"
"I need their blood." His voice was firm despite his weakened state. "Trust me, it's the only way I can recover."
Adora hesitated, confusion and concern flashing in her emerald eyes. "You're in no condition to be messing with corpses. And the Commander is still in the camp. If he catches me—"
"I know the risks." Arthur cut her off. "That's why you have to stay hidden. But if you don't do this… I will die."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, torn between fear and the strange determination in his eyes. Finally, she exhaled and nodded. "Fine. But if you die on me after all this effort, I'm going to be very pissed."
Arthur chuckled weakly. "Deal."
It took some time, but eventually, Adora returned, dragging a lifeless Frost Warrior's corpse behind her. She wiped her forehead, glancing at Arthur. "I still don't get what you're planning."
Arthur didn't answer. His remaining hand trembled as he grabbed the body and pulled it closer. His entire being screamed for sustenance, for power.
Then, he sank his teeth into the cold flesh.
Adora gasped, her eyes widening in horror as Arthur ripped off the blood-soaked bandages around his wounds. His lips were stained crimson as he devoured the dead warrior's essence. The deep wounds on his torso began closing at an unnatural pace, flesh knitting together as if time itself was reversing.
Even the wound across his whole chest, that was so deep that his organs could flow out at any moment, slowly began to close itself.
Adora stepped back. "What… what the hell?"
Arthur groaned, his body shaking as the power surged through him. The real shock came when he felt a burning sensation where his missing arm should have been. He stared in disbelief as blood pooled from the wound, swirling unnaturally, forming tendrils of liquid that twisted and shaped into the outline of a limb.
The pain was beyond anything he had ever felt. It was as if molten iron was being poured into his veins, reshaping him from the inside out. He clenched his teeth, his fingers digging into the frozen ground as his new arm took form.
A fully rebuilt limb—red like blood, shifting, pulsing with raw energy. And the best thing was that the blood red limb slowly turned into a natural color.
Arthur panted, staring at his hand, flexing his fingers as the crimson hue faded into natural skin. Even he hadn't expected this. He knew Blood Feast could heal wounds, but regenerating an entire arm?
Arthur realized something using Blood Feast so often. Arthur was either able to gain more strength or heal himself from wounds. But he couldn't do both at the same time, so if he heals himself he can't grow stronger one bit.
After consuming all blood from the Warrior his body was fully restored even his arm looked just it was before, maybe even a little bit more robust.
Adora, still frozen in shock, finally found her voice. "You… What the hell are you?"
Arthur exhaled, his smirk returning despite the lingering pain. "Ahh me? I'm just a kid from the streets."