Nova's eyes snapped open. Thankfully, the labyrinth wasn't filled with too much light, so his eyes didn't feel the sharp sting of light pouring into him and searing his unadjusted eyes slightly.
His body still felt like it had been hammered by a freight train, ribs aching, his head pounding, every muscle screaming for the bed. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, seeing the labyrinth's faint blue hues giving the place a sense of coolness.
Slowly, he pushed himself up, getting on one elbow. His vision cleared, and there, standing a few feet away amid the scattered bodies of the Irish team, was James Mahe. The guild president looked bored, almost annoyed, as he wiped a streak of blood from his knuckles onto his pants.
Their eyes locked, Nova's filled with a mix of confusion and question, realizing all the dead bodies that were scattered on the ground. James's stare was cold and indifferent, like he was just going to ignore a "minor" inconvenience.
