Despite the pain tearing through his insides, Sam’s mind remained lucid enough that he knew he was falling. More importantly, Sam could tell he was dying.
The bits of dragon’s blood that splattered onto him from the wound he’d given his foe burned through his gear to damage the skin underneath. He was bleeding a lot, too. The dragon’s fangs had bitten deep into his sides, skewering him right in the midsection and making a mess of his guts. With such grievous wounds, even Regeneration couldn’t heal him fast enough.
The notifications popping up around him that he was too tired to read warned Sam of what he already knew—he was standing at death’s door. But if that was all, then he might have just let go then and there. Because to give one’s self for one’s friends was a noble end sought by many heroes. However, Sam couldn’t rest because his battle was far from over.