In Another World, All Milfs Will Be Mine-Chapter 187: [ - - ]

Thousands of miles away from the rugged, and still recovering town of Auravale, across a vast and treacherous ocean, stood the capital city of Kingdom of Morvayne, Springhaven.

Springhaven was a city that defied imagination.

Towering spires of white marble, catching the sunlight and scattering it across the sprawling metropolis below.

Massive walls of black iron and enchanted stone encircled the city, guarded by thousands of elite soldiers.

The streets were paved with polished cobblestones, lined with grand estates, bustling markets, and statues.

And somewhere in the city in a fortress made of white stone and marble and towering pillars, the atmosphere was completely devoid of grandiosity. There was only heavy silence and the suffocating scent of burning medicinal incense.

Inside a dimly lit, opulent bedchamber, a woman lay on a massive four-poster bed. The silken sheets did nothing to hide how frail she had become. Her skin was as pale as moonlight, her cheekbones sharp and hollow. Her silver hair was splayed across the pillows, lacking its usual lustre.

And beside her sat a man.

The man wore a heavy robe of deep purple velvet, trimmed with gold thread.

A heavy, jewelled crown rested on his aging hair.

He was a man whose mere presence usually demanded the entire room to drop to their knees, but right now, his broad shoulders were slumped.

He held the frail woman’s hand in his large, calloused grip.

"My love," the woman whispered. Her voice was weak, barely more than a breath, "You must rest. You have not slept in days."

"I am fine," the man replied, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble that tried and failed to hide his desperation, "I am not the one who needs rest."

The woman smiled faintly, a sad, knowing look in her eyes, "My time is nearing. We both know this. You must let me go gracefully."

"No," the man said immediately. His grip tightened slightly, careful not to hurt her, but firm enough to convey his absolute refusal, "I will not accept that. You will not leave me. I forbid it."

"Unfortunately you cannot command the gods, my dear," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"I will fight the heavens if I have to, tear it down with these bare hands," he growled, his eyes blazing with a fierce, dangerous light, "I am willing to give up my wealth, my power, my life, everything, but not you."

"Please! Hold on a bit more. Don’t give up."

Just then, the heavy oak doors of the chamber swung open, and an old man rushed in followed closely by about half a dozen attendants carrying golden trays.

He was the Physician attending to the lady. The old man wore robes of green and gold, has is face flushed with excitement.

"Do something! You useless fool," the man barked, not even turning his head to look at the Physician, "You have drained the treasury, you got whatever you wanted, you have spent months, and she only grows weaker. Save her, or I swear your head will have your twitching body hang at the town centre."

The physician immediately dropped to one knee, bowing deeply.

"Your Majesty! Despair no longer!" the physician declared, his voice rising in dramatic flair, "The heavens have smiled upon us. I have returned with the cure!" 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

The man finally looked up, his eyes narrowing, "Speak."

The physician stood up, gesturing grandly to a steaming, emerald-coloured ceramic bowl held by his trembling assistant.

"Sire, this is no ordinary remedy," the physician began, his voice taking sounding proud, "To obtain the primary ingredient, I travelled to the jagged, merciless peaks of the Howling Mountains."

"Oh, the hardships we faced! The winds there cut like daggers of ice, seeking to sever the very soul from the flesh."

"We traversed the Abyss of Whispers, where the shadows themselves tried to drag us down."

"My guards fell one by one to the frost-wyrms, and I... I hung from a cliff by my very fingertips, staring death in its cavernous maw, just to pluck the elusive Sun-Kissed Ember-Root from the frozen stone!"

The man’s face darkened. The air in the room seemed to drop by ten degrees.

"I do not care about your damn fingertips," the man said, his voice deadly and cold, "Get to the point."

The physician gulped, his poetic grandstanding dying instantly in his throat, "Y-Yes, Your Majesty. Of course."

He quickly stepped forward, taking the bowl from the attendant.

"This is a miraculous concoction, sire," the physician explained rapidly, dropping the flowery language. "The Sun-Kissed Ember-Root is pure, unfiltered vitality. But it is too strong for the human body to handle alone. It would burn the lady from the inside out."

"Then why did you bring it?" the man was annoyed by the constant failures.

"Because I neutralized the burning properties!" the physician said proudly.

"I boiled it for three days and three nights in the bone marrow of a juvenile Mountain Drake. The drake’s marrow is deeply grounding and rich in life force. It acts as a shield, allowing the lady’s body to absorb the Ember-Root’s raw energy without taking damage."

"I also added crushed Moon-Lotus leaves to soothe her blood vessels. They complement each other perfectly. The marrow protects, the root heals, and the lotus stabilizes."

The man looked at the steaming green broth. It smelled pungent, earthy, and strangely sweet.

"Give it to her," the man ordered.

The physician carefully approached the bed. With the man’s gentle help, they propped the lady up against the pillows. The physician lifted a silver spoon to her pale lips.

"Drink, my lady," the physician urged softly.

The woman parted her lips and took a small sip. She grimaced at the taste but swallowed. Slowly, spoonful by spoonful, they fed her the entire bowl.

The room held its collective breath. They waited.

A minute passed. Then two.

Suddenly, the lady took a deep breath. The suffocating wheeze that had plagued her chest for months was gone.

Colour began to bloom in her ghostly pale cheeks. The greyish tint to her skin faded, replaced by a healthy, warm flush. Her breathing steadied, growing deep and rhythmic.

"It... it works," the man breathed out, his stern face breaking into a look of absolute, profound relief. He touched her cheek. It was warm, "It works!"

The attendants behind the physician let out quiet cheers and sighs of relief. They whispered congratulations to each other.

"You have done well, Physician," the man said, his voice thick with emotion. He looked at the man with genuine gratitude, "Name your reward. Gold, lands, titles. Whatever you desire, it is yours."

The physician puffed out his chest, stroking his long beard with a haughty, self-satisfied smile.

"Your Majesty’s praise is reward enough," the physician said, looking exceptionally proud of himself. "My genius in alchemy and medicine is unmatched. I merely applied my vast intellect to..."

But before he could blow his horn properly, the woman shuddered.

It was a violent, full-body convulsion. Her eyes snapped open, wide and unseeing. Her pupils rolled back behind her sockets as she looked possessed.

"Galadriel?" the man asked, his relief instantly shattering.

The woman’s back arched off the bed. She twitched frantically, her hands gripping the silken sheets so hard her knuckles turned white.

"What is happening?!" the man roared, leaping to his feet.

"I-It is normal, sire!" the physician stuttered, his haughty demeanour vanishing, replaced by sheer panic. "The Ember-Root is purging the illness! The bad blood is being flushed out of her system! It is a sign of healing!"

As if on cue, the woman lurched forward. She opened her mouth and spurted a massive mouthful of pitch-black blood all over the white sheets.

The man caught her as she collapsed backward. Her skin, which had just regained its colour, was now turning an alarming shade of ashen grey. Dark purple veins pulsed visibly beneath her skin, crawling up her neck like spider webs.

Her breathing stopped.

"Galadriel!"