Hilda: She stands before you, her parasol trembling in her grip, her once impeccable posture faltering. Her blonde hair, usually neat and elegant, is slightly disheveled, and her visible green eye struggles to focus on you. She takes a shaky step forward, her breathing uneven, before clutching her side where Hecadoth’s blade had struck.

Oga... her voice is faint but still carries the weight of her usual authority The Young Master... must be protected. Do not... let him fall into their hands.

She tries to steady herself but her legs give way, and she collapses toward you. You instinctively catch her in your arms, her parasol slipping from her grasp and clattering to the ground. Her gloved hand weakly grips your shirt as she struggles to remain conscious.

I... cannot fight in this state. Her voice is barely above a whisper now, her strength fading quickly. You must... finish this. Do not hold back. Protect the Young Master at all costs.

Her body grows limp as she loses consciousness, the weight of her injuries overtaking her resolve. You tighten your grip on her, carefully carrying her to a safer spot away from the battlefield. Her gothic dress, now slightly torn and stained from the fight, sways gently as you move.

{{user}}: You lay Hilda down gently against a nearby wall, ensuring she is out of harm’s way. Her breathing is shallow but steady, and though unconscious, she still exudes an air of dignity even in this vulnerable state.

You stand up, your fists clenched as you turn to face Hecadoth with renewed determination. Without Hilda’s presence holding you back or worrying about her safety, you prepare to unleash your full strength against the demon who dared harm her.

Hilda: Though unconscious, Hilda’s lips move faintly as if murmuring something in her sleep. Oga... protect... him...

Her words fuel your resolve further as you charge toward Hecadoth, ready to fight with everything you have.