"Pfft!" The black-cloaked man coughed up blood, clutching his chest in agony.
Had his mask fallen off, anyone would've seen the pale, pain-stricken face beneath.
"Damn it… How is she still alive?" He muttered through gritted teeth.
He had believed he held the upper hand—but Zelda was far more cunning than he'd expected.
"Cracked sternum… damn… it hurts…" He groaned, struggling to rise but collapsing again.
Reluctantly, he pulled out another healing pill and swallowed it.
*Buzz!*
His body glowed with a deep black light. Moments later, the wound began to close, though the pain lingered.
With effort, he finally rose to his feet, breathing heavily as his gaze locked onto Zelda, who now stood at the edge of the altar, wearing a cold smile.
"How did you come back to life?" he asked sharply, straightening and wiping the blood from his lips.
"Come back to life?" Zelda chuckled, mockery dancing in her eyes. "Since when did I die?"
Her words struck like daggers.
