When Mr. Nameless approached Kevin again, his condition looked terrible. Three large holes had been torn in the front of his robe, and though the velvet lining inside prevented Kevin from seeing the wounds, the three breaches had turned blackish-red from the blood. Mr. Nameless's expression remained calm, the minor cuts on his face already scabbed over—such a strong coagulation response. He seemed to want to stand as straight as before, but his twisted stance made them both realize that his left leg had fractured. From the vague outline beneath the robe, Kevin could only imagine a leg bone twisted out of shape.
"Mr. Nameless, you need treatment."