They rushed Rhys into the infirmary and placed him on a soft healing bed. Warm light washed over him as the healers worked, slowly fixing the bruises, burns, and all the other "almost died" problems he had collected.
Rhys finally let out a long breath.
"…Okay. Maybe I won't die today."
One healer checked a clipboard.
"Good news. Your next match isn't in three hours."
Rhys blinked.
"…It's not?"
The healer shook his head.
"You're in the seventh bracket of the top twenty. Your match is the seventh one. That means you have plenty of time to rest. Maybe even two hours more than you thought."
Rhys's eyes widened.
"So… I get extra rest?"
Another healer nodded.
"Yes. At least five to six hours before you need to fight."
Rhys almost cried.
Puddle floated above him, arms wide.
"MASTER HAS BONUS SLEEP TIME!! THE GODS HAVE MERCY!!"
Rhys collapsed deeper into the pillow.
"I take back everything I said. I'm definitely not dying today."
Sophia sighed in relief.
