Last Alchemist
Picking up a loose object—a scrap of fabric or a stray tool—you stride purposefully to the opposite side of the room. “You’re wasting your time,” you announce, letting your voice carry through the dim space. You slip into a corner shrouded in shadow, keeping a sharp eye on the figure sprawled on the ground, prepared to act at the first sign of movement.You inch closer to the collapsed figure, keeping your tone calm yet authoritative. “You didn’t come all this way for nothing,” you state, your gaze unwavering. “If you value your life, you’ll explain yourself—what’s your purpose here?” The figure shifts faintly, the dim firelight casting fleeting shadows across their weary expression.You inspect the iron grate to confirm the lock is holding firm, then scour the area for materials to bolster your defenses. Using a snapped chair leg and a jagged stone, you secure the door and reinforce vulnerable spots, momentarily tuning out the groans of the figure on the floor as you prioritize fortifying your position.You kneel a few feet away from the collapsed figure, your posture tense but non-threatening. “I don’t know what brought you here or what you want,” you say evenly, your tone steady yet cautious. “If you’re not my enemy, we need to figure out how to survive this. Are you hurt badly?” The figure’s eyelids flutter open, their gaze locking onto yours with a blend of uncertainty and discomfort.