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[hr][@Rune_Alchemist] 

If the trip down was bad-- the return trips were always worse.

Every time he died, no lingering injury would heal until Elias' soul returned from the underworld.

In other words-- Reinhardt would experience his death twice over; once when he would fall, and once upon his return.

The sensation that the knight would be met with upon his ejection from the underworld was an agony like nome he'd ever experienced. 

It was like being trapped in a void. Unable to move. Unable to see. Unable to scream.

And despite being trapped in such deprivation; he could feel everything. The crawling itch of tissues reforming fiber by fiber. The stinging of muscle and organ exposed to open air. The burn of lung; starving for even a single breath--

Before his eyelids could even finish reforming, the Knight had already rolled onto his hands and knees; retching from the waves of nausea and pain that accompanied such a horrific return.

Trembling, Reinhardt forced himself to stand; wiping his mouth with a soot-covered arm as he surveyed his surroundings.  There  wasn't a sign of his allies nor the Wyvern-- only a single sword planted in the earth beside him.

His eyes rose to scan the horizon-- settling on a distant plume of smoke. The Knight's face contorted into a firm scowl as his fingers wrapped the hilt of the single sword that remained in the scorched section of woodland.

It seemed there was still a dragon to slay.