Heal Millo

Prologue

I, Nala, have been stuck in this situation for years. Wishing to live yet dying. The process of dying was scarier than death itself.

Perhaps those who have healthy bodies, who drink wantonly, eat without caution, sleep at anytime, and walk without pain, would not understand just how precious their bodies were.

Just how precious it was to live. And not be half-dead, not to survive, but actually live.

Sickness is a bastard.

I stared blankly at the report in my hands. I had expected this, my condition gradually deteriorated but everyday when I woke, I was filled with hope that it could be better. But suddenly being presented with a death report crushed my hope.

'...estimated three days to live.'

I laughed and cried, my laugh was hallow, without merry or cheer, it was devoid of joy. Maybe the humour in me had not been lost through the corrosion of time.

I could still ironically laugh at my plight.

And the bastard who caused this... is unhinged, actively targeting more victims.

I rolled the papers into a ball, tossed it perfectly into the dustbin. After years of receiving papers, and not having the ability to walk to the bin, I was an expert in my throwing skills.

Wiping my tears, I stared at the plain white ceiling I've grown to be familiar with. I swept my eyes across the ward, which I now call home.

It was pathetic, really. But somehow I wish I had a person to mourn for me, to make me feel even more pained than numb. To not feel so lifeless, and maybe I would be comforted... that I would be in someone's memory before my death. But no,

Homeless,

Lonewolf,

Antisocial.

What can I expect? It's the path I walk.

I chuckled softly and focused on the TV, hoping it'd comfort me a bit. To be distracted was the goal but even I knew it was impossible. Who could ignore a cold dagger hanging on their neck? With the inevitability of death? I definitely was not one that could.

I want to live, not survive. Getting distracted from your worries were probably for those who did not worry much.

The news anchor changed to a pretty lady dressed in blinding red attire. She exclaimed with excitement. “Greetings, citizens of Naza! The annual game competition; 'Millo's Healer' will soon begin! Application ends by midnight today and all applicants will be screened automatically and sent to the Astral Dimension by 3:00AM tomorrow. Are, you, excited?! The rules are the same, the rewards are as glamorous as ever! Tune in to the live broadcast to watch some of your famous celebrities thrive, survive, and possibly win this year's award.”

“Do remember - the Citizens have veto power. You can revive your chosen hero or heroine as long as the majority decides to keep the contestant. Voting rights are awarded to the citizens who spend the most money to sponsor their favorites.”

“Nazians, anticipate!” Following her last words, a thriller of the survival game came on show. Featuring the past contestants, chosen contestants, and the setting of [Millo's Healer].

Centuries ago, a great City called Millo, built and guarded by a legendary Emperor, fell at the curse of its immorality. The people turned away from their righteous walk, blinded by the luxuries and treasures of the world. Millo- which once housed a lawful domain, became a City for the unlawful.

Vassal territories rebelled, and conquered Millo. Lost in lust, Millo could no longer guard its grounds. The City fell into an era of chaos, desolation, and despair.

Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath and Slothfulness rules Millo.

Can you, Millo's newest Lord restore this ancient City? Will you be the Victor... or the Vanquished?

The scene showcasing Millo's prosperity, fall and the City Lords ended with the question. I froze for a second, pondering deeply.

I... seem to have a chance. If, if I join- however risky it may be, it's not like I would live if I didn't join.... so... if I join the contest, there is a possibility I will survive. I might not win, but it is entirely possible to get a healing pill, an elixir, or artifact- anything, that will sustain me.

I will join.

Maybe it's not time to die yet....

I reached out for my outdated smartphone, which laid on the bedside table. I grabbed the phone and browsed through the application website. Ignoring my furiously beating heart, the voices of uncertainty, and the whispers of death, I signed up for the competition.

'Millo's Healer'- A survival game with a mortality rate ranging from 70% to 99.9%.

Well, it's not a hundred is it? I will 100% die in the next few days. This seems a bit better.

But... will I be accepted? Never thought a day would come where I'd wish to be accepted in this hellish competition. But the death report extinguished my flames of hope.

Please... let me be chosen. I don't want to die this way. 

Please.

819. April 1, 2024.