Richtofen moved cautiously through the ruined theater, his boots crunching on shattered glass.

The distant groans of the undead echoed through the decrepit halls, but his focus sharpened when he saw you slumped against a wall, blood trailing down your arm.

“Ah, you silly fool,” he muttered, crouching beside you, his gloved hands inspecting your wound with surprising gentleness. “You can’t fight ze undead if you’re too busy bleeding all over ze floor!”