"Master!"
Hattie’s cry pierced the air as one of her tentacles slithered over Charles’ body, frantically searching. Within seconds, it retrieved his Witherbloom Prir and channeled magic into the to, unleashing Cure Wounds after Cure Wounds without restraint.
Yet poison was a status—one that would continue draining his life until either dissolved or death claid him.
In truth, at this very mont, his internal organs, including his heart, kidneys, and lungs, already showed clear signs of failure from Sephera’s lethal toxin. And this damage was permanent!
"Master’s orders—to Andny’s room!" Ruth said. Her petite fra erupted with monstrous strength as she hoisted Charles and Sephera, one in each hand, slinging them over her shoulders like they were re feathers. With a light push off the ground, her body shot forward like a loosed arrow, racing toward Andny’s room.
Hattie hastily retracted her tentacles and followed. The monastery wasn’t large, and within seconds, Ruth kicked open Andny’s door, revealing its current state.
Before, this room had always been dark, damp, and filthy, every crevice in the walls crawling with worms of all kinds.
Even those without trypophobia would feel their scalp prickle upon entering, and anyone with even slight mysophobia would retch violently!
But now, all of it had been purged by purifying white light. The room was spotless—an utterly sterile environnt.
At each of the room’s four corners and the center of the ceiling stood a high-power lamp, ensuring not a single shadow remained.
The center of the room held an operating table—evidently, only one patient could be treated at a ti. Beside it stood a small tray bearing tweezers, scalpels, hemostats, surgical scissors, and other dical tools. The lower shelf was stocked with iodine, alcohol, cotton balls, and gauze for imdiate use.
Against the far wall lood a massive cabinet filled with rarely used dical supplies, ready to et a doctor’s every need.
Ruth tossed the unconscious Sephera onto the floor, then carefully laid Charles onto the operating table. She turned, scanning the unfamiliar dical equipnt, her face twisted with panic. "How do these work? How do we treat Master?"
Hattie stared, equally helpless. She knew no dicine—these constructions of Charles’ had always been under his control alone. She could only watch.
But with Charles unconscious... how could they make him regain consciousness...
"I’ve got an idea!" she suddenly declared. Grabbing the spellbook, she strode to Sephera’s side, pressed a hand against her head, and cast Cure Wounds!
Within the healing white light, Sephera’s dazed eyes fluttered open. But before she could even register where she was, Hattie’s sharp demand struck her like a whip:
"Sephera, how do we cure your poison?"
Sephera jolted awake. Now fully purified, her mind and body belonged entirely to Charles. The mont she realized what she had done, her face paled in horror.
"Master—!"
With a desperate cry, ignoring the dirt clinging to her, she scrambled to her feet and staggered toward the operating table. Her heartache was palpable as she gazed at Charles, speechless.
"Stay calm, Sephera!" Hattie hissed. "Master isn’t dead yet, but he’s poisoned and unconscious!"
"This construction can help dissolve the toxins—but the problem is, how do we wake Master up?"
"Sephera, do you have a way?"
Sephera froze, then shook her head in agony. Hattie was grasping at straws—what use was asking Sephera, an evil witch who reveled in tornting humans with toxins, about antidotes and healing?
Yet... if it ca down to it, if saving soone from her lethal poison no matter the cost was the only option... she did have one thod.
"This is all my fault," she suddenly declared, her voice resolute, her eyes filled with self-sacrificial determination. "Therefore, I must give everything of myself to make this right!"
By the operating table, Ruth suddenly looked up, shocked. "Sephera, you’re going to-"
"Yes!" Sephera nodded firmly. "I intend to offer part of my ’Essence’ to Master!"
"Master would never allow this!" Ruth imdiately objected, her head snapping up. "I made this sa suggestion before, but Master refused! He couldn’t bear to see your foundation damaged!"
"Sephera, think carefully - isn’t there another way to detoxify?"
Sephera shook her head with a bitter smile. "Perhaps... but do we have that kind of ti?"
Ruth fell silent. Turning, Sephera looked at Hattie, whose expression had also turned solemn. "When I make my offering," Sephera instructed, "you must continuously heal Master with Cure Wounds. This might buy him a mont of consciousness."
Hattie nodded gravely. "Understood!"
At this point, she too realized that without sacrifice, they might never reclaim what they believed in - their Master!
Sephera gave a small nod, then without further delay turned back to gaze lovingly at Charles lying on the operating table. Taking a deep breath, her slender hands ford a complex series of seals before she suddenly bent down, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his.
Tiny erald-green motes of light drifted from between her lips into Charles’ body.
This was a witch’s "Essence" - the primordial substance they obtained from the material world’s primordial energies at birth. The total amount was always minuscule, and once damaged, might not recover for many years!
To witches, "Essence" was as vital as marrow to humans - their most fundantal energy, the foundation of all their abilities.
Yet now, Sephera didn’t hesitate to offer up her most precious possession!
Torrential energies flooded through Charles’ body, repairing his internal organs ravaged by the deadly poison. But more importantly, they rged with his soul, nding the wounds left by transmigration that still hadn’t fully healed.
Behind her, Hattie hurriedly opened the spellbook, channeling magic power as she spamd Cure Wounds on Charles without restraint.
Thus, healing light combined with primordial substance to restore both body and soul. Under this extravagant treatnt, at last his paralyzed brain gradually regained sensation, his consciousness restored to montary clarity.
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