To them, this situation was a riddle with no answer, a curse that defied the laws of medicine and magic.
But they all shared a singular, unshakable belief. They believed that this mystery, which had brought their city to the brink of annihilation, would be solved by only one man.
William was the legend who made the impossible mundane. If the wounds wouldn't heal, he would find the reason. If the enemy was unending, he would find the source.
Everyone watching believed—with a fervour that bordered on religious—that their Guild Master would pull a miracle from the air and flip the table on fate itself.
William was unaware of the sheer weight of their faith. He didn't realise that his very presence was the only thing keeping the city's remaining defenders from collapsing into terminal despair. He was too busy staring into the abyss of Lara's wound.
