An echo of wheezing sighed through the dark corridors of the dungeon, which could be millennia old. Right behind echo, a red-haired, emaciated young man hurried. [Last survivor watches your steps.] Shut up! He shouted in his head as a golden sign appeared on the black background in front of his eyes. A little more, a few more meters. I have to make it. Dum, dum. It pounded on the lad's head. Dum, dum. It was a time before the disaster. [Last survivor shakes his head in disappointment.] I can do it! In his mind, he spoke again to the message that appeared before him. Rays of light illuminated the dusty stone-brick path. He raised his head with all his might to look ahead at the lighted room. He stopped abruptly and looked around. Despite the narrow corridors, the room was much larger. A pedestal with a blazing fire shone around the perimeter of its circular shape, and a huge figure swayed in the centre, the outline of which lad's eyes, unaccustomed to the light, gradually sharpened. But it wasn't the figure causing anxiety and nausea in the redhead, that was caused by the slaughter around: bloody torn limbs scattered casually all over the room, air soaked in fresh blood, red smudges resembling quick brushstrokes, painting of entrails, limbs, flesh, and blood.

He was freed from the abominable trance by the sharp rattling of blades beating against each other. [Last survivor applauds sarcastically.] The look on Lad's face alternated between anger and joy. "Jerro! I'm here! "He exclaimed with relief as he mustered the strength to run forward again. However, easing precautions was a life-threatening mistake. The figure of something standing with its back to lad turned to him as he called. Like a wave of a wand, all his strength and hope left him as he looked into two yellow eyes reminiscent of purulent wounds set in a wrinkled pale face. With a heavy exhalation, death bared his blackened teeth at him, which at first glance weren't sharp, but the broken bones of previous victims stuck between them marked a crushing bite that even a strong armour could not withstand. As one of the four long bony arms stretched to squeeze the annoying feast-disrupting insect into his palm, two swords dug into his massive leg. "Fool! Why did you come back, Akally?!" Jerro shouted as he twisted the blades in the creature's wound with all his might. The pain he caused could not be ignored. Instead of a puny insect, a claw targeted Jerro, gripping his neck with his armour, and Jerro began to choke with a narrowing grip.

[Last survivor is waiting for your reaction.]

"Jerro," he whispered, ignoring the message, his eyes clouded with crocodile tears.

"Save... them," Jerro whisper through a squeezing of grip, pointing to a reclining body nearby.

Akally wiped away his tears and ran, despite the danger, to the nearest fallen. His face was almost unrecognizable, with fractures, blood, and deep wounds, yet Akally knew from his short blond hair and light leather gear that it was Corvus, the explorer of their group. His task was to guide them safely through the pitfalls, yet he was not afraid to fight alongside those on the front line. What he lost in strength, he was catching up with his unprecedented speed and reflexes, but this time the difference between him and his opponent seemed too great. Akally clasped his fingers, "It's not your time yet," he whispered. [Stand up] he said aloud. Corvus's body glowed a golden-white glow, his wounds healed, and colour returned to his reconstructed face. [Last survivor watches the recovery.] He opened his green eyes and sat down with lightning speed. "Look out!" He shouted at the invisible figure. When he saw Akally in front of him, he realized that he was back among the living. Relief did not last long in Corvus, because he saw his companion being crushed by a monster that had taken his life. He tapped Akally on the shoulder, "You know what to do, boy. I'll get you some time." Before the young man could say anything, Corvus grabbed his dagger and sped deftly toward the snow slaughterhouse.

Promptly, the redhead looked around for the next comrade-in-arms and headed for a body in dark steel-red armour. He sat down next to his body and clasped his fingers again. [Rise] The golden-white glow covered the entire armour, the gloved fingers moved slightly, and the person in the armour rose slowly to sit up. [Last survivor marvels at the next revival.] A heavy helmet fell loudly to the ground, revealing Pluvia's long raven hair, a knight defending her allies with an impenetrable shield and courage. If she stood between the evil of the alter and the rest of the group, then there was nothing to fear. However, when she fell among the first, the rest followed. Her red eyes blazed like living fire again. Without a word, she picked up her shield from the ground, which could cover her entire body even with armour, and the barbed flail crushed the enemy's skull as easily as a hammer smashing eggshell. She immediately ran toward Corvus. Before Akally could remind her that she didn't have a helmet, he heard only her [War Roar], which caught the monster's attention, which Corvus had been distracting with his dagger. Although he was not in his best shape, he cut into the pale charred flesh of the monster like a furious beast. Jerro's body fell to the ground at one point. Akally didn't know if help had arrived on time, but he couldn't think at the moment. Exhausted, he stumbled toward the last body.

However, the remaining forces left him a few meters from the target. He fell to the ground, his hands covering his head. The whole world stopped around him, he felt a severe pain from inside his body, he couldn't hold a single thought in his head because of the unbearable throb, his stomach turned inside out, ​​and his muscles did not listen, yet by force of will, he pushed forward crawling like a worm through dust and blood. As the final drop of consciousness faded, he saw another message in front of him: [Last survivor sighs in disappointment.] He was so close, yet so far away. Tears streamed down his dirty face. The last, Dea, the leader and the best archer he had ever known, he could not save. Will it end here? He thought. [Last survivor sends his last greetings.] Last greetings? Does that mean it will be quiet? [Last survivor smiles and wonders if you're sorry.] Akally bit his lip in rage as blood began to flow from him. Patron won't be quiet. Is this a fucking game for you Patrons? But this is not the end. He screamed in his head until he drowned out the throb, reached out in front of him, and touched the tips of two of his fingers Dea's feet. [Rise] Nothing. [Rise] No glow. [Rise] Her motionless body remained unchanged. [Rise] [Rise] [Rise] [Rise] [Rise] Akally repeated, but the cooling body didn't wake up. [Status] said resignedly.

Name: Akally Title: Saint Patron: Last survivor Health 25/100 Mana 0/370 Attributes Strength: 14 Swiftness: 23 Endurance: 12 Magic power: 37 Abilities [Rise] Level A Resurrects the dead person and heals all injuries. [Healing] Level E Heals small injuries. [Strengthening] Level D Increases attributes of allies.

Akally eased his outstretched hand. Although he felt from the beginning that his mana reserves were empty, he believed he could fix everything. Mana depletion is one of the possible causes of death in the alter. Once a person wastes his mana, he exhausts his life force. If he has an elixir of mana on hand, which belongs to more luxury goods, or healing magic is used on them, death can be prevented. Akally is the only member capable of healing, and expensive potions are beyond the financial capabilities of a D-rank hunter. No monster, no trap, but a common lack of mana.

[Last survivor congratulates you on understanding your mistake.]

"I'm sorry, Dea, I couldn't escape," he touches her leg one last time, "take mine."

[Last survivor requests clarification.]

Akally smiles: "Mine for hers."

[Last survivor requests clarification.]

"My life for hers." [Rise]