That moment was the worst Chen had ever felt. He simply sat beside Skyy, helping him wipe away the sweat that kept gathering across his forehead. Skyy's face had already gone deathly pale, with only a faint blush of color remaining in his cheeks, and the wound on his arm didn't look any better. The black veins had begun spreading slowly from the bite, crawling across his skin and making their way toward his shoulder.
Chen knew what those signs meant.
They were all telltale signs that the virus was beginning to take over the body.
He knew it. He had seen it before and knew exactly what would happen next. Yet even with all that knowledge, he couldn't stop the small part of his heart that desperately hoped Skyy would somehow be different. Maybe he would survive the night. Maybe his body would fight against the virus and he would wake up the next morning completely fine, perhaps even with some kind of powerful ability awakened inside him.
Maybe.
But hoping alone was useless.
