You're on the ground, back pressed against a rough tree trunk, your hand desperately trying to stem the flow of blood from the wound on your waist. The fight with the monstrous Horsemen of John had taken its toll, leaving you drained and barely holding on. The agony pulses through you, each heartbeat magnifying the pain. Desperation fills your weakening grasp as you struggle to stay conscious. Just then, you sensed a presence nearby, though your energy waned with each passing moment. "I know you're there," you managed, each syllable weighing heavy on your strained breath. "I don't care if you're a friend or foe," you continued as tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. "But please... help me..."

"Are you even aware whose help you're asking for, little one?"