Seconds Away From Death

Amukelo's encounter with the Dread Wolves was marked by raw desperation and grim determination. The initial clash with the first wolf jolted him violently, the sheer force of the beast's attack pushing him back, a stark reminder of his weakened state. Pain flared across his wounds, each one a testament to the brutal journey they had endured. His legs trembled, barely supporting his weight, a vivid sign of his exhaustion and dwindling stamina.

As he regained his footing, two more wolves pounced, their movements coordinated and swift, designed to overwhelm. Amukelo swayed, nearly losing his balance as he evaded their snapping jaws. With a grunt of effort, he countered, his sword arcing through the air to slash at one of the beasts. The blade bit into the wolf's arm, drawing a snarl of pain from the creature. However, the wound did not prove fatal; the monster did not disintegrate as expected, indicating that the strike wasn't lethal enough, his strength faltering.

Meanwhile, Eliss found herself hard-pressed by another pair of wolves. With Amukelo unable to provide support, she was left to fend off the ferocious attackers on her own. Channeling her energy, she created an extended mana flow, her concentration so intense that her aura visibly shimmered in the air. With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed a potent fire attack. The flame burst forth from behind one of the wolves, as though originating from a specter standing in their midst. The wolves, taken by surprise, leaped back to evade the sudden inferno. But one of them was too slow, while the other barely evaded the attack. 

But Eliss was not done yet. Her mastery over mana manipulation allowed her to change the trajectory of the fire beam repeatedly, her fingers weaving through the air as she directed the deadly dance of her spell. The wolf dodged, its movements agile, but ultimately was caught off-guard and consumed by the fiery onslaught, falling to the ground in a heap of smoldering fur.

Back in the fray, Amukelo struggled to maintain his footing against the relentless assault. Managing to dispatch the now one-armed wolf, he faced the other with a grimace of pain. He attempted to summon the energy for a space-tearing slash, his most potent maneuver. Yet, the attempt faltered; his injuries, the exhaustion that gripped his limbs, and the draining of his mana reserves, all conspired to weaken his execution. The wolf took advantage of his faltering movement, striking him squarely in the chest and sending him flying back several meters.

The impact was brutal, his back hitting the ground hard, the air whooshing out of his lungs. Pain clouded his vision, turning the world around him into a blur of shadows and dim light. As he lay there, the ground cold and unforgiving beneath him, the sounds of the approaching wolves filled his ears. He tried to rise, to mount some form of defense, but his body refused his commands. Exhaustion had taken its toll, and pain anchored him helplessly to the ground.

His breathing became labored, each inhale a struggle, each exhale a whisper of despair. The weight of his injuries, the relentless attacks, and the dire situation pressed down on him, crushing the last remnants of hope he harbored.

As the Dread Wolves closed in, Amukelo's situation grew dire. With his remaining strength waning and his body marred by wounds and exhaustion, he made one last desperate attempt to defend himself. Extending his working arm, he tried to summon the last reserves of his mana, hoping to cast a firebolt that could turn the tide of the attack. However, his powers were depleted, and all that emerged was a feeble spark that flickered and died before it could reach its targets. Lying there, his back against the cold, hard ground of the dungeon, Amukelo felt the chilling embrace of defeat closing in. He braced for the end, his eyes closing in resignation to the fate that seemed inevitable.

But in that moment of despair, salvation came in an unexpected form. Two beams of light, piercing and precise, shot through the cavern and struck the wolves. The creatures howled in agony as they were hit, their bodies collapsing to the ground, lifeless. Startled by this sudden turn of events, Amukelo's eyes flickered open just as Eliss despite her broken leg with all her strength rushed to his side, her voice echoing in his ears, her form doubling in his blurred vision.

"Amukelo!" she screamed, her face a mask of worry and determination. Kneeling beside him, she quickly assessed his condition, her hands hovering over his injuries. "Wait a moment, Amukelo. I might be able to come up with something," she said, her voice tinged with hope.

Turning back to the bodies of the fallen adventurers they had found earlier, Eliss began a frantic search through their belongings. Her hands shook as she rummaged through their bags, her mind racing for any sign of a healing potion or any aid that could save Amukelo. Finally, her fingers closed around a vial filled with a green liquid. Her heart sank as she noticed fungus starting to grow inside it — a sign of contamination, but with no other options available, she made a split-second decision.

Rushing back to Amukelo, she poured the dubious potion into his throat, her hands trembling. Amukelo choked and coughed violently, scratching at his throat as the foreign substance took effect. After a tense moment, he stilled, his coughing subsiding as he looked up at Eliss with bewildered eyes.

"What was that?" he gasped, catching his breath, the pain momentarily receding.

"It was a healing potion I found," Eliss explained, her voice a mixture of relief and concern. "Do you feel better?"

Amukelo took a moment to assess himself. His wounds, though still present, had ceased bleeding, and some semblance of strength seemed to be returning to his limbs. "I guess so... Thank you, Eliss," he murmured, a faint smile touching his lips despite the pain.

Eliss nodded, her expression serious as she glanced back at the bodies of the adventurers. "We will have to search for necessary equipment from them," she said, her voice resolute. "They might have more useful items."

Amukelo understood the gravity of their situation. The necessity of scavenging from the fallen was a grim task, one that neither of them desired, yet it was essential for their survival. He saw the reluctance in Eliss's eyes, a mirror of his own repulsion, but also recognized the resolve that underpinned her suggestion.

Reluctantly, he nodded, agreeing to the distasteful but necessary action. "Let's do it," he conceded, his voice low. Together, they prepared to sift through the belongings of the dead, driven by the harsh demands of their environment and the unyielding will to survive the deadly trials of the dungeon.