Chapter 315: Don’t surrender to your fate.
Oldie, Baldie, Blondie, and Saddie —none of them dared to follow.
They remained downstairs, watching Nigel head upstairs with speed that almost blurred into the air itself.
Yet ...
None of them looked surprised.
Not even a little.
"Now that Great Ancestral Uncle is here, Little Master will be fine ... won’t he?" Blondie asked softly, her eyes fixed on the staircase.
Baldie fidgeted with his hands while Saddie’s sobs finally came to a complete stop. Oldie only let out a weary sigh.
"We can’t be certain," he replied honestly. "But we can hope."
"It’s only the old condition flaring up again," Baldie scoffed lightly, trying to sound confident. "It had settled down before. It’ll settle down again. Little Leo will be fine. We don’t need to worry any longer."
Although he spoke with certainty, everyone could hear the desperation beneath his voice.
He wasn’t just reassuring the others.
He was trying to reassure himself as well.
They all were aware of the situation, but only Oldie truly understood what every flare-up of the congenital condition meant.
Each time it resurfaced, it silently stole away another piece of Little Leo’s lifespan.
A few more years ...
A little more vitality ...
A little more hope ...
None of them knew how many years the little boy still had left.
Nor did they know whether there would ever come a day when he could truly recover.
Or whether that merciless curse would slowly wither him away until there was nothing left.
Upstairs—
Nigel pushed the bedroom door open without the slightest hesitation and stepped inside.
His gaze swept across the three healers, who were still desperately trying every possible method they knew.
Yet despite all their efforts, nothing seemed to be working.
The moment they sensed Nigel’s presence, every movement came to an abrupt halt.
"Youth Lord!"
All three bowed immediately, lowering their heads respectfully.
Although their greeting sounded composed, the uncontrollable trembling of their bodies betrayed the fear gripping them.
Nigel didn’t acknowledge the greeting. Nor did he grant them permission to rise.
While the three remained standing with their heads lowered, waiting in suffocating silence ...
Nigel’s attention had already shifted to the one that mattered.
His eyes landed upon the tiny figure lying motionless on the enormous canopy bed.
Small.
Pale.
Fragile.
As though a single gust of wind could scatter him away.
He smelled the scent wafting in the room, and his expression instantly darkened. The temperature inside immediately seemed to plummet.
A terrifying pressure spread through the air.
The three healers felt as though an invisible mountain had crashed down upon their shoulders. Sweat quickly gathered across their foreheads, and their breathing became labored.
"Lord ... we ..."
One of them finally gathered enough courage to speak.
But before he could finish—
"Didn’t I forbid all of you from using your unauthorised healing arts on him?"
Nigel’s voice wasn’t loud. Yet it exploded throughout the room like thunder.
The three healers immediately collapsed onto both knees.
"Then who gave you the courage to lay your filthy hands on him again?" His gaze only turned colder. "He’s a child. Not your experiment."
"Who gave you permission?"
The furious roar made the very walls seem to tremble. And the oppressive aura grew even heavier.
Before Aegen could react—
Nigel had already appeared before one of the healers. His hand wrapped around the man’s throat.
With almost no effort, he lifted him completely off the ground.
The healer’s feet dangled helplessly in the air.
"I asked, who gave you permission?"
The terrified healer struggled desperately. "L-Lord ..." His face rapidly turned red. "You misunderstand..."
"We never intended to harm Little Master ..."
The remaining two healers were trembling just as violently.
Seeing the man’s complexion rapidly losing color, they hurriedly crawled forward.
"Lord!"
"You truly misunderstand!"
"We only used our healing magic to stabilize Little Master’s condition!"
Nigel’s eyes slowly shifted toward them.
The instant his gaze landed upon them, both healers instinctively lowered their heads, not daring to meet those terrifying eyes.
"If ..."
One healer swallowed nervously.
"If we hadn’t used it ..., we feared Little Master wouldn’t have survived until now."
His voice shook.
"His condition isn’t improving. And ... without a true cure ..."
He hesitated before forcing himself to continue.
"... we may no longer be able to preserve his life for much longer."
Nigel listened in complete silence. There wasn’t the slightest trace of surprise on his face. It was as though he had already known this outcome long ago.
The fingers around the healer’s throat unconsciously tightened.
The man struggled violently, his face turning almost purple.
Just before he completely lost consciousness—
Nigel released him.
The healer crashed heavily onto the floor, gasping desperately for air.
The other two immediately glanced toward their companion with concern before quickly lowering their heads again.
Neither dared speak recklessly.
Finally, one of them gathered enough courage.
"Lord, we have exhausted every method we possess." His voice carried obvious helplessness.
"We no longer have the capability to improve Little Master’s condition."
He slowly lowered his head further.
"I believe, we should begin preparing ourselves for the worst."
The room fell silent.
Nigel’s fingers slowly curled into fists.
His gaze drifted once again toward the tiny boy lying quietly upon the bed.
His pale little face ...
His labored breathing ...
His expression, twisted by pain even in unconsciousness ...
Every single sight tightened Nigel’s heart.
His face grew colder still.
"Leave."
Only a single word.
Soft.
Calm.
Yet carrying an authority that none of them dared disobey.
The three healers immediately scrambled to their feet. Without wasting another second, they hurried toward the door and fled the room.
Only Aegen remained.
He looked worriedly toward Nigel.
"Youth Lord ... should I—"
"Don’t delay any longer." Nigel cut him off before he could finish. His voice had become quieter. But somehow, it was even heavier than before.
"Prepare what’s needed."
He looked at the unconscious child.
"He’s already suffering enough. I can’t bear to watch this frail little body endure any more pain."
Aegen instinctively wanted to object. He wanted to persuade him to reconsider.
But he knew ...
This wasn’t a decision he had the authority to oppose.
After a respectful bow, he quietly withdrew to make the necessary preparations.
Silence returned to the room.
Nigel slowly approached the bed.
The closer he drew, the clearer he could see every delicate feature on the little boy’s face.
He was only four years old —yet was burdened with suffering that many adults couldn’t endure.
How could fate be so cruel?
Even death seemed unwilling to take him peacefully.
Although Little Leo’s complexion had become as pale as fresh snow, his adorable features remained unchanged. He still looked so much like the little girl Nigel remembered from his past.
The little guy’s tiny brows stayed tightly knitted together. Even though unconscious, his little body was still enduring unbearable pain.
Nigel stood quietly beside the bed. A flicker of guilt flashed across his usually indifferent face.
Slowly, he reached out. His large hand gently brushed through the child’s soft hair.
"Little Leo ..." His voice became almost imperceptibly gentler. "You’re a good kid. You never deserved this fate."
"So ... don’t accept it."
His fingers lovingly stroked the boy’s head.
"Fight it."
"Defeat it."
"Only then will you get the chance to meet your mother."
His hand slowly moved down, gently caressing the child’s pale cheek. A rare tenderness softened the darkness in his eyes.
"She may have forgotten you. But she loved you more than anyone. So much that she even forgot herself."
He paused.
His voice became even quieter.
"So, for her, don’t surrender to your fate."