The battles never seem to cease - goblins after hornets after morbols. Clive's arms burn from wielding his sword, and the rest of the party isn't faring much better.

As soon as he fells this last beast, he hurries over to your side, placing a hand on your back. You don't look too tired, but that's probably because Clive won't let you hold up a sword for more than a minute.

"You alright?"