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“He’s got many hematomas on him, and a lot of the bony parts in his face and body are badly injured,” the elf girl detailed as he observed Lirzod’s body. “This is a critical case. I’m only an herbalist, so I’m afraid I can only do so much.” Sariyu frowned, and her chest caved in as if fear coiled around her heart and squeezed out plenty of hope. “How many hours he’s got?”

Holding in her arms, a boy who looked so wounded and hurt, he might as well be dead, Sariyu plastered on an emotionless expression, like a still volcano, ready to burst out all the raging fire in her stomach. “You want to save your friend? His death will be on you, not on us. Besides, you were only given two options, to begin with!” all the seven men attacked Sariyu, throwing their knuckle fists at her mercilessly, but to their surprise, they ended up hitting each other’s knuckles as she jumped high. Using one of the men’s heads as footing, she landed about a dozen feet away and didn’t stop, leaving the men in a mild surprise, but they quickly chased her.