Friends

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains of the inn, casting a warm glow across the room where David and his group gathered around a table. The inn was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos and danger they had faced together over the past months. They were safe here, or as safe as anyone could be on this island. The comforting scent of freshly brewed tea filled the room, offering a small moment of peace.

Marcus entered the room, his expression serious. Everyone quieted, sensing the weight of the news he was about to deliver.

"David," Marcus began, his voice low and steady, "I've spoken with the healers at the Green Temple. They did everything they could, but Sarah's condition is more severe than we thought. Her body is healed, but her soul… it's damaged. To wake her up, they need something rare. Holy Dew."

The words hit David like a physical blow. His hand, clenched around the delicate teacup, trembled before it shattered in his grip. The sharp crack of the glass breaking echoed through the room. Shards fell onto the table, and a drop of blood welled up from a small cut on his hand, but David didn't seem to notice. His mind was somewhere else, lost in the despair of knowing that Sarah's life hung by a thread.

The inn's owner, a towering figure with green skin and muscles that seemed carved from stone, moved swiftly. Without a word, he raised his hand, and a wave of pressure filled the room. It was as if an invisible force wrapped around David, squeezing the air from his lungs and freezing him in place. For a moment, he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, as if a knife had been plunged into his chest.

"Calm yourself, boy," the innkeeper rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. "Breaking things won't bring her back."

David's anger and despair melted under the innkeeper's power, replaced by a cold, helpless fear. He struggled against the invisible bonds, but they held firm, unyielding.

"Let him go, old friend," Marcus said, stepping forward with a slight smile. "We don't need two holy dews, just one."

The innkeeper chuckled, releasing his hold on David, who staggered back, gasping for breath. "I suppose you're right, Marcus. But if he breaks anything else, it'll be coming out of your tab."

The tension in the room broke, the mood lightening as the innkeeper's joke brought a weak smile to David's face. He wiped the blood from his hand, still shaken but regaining his composure.

"What is this Holy Dew?" David asked, his voice rough but steady.

"It's rare, incredibly so," Marcus explained, his tone more serious now. "It's not something you can just find. But this year, one of the rewards for the tournament is Holy Dew. If you want to save Sarah, you'll need to win it."

David's heart pounded in his chest. "Then where do I register?"

Marcus shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "With your current combat power, the best you might achieve is the top 50. But there's time yet. We'll discuss your options later. For now, we need to focus on more immediate things."

He turned to the others. "Mike, Emily, Alex, where do you plan to go from here? The island is vast, and the temples are always looking for new talent."

Emily and Alex exchanged a glance. Emily was the first to speak. "We've talked about it. The crafting temples seem to be where we'd be most useful. Maybe the Blue Temple? They're renowned for their artisans and craftsmen."

Marcus nodded thoughtfully. "Good choice. The Blue Temple has some of the best resources for crafting, and they're always looking for skilled hands."

Mike shifted, his gaze steady as he looked at Marcus. "I'm thinking about the Yellow Temple. They're known for their hunters and earth magicians. It seems like the right fit for me."

Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, Mike. The Yellow Temple will shape you into something formidable."

The group fell into a thoughtful silence, each person lost in their own memories of the last two and a half months. They had fought together, bled together, and survived together. They were more than just a group of strangers now—they were a family.

Breaking the silence, Emily suddenly said, "Let's meet here after a year. In this inn. No matter where we go, what we do, let's make it a tradition to come back here."

There was a pause, and then everyone agreed, their voices overlapping as they laughed and nodded. Even Marcus, who usually remained reserved, joined in their laughter, the sound of it warm and genuine.

The innkeeper, who had been listening quietly from the side, grinned. "A year from now, I expect to see you all back here, alive and in one piece. And maybe, just maybe, I'll have a special brew waiting for you."

As the group settled down after the intense conversation, the innkeeper leaned in with a grin. "You know," he began, his deep voice rumbling through the room, "there's an old joke about the Black Temple and the White Temple. It goes like this: A Black Temple necromancer and a White Temple healer walk into a tavern. The healer orders a glass of holy water, and the necromancer orders a cup of grave dirt tea."

He paused, watching as the group exchanged curious glances. Even Marcus looked interested.

The innkeeper continued, his grin widening. "The bartender hands them their drinks, and the necromancer says, 'You know, if we combined our powers, we could rule this island.' The healer sips his holy water, looks at the necromancer, and says, 'If we combined our powers, you'd just keep raising the dead, and I'd keep sending them back. We'd be stuck in an endless loop!'"

He chuckled deeply, adding, "And then the necromancer leans in and says, 'Well, at least we'd keep the tavern in business!'"

There was a moment of silence as the group processed the punchline, and then they burst into laughter. Even David, still burdened by his worries, couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all.

Marcus shook his head, chuckling. "I suppose even the most serious temples have their own sense of humor."

The innkeeper nodded, still grinning. "That's the thing about this island. No matter how dark things get, there's always something to laugh about. And trust me, if you can laugh in the face of danger, you've already won half the battle."

The mood in the room lightened, the tension easing as the group shared in the humor. For a moment, the weight of their struggles lifted, and they allowed themselves to enjoy the simple pleasure of a good laugh.

David looked around at the smiling faces of his friends, and for the first time since Sarah fell into her coma, he felt a flicker of hope. The road ahead would be difficult, but they would face it together. And no matter what happened, they had a place to return to—a place that felt like home.

With that promise hanging in the air, the group laughed together, the warmth of their camaraderie pushing away the shadows that had haunted them. The dangers of the island were still out there, waiting for them, but for now, in this moment, they were safe and they were together. And that was enough.