Level Up The Colony -
Chapter 78: Brush with death
Chapter 78: Brush with death
All eyes were fixed on the spot where Timothy had fallen.
Everyone held their breath, clinging to a flicker of hope, whether by mistake, chance, or sheer luck that he might still be alive.
Up above, Helen remained embedded in the wall her only lifeline.
Moving even an inch could be fatal unless she regained enough strength to activate her Flaming Mode and either descend or launch another attack.
Miebaka whipped around to face Prisca, his voice sharp with urgency.
"Instead of asking if he’s dead, try healing him! Damn it, I’ll hold the spider off if it gets close."
Nonso, seated amidst the rubble, was about to rise and help, but Miebaka shot him a cold, commanding glare.
"You sit still," he said flatly.
Sword in hand, Miebaka glanced toward where the spider had been, but it was no longer in sight.
He scanned the area carefully.
Nothing.
Which meant only one thing, it had moved to the opposite side of the massive tree.
He called Helen’s name, drawing her attention.
When she looked his way, he made a hand signal: two fingers to his eyes, then pointing in the spider’s likely direction.
She understood and drew in a steadying breath before raising her head slightly to peek at the far side of the tree, her elevated vantage point gave her a view Miebaka couldn’t get from the ground.
Helen slowly nodded and tried to communicate what she saw.
Miebaka motioned again, asking her for details.
But instead of a clear sign, she shrugged.
To her eyes, the once-terrifying spider was now trembling on a ledge of bark, convulsing violently as though struggling against something.
It kept jerking its head like it was fighting an internal battle.
Most of its webs had been destroyed, burned away by her flames, or damaged by Timothy’s desperate maneuvers.
Its perch was now limited.
It was weak... distracted... and maybe, just maybe, vulnerable.
Helen looked down toward where Timothy had fallen.
The distance was dizzying, and the impact must have been brutal.
She wouldn’t wish that kind of fall on anyone.
With effort, she reignited her Flaming Mode and descended slowly, flames flickering weakly as her energy waned.
She landed beside Timothy’s crash site, where nature had formed a small garden around him, and vines had wrapped around his body, glowing faintly green.
When Miebaka caught sight of Timothy, his expression twisted with shock.
Helen’s face paled as well.
The sight was worse than expected.
Now he was the one tempted to ask, Is he alive? But he held the words back.
Maybe it was a mistake recruiting him, Miebaka thought bitterly.
Maybe she was wrong about him.
With a voice tinged with reluctant hope, he asked,
"Any progress?"
Prisca glanced at him, her expression grim.
"I’m not a doctor. But with how misaligned his bones are... he’s alive, yes, but he’s not responding to the healing. I can’t fix this much damage...He’s going to die."
What they didn’t know was that Timothy was still conscious, he just couldn’t move, speak, or open his eyes.
His left foot was twisted at an unnatural angle, now as limp and flexible as a rope.
His left arm matched.
He had managed to twist mid-fall, lessening the impact, but it hadn’t spared him.
His right leg was barely holding together, saved only by the scarf wrapped around it, though by now, it was likely just a sack of shattered bones and torn muscle.
The only parts still intact were his neck and right arm.
His internal organs were a wreck.
Pain was only the beginning.
Worst of all, his system still showed 3000 HP remaining and dropping by 100 each second.
As long as the number was above zero, his heart kept beating.
But that made it worse.
His heart continued to pump blood into ruptured veins and mangled tissue, and that agony was unlike anything he’d ever known.
He could see it all, his HP bar, his status despite his closed eyes.
Back on the outside, Miebaka made a hard decision.
"Then let’s not waste mana on the inevitable. That beast is still alive. If anyone needs healing, it’s her while she’s still breathing."
He nodded toward Helen.
Then he turned to Nonso.
"I’ll bring him closer so you can heal him too. Stay alert."
He moved to carry the unconscious assassin toward the garden.
Soon, all of them were gathered within the healing zone.
Though slow and only C-rank, Prisca’s spell was working.
She was determined to heal everyone, Timothy included.
Miebaka noticed and spoke again, gently but firmly:
"We need you to restore us as close to full strength as possible, but not by draining yourself to zero."
He took up position beside them, sword in hand, standing guard as the others recovered.
Prisca understood the hidden message, she was being told to stop healing Timothy.
But she shook her head and responded firmly,
"If I can still heal him, then I have to try. It’s better to try and fail than to never try and never know. I’m too young to carry the weight of that kind of guilt."
