918
Medici gritted his teeth.
The powers of two beings currently stronger than him were locked in a tug-of-war within his body, while the "good luck" and blessings Ouroboros had left before they parted were rapidly being consumed by the Primordial Demoness.
Ouroboros was not a god yet, after all. However poor Cheek's condition was, she was still a genuine, long-established true god. The illnesses had never gone away; their advance had merely been temporarily checked by that good luck and the uninterrupted, small-scale "Reboots." The dizziness, blurred vision, and difficulty speaking remained.
The splitting headache and bizarre ailments had only temporarily eased. His throat had enough room for him to speak and breathe, but that was all. The Angel of Fate would not, and could not, eradicate them. As the vessel for their clashing powers, Medici felt a little fortunate that Cheek's virus had not directly invaded his brain yet, and struggled to rouse his mind through the various complications and drowsiness the illnesses brought.
Medici's mind raced, but the gulf in power between him and Cheek left this assassination with practically no uncertainty. Never in his life had he faced a perilous situation where he was about to die without any ability to resist.
Facing assassination by the true god of the Assassin pathway as a Sequence One, the fact that he had not died instantly already testified to his experience and formidable will!
Of course, the most important thing was still his good luck.
I can't let this drag on. The Great Serpent's protection will soon run out. Any longer, and I'll interfere with his apotheosis ritual... Right now, I'm just a talking Beyonder characteristic. Even if the Great Serpent came himself, he might not be able to save me...
*Heh, Cheek, you finally played a traditional