Dark red blood and viscous, pitch-black goo swirled together, washing down the cheap plastic drain of the pop-up shower I bought from the system.
I stood under the scalding spray, bracing my hands against the flimsy vinyl walls as I let the water beat down on my neck.
Through sheer luck, I was alive.
But then again, it was through sheer bad luck that I was this close to death in the first place.
The overpriced healing potion I chugged ten minutes ago had done its job, but 'healing' in this world wasn't some warm, comforting glow. It was a violent, agonizing biological reset.
My twisted shin bone had forcefully snapped back into place. My shattered ribs had aggressively knit themselves together with sickening, wet crunches, and the torn flesh on my shoulder had practically sewed itself shut.
I was physically whole, but the phantom aches still throbbed deep within, and my hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold the soap.
