According to plan, Dylan had taken advantage of their moment of confusion to isolate and eliminate them one by one. Meanwhile, Élisa had busied herself hiding the bodies and retrieving the anima gems.
Their teamwork was fascinating: Dylan delivered the killing blows, while she—without even letting the corpses hit the ground—propped them up with her body, indifferent to the blood splattering her. She worked flawlessly, assisting Dylan without fail.
Even Dylan himself was impressed by her efficiency. His gaze drifted toward her as the three of them gathered beneath a lone tree, counting their spoils under the cover of night.
Élisa sat cross-legged, wiping the monster blood off the gems with a torn scrap of fabric—what had once been part of Maggie's undergarments, now repurposed as a rag.
"This elf…" Dylan thought, his gray eyes lingering on the young woman's shaved head. "Earlier, she mentioned she hadn't left the forest in thirty years. Just how old is she, really?"
He didn't dare ask, of course. She might take it the wrong way, and besides, it wasn't gentlemanly to inquire about a woman's age.
Yet his stare must have been heavy, because she noticed—how could she not?
"I suppose you're just now realizing how beautiful I am, Dylan?" she said, her voice light and teasing, though her eyes remained fixed on her task. "It's rude to stare at a woman for so long. Do I have something on my face?"
Dylan raised an eyebrow, caught off guard, but quickly recovered.
"True, you must have been quite stunning in your heyday," he shot back, feigning amusement. "Can't wait for your hair to grow back so you can reclaim your former glory."
He half-expected her to bristle at the jab, but Élisa only let out a soft, muffled laugh—careful not to make too much noise. Her easy acceptance reassured him.
"Here," she said, handing him five anima gems. "Today's haul. You should be able to absorb them easily now that you're getting the hang of it."
The gems shimmered in his palm, each radiating a different hue. Beautiful, in their own way. He took three and offered the remaining two to Maggie, who sat slumped against the tree trunk, deliberately distancing herself from their conversation.
"You should take them all, Lieutenant," she said flatly, not even glancing at his outstretched hand. "You'll be our frontline fighter for a while yet."
"I know, Commander," Dylan replied. "But wouldn't it also help if you recovered faster? Lighten my load a bit?"
Maggie finally snatched the gems with a grunt. "Just this once," she muttered, avoiding his gaze. "If I die, none of it'll matter anyway."
The stones pulsed faintly in her grip, as if breathing. Dylan suppressed a smirk. He knew her tells—the way her lips pressed thin whenever she conceded.
"Use them before dawn," Élisa murmured, nodding toward the darkening sky. "The spiritual essence is stronger at night. The forest's energy peaks in these late hours."
Without a word, Maggie stalked off into the bushes, twigs crunching under her boots. Dylan watched her go.
"Classic Commander," he sighed. "Hates feeling useless."
"Yeah, seems like it," Élisa agreed, curling in on herself as she sat. "Anyway, hurry up and absorb those. You've got night watch."
Nodding, Dylan leaned back against the tree, seeking a comfortable spot on the ground to meditate with minimal distractions.
Meanwhile, Maggie crouched behind a boulder, the gems clenched tightly in her fist. A faint blue glow seeped between her fingers. Her eyes shut, brows furrowed in concentration.
Dylan glanced at her, then turned to Élisa. "How long d'you think she'll take?" he whispered.
"Less than you did your first time," the elf replied with a sly smile, fiddling with the torn cloth to make a cleaner bandage. "You nearly killed yourself, remember?"
"I lost my cool," Dylan admitted, embarrassed more by his own recklessness than the failure itself.
His gaze lingered on Maggie. Sweat drenched her short black hair, her skin streaked with grime and blood. The bandages wrapped around her torso and arms were already stained red—she looked half-mummified.
Yet Dylan watched intently as she absorbed the gems one by one, the crystals dissolving into shimmering dust that slipped through her fingers. Her eyes never opened; she seemed wholly focused on purifying the spiritual energy within her.
Her sweat turned murky, her teeth gritted against what looked like pain.
Dylan tensed, ready to stand, but Élisa's hand pressed down on his shoulder, urging him to stay put.
He shot her a sharp look. "Can't you see she's in agony?"
"If she's in pain, it's working," Élisa said softly. "Better than I expected, actually. Her body's adapting to the spiritual essence faster than I predicted. At this rate, her wounds will close within three days—even sooner if we had more anima gems."
Dylan swallowed hard, his eyes darting back to Maggie. Her breathing had steadied; she must have been nearing the end of her meditation.
The realization hit him: he was lagging behind. They'd absorbed nearly the same number of gems, meaning he should now match the raw strength she'd displayed in her frenzied battle against the demonic hyenas.
But he wasn't about to throw himself into a reckless frontal assault like she had—just to prove a point.
Tomorrow was another day. Nothing guaranteed his methods would keep working, but he'd adapt, just as he always had.
Clutching his own gems, he closed his eyes and let his mind sink gently into the first one.