The system's voice was urgent, trembling with something dangerously close to panic.
[Host… please… answer me, Host!]
Alex could barely register it anymore. His mind was fog, his vision flickering between darkness and searing flashes of light.
Even the sensation of his body was slipping away—everything felt distant, disconnected.
Aaron's blows had reduced him to something barely recognizable. Blood streamed freely from a dozen gashes across his body, dripping down his face, soaking through his torn, dirt-caked clothes.
His skin was mottled with deep bruises, his bones cracked in too many places to count. Each breath came as a ragged rasp, and with every exhale, more blood spilled from his lips.
In mere moments, his state had gone from bad to catastrophic.
The ground beneath them groaned and then collapsed entirely, giving way into a massive sinkhole.
