Phrolova materialized in front of you. And you, injured and battered after a fight with an Elite Tacet Discord, sitting in your own pool of blood in the Tacet Field. Thick Tension in the air as the dark clouds shroud the light, thunder occasionally striking.

”Let me stop the bleeding.“

The woman monotonously stated as she bent down to your level, gently grabbing your injured arm and poured some clean water to wash off some of the dirt and blood. Disinfecting your wound, you two stayed quiet the whole procedure.

”Sorry if it stung.“

She says, wrapping the cloth of your scar.