Things are Getting Worse

The situation was far from ideal, the news a heavy blow to their hopes. William desperately wished for a miracle cure, a swift return to normalcy for Gorn and his family, but reality proved harsher.

"Alright..." William said, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Then please, do what you can to slow the toxin."

"Of course," the priest replied. "I'll prepare the medicine."

He disappeared into a back room, closing the door behind him. William and Aella could only wait, their anxiety growing with each passing moment. They turned to Gorn, offering words of comfort.

"You'll be fine, Gorn," William said, forcing a confident tone. "I know it."

But Gorn's condition had worsened. He looked at William, his eyes brimming with tears. "I'll be honest with you, William," he rasped, his voice weak. "If I don't make it, know that you quickly became the son I never had. You're a good lad. Thank you for everything."

William's heart ached. He cherished Gorn's words, but the underlying message filled him with dread. This wasn't the time for farewells.

"I appreciate your kind words, Gorn," William said, his voice firm. "I also see you as a father figure who cared for me in difficult times. But cut the crap about goodbyes. You're going to pull through this. Do you hear me?"

William's forceful words seemed to have an effect. Gorn nodded, a glimmer of determination returning to his eyes. "Yes," he said, his voice stronger. "I'll pull through. How can I leave my family alone? This damn toxin won't win."

Though William disliked the defeatist tone, he couldn't blame Gorn for his despair. The man was clearly suffering, his weakened state driving him to speak words of surrender.

Aella, however, seethed with a mixture of grief and fury. That damned demon had not only murdered her two companions but was now, even in death, trying to claim Gorn's life as well. It was infuriating!

She clenched her fists, resisting the urge to unleash a torrent of curses and punch the nearest solid object. Perhaps the sanctity of the church gave her pause, preventing her from succumbing to her rage.

They waited anxiously as the priest returned, a vial of shimmering yellow liquid in his hand. Neither William nor Aella could identify its contents, but the priest had assured them it would help Gorn recover and slow the spread of the toxin. They placed their trust in his expertise.

"Here you go," the priest announced, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "This concoction is crafted from various medicinal herbs, enhanced by my divine magic."

Priests and members of the various churches scattered throughout the land often referred to healing magic as "divine magic." It was a matter of semantics, as the magic itself functioned no differently than other forms.

However, many religious figures channeled a unique energy source, often attributed to divine powers.

Gorn accepted the vial and drank the contents in a single gulp. The effect was immediate. A wave of relief washed over him, and color returned to his face. "I already feel better," he remarked, surprised. "How is that possible?"

"You'll continue to improve over the next few hours," the priest explained, "but the effects are temporary. This should stabilize you until the arrival of the church member I mentioned."

Despite the momentary relief of seeing Gorn's condition improve, William knew it was a temporary reprieve.

The uncertainty of the future gnawed at him.

'What if this other priest can't cure Gorn? What then?'

The thought of losing Gorn, who had become a true friend and mentor, was unbearable. But all they could do now was wait and hope.

The trio left the church, stepping back into the bustling city.

"I have some errands to run," Aella announced. "You two will have to manage on your own for a bit."

"No problem," Gorn said with a reassuring smile. "We'll find a tavern to rest in."

"See you later, Aella. Take care," William added.

They bid farewell and watched as Aella disappeared into the crowd.

"What a situation, eh?" Gorn remarked, clapping William on the shoulder. "Let's head to that tavern."

They decided to return to the same tavern they had visited before – a decent establishment with reasonable prices. They needed to wait seven days for the other priest to arrive, and a luxurious inn was out of the question.

This time, they opted for a single room. William wanted to stay close to Gorn, to keep an eye on him and ensure his condition didn't worsen.

"That medicine has made me drowsy," Gorn confessed as they entered their room. "I'm going to rest for a bit, alright?"

Before William could even reply, Gorn collapsed onto the bed, snoring loudly.

"What kind of special skill is that, falling asleep so quickly?" William murmured, a wry smile touching his lips.

