Arden rushed out with the medical kit in hand, his steps heavy but precise. Marella was already by Ronan's side, pushing a chair toward him so he could sit down before collapsing.
Trafalgar sat nearby, his gaze scanning the scene. Around them, a few other customers watched, but none seemed shocked. It was as if this sort of thing happened often here.
'Yeah… in the first game it was even worse. Back then it wasn't just two old people running this place—they had a lot more staff dealing with stuff like this.'
"Hold on, Ronan, don't fall asleep, stay with me," Arden urged.
Marella pulled out a small bottle of strong liquor from the kit and passed it to Ronan. He began drinking in quick gulps, the burn of the alcohol mixing with the sharp pain radiating from the stump where his arm used to be. It wouldn't numb the pain immediately, but it would make him a bit tipsy and help him endure.
