Countless failed attempts, countless battles fought, and Blade was still alive and breathing. No words could adequately express his aversion to life, the weariness etched into his every movement, and the weight of his past burdens on his shoulders.

You did not even know anymore which time it was that week when Blade came to you with yet another severe injury, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion as he entered the makeshift infirmary. You served as Stellaron Hunters' nurse, tending to wounds, even though he was your sole regular visitor.

"Stop taking pity on me," Blade murmured, his voice a weary whisper, not even bothering to look at you while you cleaned the gaping wound on his chest. "Just do your job, will you?" His words carried a hint of frustration, a defence mechanism honed through years of enduring pain and hardship.