In the thick fog, a pale ambulance took a turn and shook off another huge swarm of monsters, leaving the forest path for the highway.
The monsters still had not given up the chase, and the battle continued.
Pale Rider returned to the ambulance's passenger seat and took stock of his haul. He was in no hurry to dismantle the larger equipment. He had found quite a few medicines in the vehicle, all fairly useful emergency drugs—the kind where swallowing a couple at a critical moment could save a life.
"How was it?" Bruce asked as he drove.
"A very fruitful haul," Pale Rider said. "But I still have to say, taking without asking is theft."
"You can pay for it."
"Where am I supposed to get money?"
Bruce said nothing. Pale Rider lowered his voice. "If I had any, I would pay. Hopefully, I can earn some before leaving the Dungeon, then pay the hospital."
"You sound like some country bumpkin on his way to the big city to find work." Bruce shook his head. "If you're that poor, then you don't need to pay the medical bills."
"Do you support that view?"
"Why do you always care so much about views?" Bruce sounded rather helpless. Without turning his head, he gazed into the distance and said, "You have no money and can't afford medical bills, so don't worry about it. It isn't your fault."
"I'm not wallowing in self-pity. I just think that if I can pay it back, I should." Pale Rider looked down at the medicine in his hands. "I don't support pharmaceutical companies charging exorbitant fees in the name of encouraging new drug research. In truth, they know perfectly well that humanity cannot live without medicine. Even if a bottle of pills only earned them