Marvel Ultimate Gacha

"As I've told you before," Count Lark continued, his voice steady but with a hint of sincerity, "he is blessed by the light. Let me share a family secret with you—he actually helped my daughter with a similar problem."

The Marchioness raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Your daughter was cursed?!"

Count Lark nodded solemnly. "Sadly, yes. It plagued her life for years." He paused, then added inwardly, 'But I've learned over the years that sometimes, a curse isn't what it seems. Keyla always referred to her acne as a curse, after all.'

The Marchioness frowned, still uncertain. "What do you have to lose, really? If I'm wrong, we'll leave, and you'll never hear from me again, except for matters of the County." He added seeing her face.

"Is that a promise?" she asked, her tone skeptical yet curious.

"I swear on my ancestors. If he fails, the only things we'll ever speak of are County matters." Count Lark said and hoped Lith or Michael could save her daughter.

After some time both Lith and Michael were called here.

When they reached the Marchioness' house, Ainz moved so fast through all the barriers and guards that Lith didn't manage to take a proper look around. He had to spend all his energies just to keep up with his pace.

Before they realized it, they were in a fancy parlour. Both nobles stood up at their arrival.

"That was fast, Ainz." The Marchioness seemed pleasantly surprised.

"The young ones seems to have more than one ace up his sleeve." Ainz said.

The Marchioness hastily led Lith and Michael to her daughter's bedroom, barely giving them time to process what was happening. Her urgency made it clear that there was no room for hesitation or input from them.

Lith, feeling the strain of being rushed, gritted his teeth. "I get it already! You don't have any faith in me. Quit dragging me around like a fcking parcel!"* he thought angrily to himself.

For a moment, he considered deliberately failing—just to get back at her for her lack of trust. But then he caught a glimpse of Count Lark's troubled expression. The man was clearly on edge, and something in Lith's instincts told him that there was much more at stake here than just the life of a girl.

Reaching the room they found the patient, It was a beautiful young woman in her early twenties, with only cotton gauzes to cover her chest area, compressing a huge wound, ten centimetres (4inches) wide that cut her diagonally from the left shoulder to the right hip.

"Want to bet?" Michael suddenly spoke, prompting both the Marchioness and Ainz to glare at him, while Count Lark's face showed disbelief upon hearing this.

"My daughter is in danger, and you think this is a game?" The Marchioness snapped, her face contorted with frustration.

"What does your daughter's situation have to do with me?" Michael asked.

"I am giving Lith a chance to prove himself," she replied.

"No, you're just desperate for your own daughter," Michael scoffed, looking at her.

"Why you..." She was about to lash out when Ainz stopped her.

"Stop resisting the one who is trying to save your daughter," Ainz said, his tone firm and unwavering.

"Fine, just heal my daughter," she backed off, and Michael looked at Lith.

"Let's see who can heal her faster," he said, as Lith nodded. Both then began inspecting the situation, carefully hiding their use of True magic. After a moment, they exchanged glances.

"It's not a curse," they both said at once.

"Huh?" the Marchioness asked.

"It's not a curse. Just some kind of magically laced poison," Michael explained, and Lith nodded.

"What?!?" The Marchioness lost control, stamping her feet on the floor.

"You heard him." Lith was tired of being looked down upon, treated like some illiterate barbarian. "It's a slow-release poison that disrupts the effects of light magic, turning any attempt to cure it into a new wound. Simply brilliant. It's almost impossible to cure such a condition."

"Almost?" The Marchioness knitted her brows. "Are you saying you can cure her?"

"Yes," Lith confirmed. "It will take about a week to make the proper adjustments to one of my spells. It's the same thing I did for Count Lark a few years ago, just more complicated." They hadn't arranged this speech together, but it was the truth.

It was just like Keyla's acne—only instead of removing natural impurities, he had to remove the artificial ones to make healing possible.

"Kid, my daughter's life is no joke. I tried, Ainz tried." She pointed to the black-obsessed mage. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure. I will be back in a week, and…" Lith tried to move, but the Marchioness stood in his way.

"If what you say is true, you'll stay here and cure her as soon as you're finished, not a second later!"

Lith was even more enraged. He was being taken hostage by a grief-stricken madwoman abusing her power, but he remained silent. Both Count Lark and his family were in danger.

"It is never wise to mistreat a healer, my liege," Ainz's voice echoed in her mind, his whisper cutting through the tension.

"Healers sustain life, but how you treat them affects their attitude and the care they provide. If Manohar is unavailable in the future, and if Lith can indeed do what he says, do you really want to make an enemy of him?"

"Please, save my daughter," the Marchioness said with a deep bow. "If you manage to heal her, I will send you to whatever academy you choose. I swear to the gods."

"This is much better," Lith thought.

"What about you, young man?" Ainz then asked Michael, who looked at him.

"I can help her in five seconds," Michael said as Marchioness came to him.

"So help her," Marchioness urged.

"I will not," Michael said as Marchioness looked at him, her frustration growing.

"Count Lark and my parents have been chasing after you people for the past three months," Michael said, his tone laced with bitterness. "If you could force them to keep following you around like dogs all this time, then why shouldn't I? Consider it petty revenge." With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving the Marchioness standing there, frozen and powerless to respond.

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