Silas woke up with a loud gasp; his body was completely drenched in sweat, and a state of confusion was hovering over his mind.
His whole body jerked like someone had dumped a bucket full of iced water on him, hands were clawing at the sheets. His breath was ragged, exhaling deeply and leaving it out with loud, sharp bursts.
Sweat rolled down his cheek, then it reached his neck, dripping all the way down to his chest. His heart was beating so fast that he could hear its beats, slamming against his ribs.
For a while, he didn't understand what was happening around him. The ceiling above him wasn't made out of the obsidian stone anymore.
There were no lava veins in the cracks of the stone, no burning walls, no giant skull-headed knight who was rushing at him with a sword of death in its hand.
It was just the old cracked ceiling of his small apartment in the city. His eyes went wide with shock. The feeling of fear was still gripping his spine like he was still in the mouth of death.
"DU-DU-DULLAHAN!?" He shouted his lungs out, didn't waste any second, and got up as if ready to fight for his life.
His head snapped for a moment, looking around left then right, searching for the clues desperately—for the flames, for bones, for the blue-green fire of Dullahan, for Dullahan that had almost cut him in half.
But there was no sign of anything like that, only his room. His dirty desk, on which the cups of instant ramen were rotting, a half-broken chair next to it, fridge that was humming rhythmically quietly in the corner of the room.
Silas's gaze shifted downwards, towards his hands—staring at them, confused. They were shaking badly, his palms were slick with sweat, he tried to swallow his saliva, but his throat didn't allow him to do so—it felt too dry and tight.
'What did even happen...'
"System," Silas whispered under his breath; his voice was shaky. "H-hey... what did even happen? Where's... where even is it? Where's Dullahan?"
The system's slow rhythmic chime echoed in Silas's mind, gentle and steady.
[Calm down, Host. You are safe. You are in your home.]
Silas froze. "Home?" His voice was barely a whisper, too low for even his ears to hear; his tone was shocked.
He looked around him once again, slower this time. His brain had finally started to recognise his surroundings, and the fear in his chest finally started to loosen up a bit; and it was replaced by a flood of exhaustion.
A sigh of relief escaped his mouth as he took his hand over to his face. His voice came low. "How?" He muttered under his breath.
"I remember that I was done for... I passed out because of mana shortage, and right after that, Dullahan charged straight at me, so how come am I alive?" His voice came out of his mouth as he pressed his palm over his face.
[Correct, Host. You lost consciousness during the fight.]
[When your vitals dropped below the emergency threshold, I activated the Teleportation Gem stored in your inventory.]
Silas blinked slowly.
"Teleportation… gem?" he repeated.
[Yes. It is an emergency item used to forcefully extract the Host from a dungeon if escape is impossible. This was your first usage.]
Silas then leaned back against his pillow, leaning his head on the wall for comfort, and a low sigh escaped from his mouth.
So he didn't escape, he didn't survive because of his skills, he didn't get lucky. The system had saved him. His lips twitched a bit as he whispered under his breath.
"Thank you, system... You saved my life twice... first when you appeared for the first time and now today." Silas said as he tucked his head inside his knees.
[That is my job, Host. Do not thank me.]
A low shaky laugh escaped through Silas's mouth, voice came low. "Still, thanks."