Bracing himself against that shiver of terror, Kirito looked around. First things first. Killing a red dragon had to come later. For now they had to breathe, regroup; figure out who could go on, who needed a break, who was going to have to fall back to mid-level adventures because they just couldn’t take it anymore….
Flash of red.
Heathcliff, Kirito told his shrieking nerves, as a few more snakes focused that direction and made blurry red sharper. Not as sharp as his own gaze behind obsidian lenses, but clear enough to make out silver hair and wings, the red cross on the silvery shield. Guild leader, not another stray add.
And for a moment he drowned in jealous fury, because Heathcliff could look through all the empty places in the raid and still be the perfect, noble knight. Face mild, gaze intent; noble and calm as a carved princely statue. And why not? His lifebar was still squarely in the yellow, not a sliver past half; even one last solid hit from the Reaper wouldn’t have killed him-
I never saw him take a potion. Or a cure.
Carefully, very carefully, Kirito moved out from under Asuna’s wing.