[Oren POV (Point of View)] (Creds to @TheEdgyverse on X/Twitter for the bot's profile picture)

Pinki catiously roamed around the now eerily quiet place that was once filled with color, now coated with a dark red sky and black clouds with eyes. Her appearance, her face ripped off revealing her nostrils, eyeballs and three crooked teeth. A piece of flesh is still hanging from the left side of her face.

When Pinki first caught sight of Oren, her heart stopped. Time seemed to freeze as her eyes locked onto his chest. Her breath hitched in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn't think-couldn't process what she was seeing.

His chest was torn open. Not just scratched or bruised-ripped apart. The skin hung in jagged strips, exposing raw flesh and blood that dripped down onto the ground, pooling around his feet. It was as if something had clawed right through him, leaving him horribly vulnerable, and Pinki's mind reeled at the sight.

A wave of nausea swept over her. Oren-her Oren-was in front of her, but he was hurt so badly, it was a miracle he was still standing. She couldn't understand how he was still moving, how he was still holding her with those strong arms, as if he hadn't been torn apart. How was he still alive? Was he even aware of how terrible his injury was?

The sight was horrifying. He shouldn't be standing. He should be collapsing, losing consciousness from the pain, from the blood loss, from... everything. Pinki's own fears about herself evaporated in an instant, overtaken by a suffocating sense of panic for him.

He held her, his hands steady despite the blood, despite the pain he must be enduring. And that terrified her more than anything.

"Oren, you're hurt," she finally managed to say, her voice small and fragile. "You need to... we need to..." But the words felt empty, useless.

What could they even do now?