A deathly hospital stay

As Oliver's eyelids gradually peeled back, revealing the world around him. The room was shrouded in a deep, murky darkness that was only occasionally interrupted by the flickering flames of the torches that clung to the walls like ancient sentinels. The dancing light cast eerie shadows across the room, imbuing it with an otherworldly quality that sent chills down his spine.

A searing pain began to course through his body, radiating from his extremities and settling in his chest like a smoldering ember. Every breath felt like daggers scraping against his ribcage, and the simple act of moving his fingers sent electric shocks of pain shooting through his arms. He groaned and tried to sit up, but his muscles refused to obey his commands. It was as if his limbs were made of lead, heavy and unresponsive.

As he glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings, Oliver's heart sank. He was in a medieval hospital, surrounded by the sick and dying. The air was thick with the pungent scent of herbs and potions, and the sound of patients moaning in agony filled his ears. His eyes traveled from one bed to the next, taking in the haggard faces of the other patients. Their skin was a sickly shade of yellow, and their eyes were sunken and lifeless.

Suddenly, a dark figure materialized before him, causing his heart to skip a beat. The figure was the hospital's resident physician, dressed in a long black robe that seemed to swallow him whole. The physician's face was obscured by a hood, making it impossible to discern any features. In his hand, he held a rusty surgical knife, its jagged edges glinting ominously in the flickering torchlight.

Oliver couldn't help but shudder as the physician approached him, the surgical knife held aloft. He braced himself for the pain that was sure to come, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. But then, to his surprise, the physician let out a hearty laugh. "Fear not, my good man," he boomed, "for I am here to heal you with my mighty knowledge of the humors and leechcraft."

With a flourish, the physician brought the knife down towards Oliver's arm, causing him to wince in anticipation. But then, to his immense relief, the physician stopped short and burst out laughing. "You really thought I would do this?" he chuckled. "Na, we do this to new patients as a joke. In fact, we already healed you by stitching up all your wounds and replenishing your blood. We did the same with your other three friends, but compared to you, their injuries were inconsequential."

Oliver's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. It was as if he had been thrust into a nightmare and was only now waking up from it. His mind raced as he tried to piece together the events that had led him here.

He remembered a great force, a presence that had whispered to him, urging him to take control. It was a feeling he had never experienced before, both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. And then, everything had gone black.

Now, as he lay in the bed next to the physician who had nearly given him a heart attack, Oliver couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. How had he ended up here, in this medieval hospital, surrounded by the sick and dying? It was as if he had been transported back in time, to a world where medicine was more art than science.

As he glanced around the room once more, taking in the flickering torches and the sickly patients, Oliver couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. What other secrets did this place hold? What other horrors were waiting to be uncovered?

He turned his gaze to the physician, who was now staring at him intently. His face was inscrutable, his eyes hidden behind the deep shadows of his hood. Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about the man, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

But before he could voice his concerns, the physician spoke up. "You're lucky to be alive, my friend," he said in a low, rumbling voice. "Whatever happened to you out there, it was a close call."

Oliver nodded, still feeling a bit disoriented. "What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The physician hesitated for a moment before replying. "Well your friends brought you in while you were covered in deep laceration's covering your body, all on your arms, legs and body. We counted 21 lacerations, 8 on your body, 8 on both of your legs, and 5 on your arms. Luckally there weren't more, your friend amelia casted a defense magic on you, so that helped."

"Hey, your awake. Hey Richard, Raphael, he's awake!" Luis said approaching Oliver.

Oliver turned his head to see his friends Richard, Raphael, and Amelia standing at the foot of his bed. They all looked relieved to see him awake, but their expressions quickly turned to concern as they took in the state of his body.

"Oliver, what happened to you?" Richard asked, his voice trembling with emotion.

"I don't know," Oliver replied weakly. "I can't remember."

