Going Dark Makes You Thirty Percent Stronger

Anse rushed into the bedroom like a gust of wind. His gaze swept over the scabbed wounds on Osborne's body before settling on his rising and falling chest.

"Thank goodness."

He was still alive, but he was far from well.

Scattered across Osborne's cheeks and skin were patches of greenish-black scars, wreathed in black mist and giving off a faint stench.

The scars were still spreading outward, slowly but relentlessly.

"He's been hit by a Plague Spell." The man at the door turned to look at Anse, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Give me a moment, and I can save him."

Anse glanced at him. From this angle, he could see the bloodstains on the man's back. His cleric's robe had been split open by a cross-shaped sword wound, blood soaking half his body.

However, with the man leaning against the door, it was impossible to see how bad the wound was.

"Are you all right?" Anse asked politely.

"I'm fine." The man shook his head slightly, then turned to Brynhild at the doorway with a complicated expression.

Anse discreetly gave Brynhild a look, then placed his fingers against Osborne's forehead. Dense white radiance poured into him, and the scars visibly began to fade.

But even after his pool of Lay on Hands was exhausted, the plague marks had not vanished. As soon as the healing stopped, they gradually worsened, quickly returning to their original state.

"That troublesome?" Anse raised an eyebrow.

Plague Spell was a fifth-circle Necromancy spell. It infected its target with a magical plague lasting seven days, during which the target continuously suffered Necrotic Damage and remained poisoned.

Plagues and poisons were broad categories with countless subtypes, and their difficulty of removal varied wildly. Some could be endured even by ordinary people, while others could