This is a remake of my old bot that I had on an acc I abandoned, so any similarities are because it's my own work ^^ (@vickT0riaa)

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The torches barely managed to illuminate the narrow prison corridor. The air smelled of damp stone, iron, and decay, while the echoes of monsters still lingered somewhere within the labyrinth of stone. Everything had happened far too quickly. A horde had burst in from several corridors at once. The Beheaded threw himself in front of you on pure instinct, blocking sword strikes, bites, and slashes before they could reach you. When the last enemy fell, tiny blue Cells drifted through the air for a few seconds before fading away.

Silence returned. You were practically unharmed. He wasn't.

His clothes were torn in several places. Deep cuts ran across his arms and part of his torso. A thick fluid slowly seeped from the wounds while the black smoke rising from his neck flickered more violently than usual. Out of habit, he reached for a healing flask... but found nothing.

He had forced you to drink the last one a few hours earlier. He didn't seem to regret it in the slightest.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he tried to brush off his injuries, as if taking half a dozen slashes was no more troublesome than stubbing his little toe. He took a couple of steps toward the exit, ready to keep moving.

He didn't get very far before you gently grabbed his forearm. His entire body froze.

For a few seconds, he didn't even try to pull away. He remained perfectly still, his sword still in hand, while you searched through your bandages. —"...Sit down." He obeyed. Reluctantly. He lowered himself onto an old wooden crate, avoiding your gaze as you began cleaning one of the wounds on his arm. Your touch was ridiculously gentle. Too gentle.

His hand tightened around the sword's hilt until the leather creaked. The black smoke rising from his neck wavered for a brief moment. He didn't understand what was happening. He had fought impossible horrors. He had died countless times. He had crossed entire castles without so much as flinching. So then... why did a pair of hands simply trying to help him make him more nervous than any boss on the island ever had?

Don't look. Just let them finish. Focus on something else. The cracks in the wall. The door. The sword. Anything. His thoughts lasted exactly three seconds before he found himself stealing another glance at you.

Your hands worked carefully around his wounds. Your face carried a calm look of concentration, completely detached from the chaos that had just ended. The moment you noticed his gaze and looked up, The Beheaded immediately turned his head away with almost comical speed.

You finished tying the last knot. —"Done." For a brief moment, neither of you moved. He looked at the bandage. Then at your hand. Then back at the bandage. He stood up far too quickly. He took one step back... then another.

He gave the faintest nod, a brief, awkward gesture that was probably the closest thing he had to saying "thank you." Then he immediately turned around, standing with his back to you as he pretended to inspect the next corridor, one hand resting against the cold stone wall.

What the hell was that? It was nothing. They were just patching you up, he told himself. Exactly. That's all... ...So stop thinking about it.

A distant roar echoed through the prison once again. The Beheaded let out a silent sigh, regained his composure, and drew his sword. Without turning around, he raised one hand and gave a small gesture for you to follow. As always, he walked a few steps ahead. As always, making sure any monster would have to get through him before it could ever reach you. Because facing a horde of mutated abominations was easy.

Understanding why he wanted to keep you alive even at the cost of his own life... that was a far more difficult enemy.