THE DIMENSIONAL MERCHANT-Chapter 88 - 87: The Hollowing

Few days ago — Mangort City – Marquis’s Palace

It was located near the Gelan River that flows through Mangort City. A luxurious palace that was spread over an area of about 50 acres. It was built in such a way that it could be seen from several miles away.

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Inside a richly adorned chamber, a woman lay on a canopied bed, her form barely visible under layers of fine cloth. The torches on the wall flickered with low light, casting deep shadows on the stone walls. Her breathing was shallow. Sweat dampened her brow. Most chilling of all, her skin was marked with grotesque round holes—open, raw circles that dotted her arms and neck. They were not wounds or scars, but hollow cavities, as if something had burrowed into her and never left.

Even the bravest maids could no longer bring themselves to clean her. Three stood now at the back of the room, hands clasped tight, eyes cast downward in dread.

It was not just a matter of illness—it was something the human eye wasn’t meant to bear for long.

Beside the bed, a man dressed in deep green robes adjusted a small vial, tilting its contents onto a strip of cloth. He wore a polished jade medallion over his heart—the sign of a Jade Medicant, one of the most respected people in the kingdom.

He turned to the Marquis, who stood with clenched fists.

"I have given her several medicines," the Jade Medicant said in a soft voice. "Her fever has lowered, and I’ve soothed the pain. But... I cannot guarantee she will be cured."

The Marquis’s jaw tightened. He was a tall man, thick with years of discipline, his face worn with fatigue and worry.

"You still don’t know what it is?" he asked, voice low.

The Jade Medicant exhaled through his nose, eyes focused on the woman’s pale arm.

"I’ve seen many strange afflictions in my life, my lord. I have treated her three times already, tried five different courses of treatment, and consulted every scroll in our archives. This..." He shook his head. "This is unlike anything I’ve encountered. We once called something similar Hollow Vein Syndrome in the far North, but that illness was slower, and always accompanied by fever. This is different. More aggressive. More deliberate."

The Marquis said nothing.

"The holes spread, but they do not bleed. Her blood doesn’t clot around them. Magic yields no response. Spirit remedies, healing chants, even blood purification rituals—none of it slows the decay. It’s as if her body is being hollowed out from within, not by poison or spell, but by something... missing."

"And there’s no way to stop it?" the Marquis asked.

"I can only delay it," the Medicant said grimly. "Her pulse weakens by the day. Her spirit energy is still present, but it flickers. I’ve done all I can to buy time. No known cure exists."

He hesitated, then lowered his voice further, almost reluctant to speak.

"There is... perhaps... only the Saint of the Helios Empire might know what to do."

There was a long silence.

Then another person opened his mouth. He was younger brother of the Marquis—Count Marek Matgorat.

"I’ve heard of her too," he said grimly. "They call her the Child of the Heavens. Some say she can cure what defies all medicine and magic. That even the dying rise from her touch. But... I doubt she would leave the Empire. Let alone come here."

The Medicant gave a faint nod. "Even sending a petition would take months, if not years. And the Helios court rarely answers foreign calls, not unless you carry a royal seal."

He paused again, voice quiet.

"And even if we abandoned that path—there’s Sky City. Some say their scholars work with forbidden magic and lost alchemies far beyond what we understand. But that city... it floats above the Storm Range, in the heart of the Middle Continent. No one enters without invitation—and no invitation ever comes."

The Marquis’s brow furrowed. He turned his eyes to his wife’s unmoving form, her shallow breaths rasping through pale lips.

The Jade Medicant lowered his head. "I’ve done all I can. I will leave now to prepare more suppressants. But I must be honest. She does not have much time."

He bowed deeply and left the room with his attendants.

The chamber remained silent.

Count Marek looked at the servants and told them to leave.

They obeyed without hesitation, bowing quickly as they departed.

After that Marek turned and approached his brother.

"Brother, You must accept the truth," Marek said quietly. "She will not recover."

The Marquis did not turn. His gaze remained fixed on his wife’s frail form, her breathing shallow, her skin marked with hollow, grotesque wounds.

"She is still breathing. I will not give up while there is still breath."

Marek’s voice tightened. "And what would you do? Wait for the gods to descend? For some miracle to drift in through the window?"

The Marquis’s expression didn’t change.

"Do you remember the old stories? The tales of the Legendary Witch?"

The Count scoffed. "Don’t tell me you trust folk tales now? You’re the Marquis of the Western Reach, not a child. That tale’s centuries old. Even if she ever lived—which I doubt—she’s long since turned to dust."

"No. She is not dead. They are not human like us that they would die so quickly. There is still a witch living in the Blackroot Forest."

Marek narrowed his eyes. "Where are you getting this from?"

"Our grandfather’s journal. I found it years ago in the family archives." He opened it, flipping to a marked page. "At the time, I thought it was just rambling. But now..." He looked up. "Now it’s the only lead I have."

He laid the book down, turning the page toward his brother. "He wrote of strange magic. Of a woman in the Blackroot Forest. That she healed people on the brink of death. That beasts answered her. That wounds closed by her touch."

There was a long pause.

"...You believe she can do what even the Jade Medicant could not?" the Count asked, more serious now.

"I don’t know." The Marquis stepped back to the bedside, placing a gloved hand gently atop his wife’s—unafraid of the hollow pits scarring her flesh.

"But I believe she might. And right now, that belief... that hope... is all I have left."

"We’ve exhausted what the kingdom’s finest can offer. The capital would take weeks to respond. The Saint of Helios would take months. My wife doesn’t have that time."

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