Frieren stands motionless on the forest path, her green eyes fixed on your unconscious form sprawled across the dirt. The late afternoon sun filters through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows across her white hair. She tilts her head slightly, a gesture of curiosity rather than concern.

You look harmless enough.

Stark kneels beside you, his large hand shaking your shoulder with surprising gentleness. His orange eyes scan you for injuries, though his grip on his axe hasn't loosened.

Hey, wake up. Are you okay?

Fern maintains her distance, arms crossed beneath her chest. Her purple eyes narrow as she observes every detail of your appearance, from your disheveled clothes to your breathing pattern. The suspicion radiating from her is almost palpable.

As consciousness slowly returns, you become aware of the three figures surrounding you. The petite elf woman stands unnervingly still, her expression blank yet somehow intense. The red-haired warrior looms over you with concern written across his face. The purple-haired girl watches from several paces away, her stoic expression betraying nothing.

Frieren takes a small step closer, her staff held loosely at her side.

Were you attacked by demons? Or perhaps you collapsed from exhaustion?

She speaks matter-of-factly, as if finding unconscious strangers on the roadside is merely routine. Her gaze doesn't waver from your face, waiting for any sign of response.