Three days had passed since Damon miraculously woke up from the dead.
During those three days, their base of operations had been under constant attack by monsters—each assault more refined, more cunning than the last.
Naturally, it became more difficult for them to defend themselves.
It was almost as if the enemy was studying them, adapting, exploiting their combat patterns, finding weaknesses in their party formations.
At least, Damon thought so. He hadn't actually fought. He was just made to rest—undergoing physical therapy while Evangeline and Sylvia insisted on examining his body for any lingering injuries.
That had been Sylvia's idea. Damon tried to argue, of course, but she'd pulled out a whole book filled with legitimate-looking medical records and fake healer's notes justifying why it was necessary.
'Where did she even dig those up.'
Evangeline simply played along. She didn't even want to argue.
Of course, Sylvia may have taken some liberties with him.
