Prophecy Came True!

Louis, Dalton, and Bazel had sorely underestimated the mystical prowess encapsulated within Grandpa Lance's sword scrolls. They had naively anticipated the release of merely a dozen blades, perhaps a few more, from each scroll. Yet, to their astonishment and horror, the scrolls' activation summoned twin golden suns that blazed fiercely in the sky, a spectacle beyond their wildest imaginations.

The ancient lich, Brandon, had surely not foreseen such a formidable display either. Had he known of the celestial phenomena that would accompany the scrolls' breaking, he most certainly would have refrained from allowing Louis the opportunity to deploy them. Indeed, his survival instincts would have deterred him from engaging in combat with the trio altogether, for liches, ever wary of their mortality, covet eternal unlife above all.

It was a grave miscalculation that led to Brandon's untimely demise.

That very morning, the authorities of Lionheart City had whisked away Louis, Dalton, and Bazel for urgent questioning. By afternoon, the effects of the clerical potions? administered by temple clergy to keep them lucid, had worn off, plunging them back into a deep unconscious state. Lionheart City spared no effort in their treatment, recognizing the trio's role in vanquishing a formidable threat.

Their survival, as recounted by the temple priests, was attributed to their meticulous preparations. The activation of an array of protective scrolls, light defense, life-saving, and others, shielded them in those critical moments. Moreover, their swift retreat had positioned them at the fringe of the assault's reach.

Even so, their escape from death was a narrow one, chalked up to sheer luck. After three days of convalescence in the city's hospital, confusion still clouded their minds upon awakening. Disoriented, they each wondered about their identities and the reasons for their predicament. It was only the vivid memory of the golden suns that snapped them back to reality.

They realized it was Grandpa Lance's sword skill that had nearly been their undoing, not Brandon's malevolence.

"Outrageous! Absolutely outrageous! How could Grandpa Lance not forewarn us of such a powerful artifact?" Louis exclaimed as he struggled to sit up in his hospital bed, relieved to see Dalton and Bazel stirring as well.

Bazel, groggily sitting up, chimed in, "I was about to curse Grandpa Lance for his recklessness, but then I remembered his words when he handed us the Sword Scrolls."

Dalton, finally regaining his senses, looked between his friends, a mix of frustration and relief etched across his features. "Yes, what did he exactly say? Because I think we might have overlooked something crucial."

"What did he say again?" Louis probed, his brow furrowed in concentration despite the pain.

Dalton shifted slightly on his bed, grimacing. "He told us that if he couldn't defeat the lich, we should toss the scroll aside and make a run for it."

Louis nodded slowly, his memory stirring. "Right, I remember now. At the time, I thought Grandpa Lance meant for us to use his Sword Intent Scroll as a distraction, to hold the lich at bay while we escaped."

Bazel, who had been quietly listening, added, "But now, thinking back, I don't think that was it at all. I reckon he was actually worried the scroll might obliterate us along with the lich. That's why he stressed on running away."

The room sank into a heavy silence as they all considered this new understanding. In the heat of battle, as the scroll unleashed its devastating power, they had been too focused on survival to fully grasp Grandpa Lance's cautious words. Now, reflecting on it, they realized just how close they had come to a different fate.

Suddenly, Dalton winced loudly, breaking the silence. "It hurts... it really, really hurts!"

"I'm hurting all over too," Louis groaned, attempting to adjust his position with little success.

Bazel's face contorted with a different kind of pain. "It's not just the physical pain. My heart aches! If I had known the true power of those scrolls... I mean, to think we used two at once! One alone might have been enough to end the lich and potentially us as well. Losing such a powerful artifact... it's like being stabbed with dozens of swords."

"Enough, stop," Dalton cut in, his voice tinged with frustration and regret. "We can't beat ourselves up over this. We consulted with that swordsman before this all went down. He said embedding sword skill into a scroll was already extraordinary and unpredictable. He never hinted at anything like releasing a sun!"

They all sighed, the weight of their miscalculation settling in. It was an error born from underestimating Grandpa Lance's capabilities, a mistake that revealed the unpredictable nature of magic and artifacts.

The trio had always known Grandpa Lance for his prowess in concocting powerful potions. The revelation of his skill with such potent sword scrolls was a stark reminder of why many ventured into the perilous unknown, chasing after such mystical treasures.

Just then, the door creaked open, and a nurse entered, clipboard in hand. Her presence brought a shift from the realm of ancient magic back to the reality of their hospital stay.

"Good, you're all awake. Here are your medical bills," she said, offering the clipboard to them with a professional smile. "Please review and sign when you're ready."

As they took the clipboard, the mundane task of signing off on medical expenses starkly contrasted with their recent brush with the arcane and dangerous.

"The medical expenses for the three of you over these three days originally totaled 108 gold coins," the nurse began, holding the bill with a professional ease. "However, the dean has kindly deducted a significant amount in light of your efforts to neutralize a major threat to Lionheart City. Thus, you owe only 20 gold coins."

She continued, detailing the division of the charges, "Of these 20 gold coins, 10 will go to our hospital and the other 10 will be forwarded to the Valkyrie Temple on your behalf."

Louis, somewhat relieved by the reasonable sum, reached into his pouch and counted out 25 gold coins. Handing them over, he smiled at the nurse. "Here are 20 for the hospital, and please accept the additional five as our thanks for the exceptional care during our recovery."

The nurse smiled warmly, accepting the coins. "That's very generous of you, thank you."

She hesitated slightly before pulling out another document. "I also have another bill here from the City Lord's Mansion. During your confrontation with the lich, over a dozen servants were injured, half of the mansion was destroyed, along with numerous pieces of valuable art, and extensive damage to the gardens. The preliminary estimates put losses at about 8,000 gold coins."

Seeing their anxious expressions, she quickly added, "Considering your significant contributions, the City Lord has decided to only ask for half of that amount from you, which rounds to about 3,000 gold coins."

Upon hearing this, Louis, Dalton, and Bazel simultaneously paled, each swaying slightly as if the ground beneath them had shifted.

"Hey, hey, why do you all look so faint suddenly?" the nurse asked, half-jokingly.

It was too much; the enormity of the sum rendered them speechless and dizzy. Over 3,000 gold coins! They could barely process the figure, their minds racing as they contemplated the daunting task of repaying such a debt.

Louis managed a weak chuckle. "Might as well have let Grandpa Lance's sword scroll finish us off."

Dalton groaned, "How many high-risk bounty missions would we need to tackle to make up that amount? And we can't even start to earn it back any time soon, given our injuries."

Bazel added morosely, "We didn't even profit from the original mission, and now our travel expenses are gone too. Might as well wait for the end here."

The nurse, sensing their despair, tried to offer a comforting smile but remained silent, knowing words offered little solace against such financial ruin.

As they absorbed their grim financial reality, Louis muttered almost to himself, "Grandpa Lance, if you're out there, we could really use some of that legendary help right about now. We're laid up for months and the guild can scrape together nearly 2,000 gold coins, but we're still short. Any help would mean the world."

The date was June 28, 3455, according to the Black Dragon Calendar, marking a particularly unlucky turn in their fates, exacerbated by a loss amounting to a small fortune. The overwhelming feeling of misfortune seemed to confirm the malign portents of the evil dragon's hexagram they had once scoffed at.