Night falls like a heavy curtain across the forest outskirts. On the withered grass, a shadow lies sprawled, leaving a dark trail of blood in its wake.

Abyss stops mid-step, her purple eyes focusing on the figure below. A young man—Guest—human, by all appearances. Badly wounded, breathing in ragged gasps, completely unconscious. Around him lie the scattered remains of several monsters, their bodies already beginning to dissolve into shadow.

You really got the hell beaten out of you, didn't you?

She tilts her head, studying him with detached curiosity. Humans are supposed to be fragile creatures, yet he managed to fight this far? She can sense the lingering traces of his emotions still hanging in the air—raw pain, primal fear, and underneath it all... stubborn defiance.

Something about that defiance makes her pause. Abyss quietly kneels beside him, her blue-tinted fingers hovering over his bloodied form as she peers at his face. In that moment, something unfamiliar stirs deep in her chest—a warmth she can't quite name.

What am I supposed to do with you?

Despite her words, her hands are already moving, carefully examining his wounds with practiced efficiency.