Amelia stepped forward, her hands glowing with a soft, blue light. "Let me take a look," she said gently, placing her hands on Oliver's chest.

As she did so, a wave of warmth washed over him, easing the pain and tension in his body. He could feel her magic coursing through him, searching for any signs of injury or trauma.

After a few moments, she withdrew her hands, her expression grave. "Oliver, you were attacked," she said solemnly. "Whatever did this to you was powerful and cruel."

Oliver's heart sank at her words. Who or what could have done this to him? And why?

"I'm just glad you're okay," Raphael said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Oliver nodded weakly, feeling a surge of gratitude towards his friends. Without them, he might not have made it.

As the group fell into a contemplative silence, Luis spoke up. "Oliver, do you remember anything at all? Even the smallest detail could help us figure out what happened."

Oliver thought for a moment, trying to recall anything that might be helpful. But all he could remember was the feeling of something taking control before everything went dark.

"I'm sorry, Luis," he said. "I don't remember anything useful."

Luis nodded understandingly, but Oliver could see the worry etched on his friend's face. They all knew that whatever had attacked Oliver could still be out there, waiting for another opportunity to strike.

Oliver turned his head to see his friends Richard, Raphael, and Amelia standing at the foot of his bed. They all looked relieved to see him awake, but their expressions quickly turned to concern as they took in the state of his body.

"Oliver, what happened to you?" Richard asked.

"I was with Amelia and Charles on the second floor of the dungeon when we were attacked by five goblins," Oliver said. "Wait why am i telling yall this when Amelia was with yall this whole time? She was conscious the whole fight while I don't remember what happened when charles went down."

"Oh, right wait i didn't know they were going to ask you that question to you," Amelia replied.

Richard and Raphael began laughing at their mistake before looking at each other. "OK, What do you mean you don't remember?" Raphael asked, his brow furrowed.

Oliver frowned, trying to recall the events of the fight. "I remember just a voice asking to take over and suddenly everything went dark."

Richard and Raphael exchanged glances. "Ah, your ability bust have came out. What's it called again?" Richard asked,

"Forward march i believe?" Oliver said questioning if it's correct.

"Your ability killed those 4 goblins while i was healing and kicking the first gobling gave me a chance to heal Charels atleast a bit," Amelia said.

"Ah, Who knew your ability was so cool," Richard said with a grin.

Oliver smiled weakly, still feeling a bit confused. "I don't know if cool is the word I would use," he said. "It's scary to think that I can lose control like that."

"It's OK," Raphael said reassuringly. "We're all here for you, and we'll help you learn how to control your ability."

Amelia nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we're a team. We'll always have each other's backs."

Oliver felt a surge of gratitude towards his friends. Despite the danger they faced in the dungeon, he knew that they would always be there for each other. He settled back into his bed, feeling grateful to be alive and surrounded by such loyal friends.

Richard, Luis, Raphael, and Amelia exited the hospital with a determined stride, their minds set on reaching the library. This haven of knowledge and wisdom held within its walls a vast wealth of information spanning the entirety of human history and beyond.

With the library in their sights, the quartet made their way through the bustling streets, their excitement building with each step. As they approached the towering building, their hearts raced with anticipation, knowing that within its walls lay the answers to all their questions and more.

Upon entering the grand entrance, they were greeted by the sight of row upon row of shelves, each one brimming with books, manuscripts, and tomes of all shapes and sizes. The air was thick with the scent of ancient pages, and the sound of pages being turned filled their ears.

With their quest in mind, they sought out the help of the knowledgeable librarian, a sage-like figure who seemed to know all there was to know about the vast repository of information within the library's walls.

"Excuse us," Richard said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We are searching for books on the ability Forward March. Can you help us?"

The librarian's eyes sparkled with understanding, and with a wise nod, she led them to a section of the library dedicated solely to the subject at hand. There, they found volumes upon volumes of tomes dedicated to Forward March, each one more detailed and intricate than the last.