Chaopter 170: Battle Of Tier 6

Then he leans back, resting against the tree's pulsing root as the potion burns through him.

The healing is slow. Painful. Not clean. It has to be that way—his body is stitched, broken, rebuilt a dozen times over. The potion knits together torn muscle, reinforces fractured bones, and tamps down the spreading corruption from his last battle.

A tremor runs through Gander's limbs as the potion finishes its grim work, leaving behind a throbbing ache deep in his joints. He doesn't move for a moment. Just breathes. The green orbs in his eye sockets dim, then flare again—steady now.

He mutters to himself, voice low and rough like dry bark scraping stone.

"I'm really lucky to be alive."