Three days blurred together in a rhythm of wrap, bind, cut, repeat.
Morning light, pale and cold, would creep into the stone chamber.
Harold would stretch the knots from his fingers, shake the ache from his wrists, then conjure another set of rods, another roll of bandages, and go again.
Jini endured it, if "endure" was the right word—more often it looked like silent suffering wrapped in a cloak of contempt.
By the end of the first day, she'd taken to rolling her eyes at every attempt he performed.
By the second, her tentacles twitched whenever he asked her to hold still.
By the third, she no longer even bothered with sarcasm.
And yet Harold couldn't stop.
Each level, each new refinement, pushed him forward.
Casting had ticked up again, crossing into Level 2 with a sudden, almost celebratory flare.
With it came the ability to do more than twine rods to a limb—now the system provided rolls of cotton bandages soaked in some chalky substance.
Plaster?
Glue?
He didn't know.
All he knew was that when he wound them tightly around Jini's leg, the wet wrap dried stiff and hard within minutes.
A real cast.
His heart had soared the first time it worked, the brittle shell forming beneath his hands.
But Jini's reaction had been less than celebratory.
She hissed when the cold bandages touched her skin.
She flinched when the hardening plaster pinched tight.
And by the fourth attempt, she gave a sharp growl that made Harold almost drop everything in his hands.
"Enough!"
The word cracked the silence like a whip.
Harold froze, half-roll of damp bandage dangling between his fingers.
"What? I—uh—it's just one more try—"
She shoved herself upright, ignoring his startled protests.
"I tire of your… wet bindings," she snapped, swinging her injured leg over the side of the bed.
"Hey, wait—careful!" Harold scrambled forward, hands out as if he could catch her fall.
But she didn't fall.
For the first time in days, she put weight on the leg.
Slowly, carefully—then firmer, surer.
Her arms braced against the bedframe as she tested her balance.
A grimace carved her face, but she straightened nonetheless.
Harold gaped. "You… you can stand."
"I can walk," Jini corrected flatly.
She stepped forward, stiff at first, then steadier.
the simple cast around her leg clicked against the stone floor, each movement a defiant punctuation.
"But—"
Harold blinked, struggling to process.
"You shouldn't at least a few more days, to let the bone start mending before you try moving around."
Her scowl deepened, though not at him—at herself, maybe, or the betrayal of her own body.
"So you can meddle with me more? No! I've 'healed' enough, enough to leave this place."
"Meddling?" Harold sputtered, indignant. "That's what you call free healthcare?"
She ignored the jab, tentacles coiling around her head as she gathered the remnants of her stuff into her pack.
"Wait, wait—where are you going?"
"Away."
The word dropped like a stone in his gut.
"Away? Just like that?"
"Yes."
She tightened the straps with brisk efficiency, not even sparing him a glance.
"I have wasted too much time sitting idle. To not move forward is death after all. Nor will I waste another moment being wrapped up again and again by that slimy stuff!"
Harold flinched, stung despite himself.
"Hey, I was just trying to help—"
"And you did." Her voice softened a fraction, though it carried no warmth.
He swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry.
"So… that's it? You're just leaving?"
"Yes."
The simplicity of it hurt more than he expected.
She moved toward the mouth of the cavern, each step stronger than the last, determination burning away the stiffness.
Harold sat rooted in place, half-formed words choking in his chest.
He wanted to say I'll come with you.
He wanted to say don't go alone.
Instead, all he managed was a strangled, "Should I…?"
But she didn't answer.
She didn't even look back.
Her silhouette vanished into the pale light of day, tentacles trailing like shadows, and then she was gone.
Harold sat there, stunned.
His hands clenched around the useless bandage roll until the plaster oozed cold against his palms.
Minutes ticked by.
Maybe more.
He wasn't sure.
His thoughts tangled in a mess of regret and uncertainty.
He could follow.
He should follow.
After all, what else did he have?
No map.
No allies.
No plan but survival.
And Jini… for all her barbs and scowls, she'd kept him alive as much as he had her.
But he hesitated.
Hesitation became stillness.
Stillness became paralysis.
And by the time he stumbled outside, blinking into the harsh daylight, she was gone.
Not just around the bend—gone.
No trace of her path.
The silence felt louder without her there.
Harold rubbed his face, groaning.
"Brilliant. Just brilliant. First friend I've had in this hellhole and I let her walk right out."
His voice echoed back from the stone walls, mocking him.
He stood there for a long time, staring at the empty horizon, until the weight of choice pressed down harder than the cast he'd wrapped her in a hundred times.
Alone again.
And for the first time in days, no ding came to break the silence.
At least there was one saving grace, the berries and nuts he'd found before turned out to be edible, and the Rellke meat was exceptional as jerky even if lacking in seasoning like salt or smoking wood.
His food supplies would last him even rationed for a few more days, by then he'd need to make a decision, become a vegetarian, or head in to at least check out the city and maybe find a way to sell his services to afford food and rent on a place.
But if he kept on forgaing he could probably press his food situation to a week maybe two, before a real desicion was needed.
Not that he was afraid of the city, actually he was completly terrified of the place.
Imagine, a city with millions of hostile lifeforms like Jini, all of whom would kill you so much as look at you.
Not to mention his 'healing' was looked down upon, it wouldnt be surprising if someone picked a fight to off him just because he was bothering to save some weaking he was run over by a car, or who cut themselves on a rusty nail catching tetnus.
The locals would all just say, 'Pah weak enough to be killed by a nail, what a joke!'