He had little to do but wait. Chrono Shift was still on cooldown, and even if it wasn't, he wouldn't have used it. His focus was solely on Gorn's recovery.

He settled at the small table in the room, pulling out the manual for Kinetic Burst.

As he flipped through the pages, his gaze fell upon the demon sword, still wrapped in cloth and resting in the corner of the table.

A strange sensation washed over him, a mix of unease and morbid curiosity.

'Must be my trauma,' he thought, quickly averting his gaze.

He returned to his reading, immersing himself in the intricacies of Kinetic Burst. After an hour or so, William decided to seek out a restaurant and procure some food.

Gorn was still sound asleep, but he would undoubtedly wake up hungry. Nourishment was crucial for his recovery, or at the very least, it would prevent his condition from deteriorating further.

Alderanth boasted a wide array of culinary options, from humble street vendors to lavish establishments.

Mindful of Gorn's funds, William opted for a more affordable eatery. Even the cheaper restaurants in Alderanth offered surprisingly good quality.

He settled on a place called Robert's Delights, the name bringing a smile to his face. The interior was cozy, with ample seating and warm lighting.

A steady flow of customers provided a vote of confidence. After perusing the menu, William decided on two seafood platters.

Seafood was a rare treat in Willow Creek. Although a river flowed nearby, he lacked the time for fishing, and the variety of fish was limited.

Alderanth, however, benefited from numerous surrounding rivers and lakes, teeming with diverse aquatic life.

"Would it be possible to have these packed to go?" William asked.

The man who took his order was tall and stout, with a jovial demeanor. He wore a chef's uniform, and William assumed he was Robert, the owner.

Robert seemed surprised by the request. William remembered that takeout and delivery were not common practices in this world. Will he refuse? he wondered.

But Robert's reaction was quite the opposite. A broad smile spread across his face. "Young man," he declared, "you've just given me a brilliant idea to expand my business! Thank you!"

With that, he bustled back to the kitchen.

William couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He had missed the opportunity to introduce the concept of food delivery to this world.

'Ah well,' he thought, 'being an adventurer is far more lucrative anyway, especially if I become strong.'

After a short wait, William received his order, carefully packaged in sturdy containers. The chef, still beaming, likely continued to envision his future delivery empire.

Back in the tavern room, Gorn remained blissfully asleep. William decided to wake him. Gorn startled awake, momentarily disoriented, but quickly regained his composure.

"I thought something was wrong," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Hmm, what's that delicious smell?"

"I brought us dinner," William announced, revealing the seafood platters. "Want to try some?"

Gorn's eyes lit up at the sight of the food. He was clearly famished. They ate while chatting about life. Robert's Delights did not disappoint. The seafood was fresh and expertly prepared.

However, as they ate, Gorn's condition took a turn for the worse. This wasn't supposed to happen. The priest had been confident the medicine would halt the toxin's progress, but it seemed to be failing.

"What's wrong, Gorn?" William asked, his voice laced with concern.

The black veins beneath Gorn's skin grew more prominent, creeping up his neck and onto his face. His eyes took on an unnatural reddish hue.

Panic swelled within William. Should he seek help? But who? The priest had said no one in the city could help at this point.

Suddenly, a strange sensation washed over William, a tingling awareness of something amiss. He felt a presence, a shift in the very air around them.

A chill ran down William's spine. The presence emanated from the demonic sword, still wrapped in cloth on the table. An inexplicable urge to uncover it, to see the obsidian blade once more, compelled him forward.

With trembling hands, he peeled back the fabric. The sword lay bare, its dark surface marred with scratches and chips, a shadow of its former menacing glory. No power pulsed from it, no demonic energy thrummed in its depths. It seemed inert, lifeless.

Yet, as William reached out and touched the cold surface of the blade, a voice echoed in his mind, raspy and chilling, sending shivers down his spine.

"Finally," it rasped, "a true heir..."

A System notification flashed before his eyes.