Using their knowledge of the tomb, one gained after they had gotten a map out and found, with a lot of guessing, where the golem nest was, they made it to Samkiel's burial chambers.

They didn't take the corridors, rather, they looked around for the secret passage that was behind a mosaic. None of the adventurers had thought that the Klorifel family had spoken the truth when they had given the secret passage up.

The dukes of Huergaz were a bitter family. Even more so after Asmodeos had been the one to rise Samkiel himself as a Lich on his way to the Heart of the World glacier.

But, it seems, the current duke of Huergaz did not want needless death, and, so, he had given up the secret passage. What he had not given up was the sequence in which the colored tiles had to be ordered in for the passage to open. So, all the tanks and Morris had taken turns bashing the mosaic until the tunnel behind it got uncovered.

They simply hadn't had time for anything else. And, their call had been the right one because, the burial chamber stank of infection and sickness.

Alektos, Nestor, Damien and Percival were the first to enter. With Dorian and Morris being left with Leander, as they were the most inexperienced, and they couldn't rule out the possibility that the dungeon core had gotten Jean on its side.

When no arrows came from the entrance of the tomb, the four tanks stepped aside to let the Try Hard Party in. Followed by Aros and Sorecal, with Alberta choosing to stay with Florifel and Lilia, in case Borik got violent again.

Jean was propped up next to Samkiel's sarcophagus, eyes half-closed and skin drenched in sweat. 

"Jean?" Leander called, uncertain. Jean didn't respond, and Leander rushed to his side, suddenly grateful that he had taken the time to study infections.

Leander took out his bottle of fusidic acid cream and looked for wounds. Once Jean became more responsive, he would give him something for the fever. Failing that, he would inject Jean with a dose of paracetamol.

The healer began turning Jean's arm this way and that, looking for the wound. There was nothing on the left arm and, after a quick check, it turned out that there was nothing on the right arm, either.

Then, Leander got ashen. The clothes up front looked whole, so, the only option left was to check the back.

With slow movements, Leander leaned Jean to the front and sucked in a breath. There was a big slash on the archer's back. Bone was not showing, but the wound was infected. With puss coming out of it.

"For how long had he been like that?" Alektos murmured. Leander took one look at the bottle he was holding and placed it back in his bag. This wound needed mana and stitching. Desperately.

"This looks like an axe wound. So, it must have come from Andors," Aros mused. Leander washed his hands with his water skin and some soap and took out cotton and cleaning alcohol. He poured some of the stuff over the cotton and began to clear away the puss. It took him an entire package of the stuff before the wound began to look cleaner.

Then, he took his water skin again, washed his hands with soap and water, dried them, and then took out thread and a needle.

"This is going to sting, Jean. But you have to be strong," Jean groaned, still out of it, and Leander began to stitch, using his mana as an anesthesia to numb the pain. There was no sense into making this harder on Jean than it already was.

As Leander worked, the pain began to ground Jean slowly. His mind was foggy and, for a dreadful moment that felt like an eternity, he feared that the dungeon core had taken control of him.

But, why would the dungeon core bother to stitch him up? It had not done the same for Borik and Andors. Thinking about his partners brought guilt to his heart.

He had been vicious and relentless in his attempts at destroying the core. Jean remembered breaking both of Borik's legs to try to keep him down with an arrow barrage. Andors was now missing an eye because of a dagger stab. Heck, Jean was not even sure that the blonde was still alive.

The archer knew that his wound, courtesy of an enraged Andors, had gotten infected. It had all started with a wetness on his back. Ignored at the start because of adrenaline.

But, once he hunkered down behind the barrier stone's protection, it had all changed.

He had begun to drift on and off. Worse, the dungeon core had tried to speak to him, in the beginning, and Jean had nearly listened.

However, his will was stronger than the dungeon core's manipulations. And, the burial chamber had mana resistant walls. Which meant that only barriers could be placed at the entrance.

"Jean, do you hear me? Can you take a pill?" Jean heard a soft voice call out to him. He tried to open his eyes, but failed. His hand twitched and he stubbornly attempted to move. He heard a sigh and then felt his sleeve being rolled up.

"Jean, you will make it through this to torment another rookie party. Don't you worry. On my honor as a healer, I promise you that you will survive," Jean snorted weakly. The only recent party he had tormented had been the Try Hard Party. To think, he owed his life to a bunch of bottom feeders. He felt the needle of the syringe go in, and his eyes finally opened.

What he saw was the chubby healer, Leander, gently easing the syringe's content into Jean's system. His determined face spoke volumes about his character. And, Jean kind of liked his hair. Like a lemon cake sprinkled with powdered sugar, it was. Which, considering this healer ate countless sweets, or, at least, that was what Jean imagined, was fitting.

"Nice hair, lemon cake," Jean managed to say weakly, and then he lost the battle with consciences again.

"Meh, I have heard worse," Leander said with a relieved chuckle. After all, if Jean could make fun of him, then, Jean can also get better.