That was all Timothy needed to hear.
He had been listening all along.
The conversation echoed memories from the first time he died, except this time, someone hadn’t given up on him.
His HP continued to fall -100 every second, but at the same time, he saw +10 HP ticks from her healing attempts.
It wasn’t enough, but it was something.
That extra second
He had so many questions.
Glancing through his system stats again, his heart, though not physically beating raced when he saw Gray’s name.
He expected it to be blurred out or gone entirely.
But it wasn’t.
It was still there.
Worse, still evolving.
More questions piled on.
’So Gray’s still alive?’ Timothy thought
Timothy finally faced the truth: he had been too careless with his life.
Why? Because deep down, he felt he had nothing worth living for.
Money? Fame? Lies.
Those things brought as many problems as they solved.
And now, it was becoming painfully clear that this wasn’t just a monster hunt, Life, Society.
Blood would be spilled.
Not just monster blood, human blood.
Was he okay with that?
Yes.
But he was reluctant.
Not because he was weak.
Because he wasn’t a murderer.
He wanted to be morally or socially free of guilt.
His thoughts reeked of hypocrisy.
He once had a family.
Now, only broken pieces remained.
He’d drifted through life like a leaf in the wind, chasing thrills, ignoring the storm brewing around him.
He didn’t understand the threat he was up against.
The system.
The monsters.
The hunters.
The gates.
The dungeons.
The world shards.
How stupid could he have been? He lacked conviction not because he wasn’t strong, but because he didn’t want to be labeled a fanatic.
He had only been surviving.
And where had that gotten him?
Why did he even care what others say?
Back on death’s doorstep.
Then he heard it, a whisper in his consciousness.
"Humans act as they do because they believe they’re at the top of the food chain. But you’re not the only species on this planet. You think versatility makes you the strongest? Evolution doesn’t stop at humans. All species adapt. And when the roles run out, what happens then? Tables turn, Gates didn’t spawn to gift you power. You only perceived it that way."
A warning blared in his mind.
Then what do I do? Timothy thought.
As if in sync, another voice whispered in his mind
"Your goal is me."
The voice of the Human King.
A memory. ?
A prophecy. ?
A curse.?
It had been with him since
The pain in Timothy’s body grew unbearable.
His thoughts blurred into static.
But amidst the chaos, one word anchored him:
"Be strong."
Every species chased power.
Not just physical strength, but the ability to control fate.
He had to wake up.
He had to survive.
He dove into his system, searching desperately for anything, skills, stats, colony, inventory.
Nothing useful.
Maybe he should just pray for some kind of heavenly intervention?
But then... a word triggered a memory.
Prayer.
The Bride’s Prayer.
The ring.
His bound artifact.
He checked the counter, fully charged.
He nearly used it on his HP... but paused.
The last time he used something similar recklessly, he was left with an unstable trait.
So in the final seconds, Timothy made a gamble.
He used the Miasma Energy not to heal a wound, but to restore his entire body to peak condition.
Dark energy surged from the ring, engulfing his body like a living shadow.
It snapped the healing vines trying to connect to him, cutting off access.
Everyone watched in stunned silence.
Miebaka was the last to react, but when he did, his eyes narrowed with cold caution.
He spoke aloud, voice heavy with shame.
"If nothing good comes out of this battle, you’re all free to leave. I won’t blame you. We came as mercenaries, not martyrs."
Timothy heard those words from within the swirling darkness.
A strange calm washed over him.
Now, he saw them clearly, his teammates.
Miebaka: Calculated and cold.
Prisca: Bold, faithful but still a child, innocent despite everything.
Helen: Hot-headed, yes, but her bravado was a mask.
She charged into battle not because she was fearless but because fear ruled her, and she refused to show it.
Nonso: The quietest of them.
Normal.
Misunderstood.
A mirror warped by others’ perception.
He realized something else, Prisca had to be around 17, maybe 18.
A kid.
And yet, despite all that, they had synergy.
They worked.
He worried at first that the miasma wouldn’t be enough.
But as the counter drained and his HP returned to full, those fears faded.
The darkness receded.
Timothy opened his eyes.
He breathed slowly, testing his body, bracing for pain... but there was none.
He was whole.
He sat up, glanced at everyone, then turned to Prisca with a faint smile.
"Looks like you won’t have to carry the burden of guilt after all."
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