Urgh. No antidotes, no way of treating me for my affliction... why is my own roleplay cruel to me?
Well. Chances are, the boss might drop something that can help me. Instead of falling down and proclaiming how I can't go on, I set my sword on fire as I swung it towards the giant ghost. I was lucky not to burn myself, despite coating my sword in flammable slime as I threw it. Or even let go of my sword since I was pretty poisoned.
An episode of hallucination later, I realised my sword was never actually on fire. Although, Robert's lightning did set it on fire in the end, so it wasn't that bad. God damn it... when can I concentrate? It turned out I had also ripped the sword apart from myself, turning it into a dangerous flaming projectile. I didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing, but it was probably better than melting and losing bits of your tail. I rubbed my head as I began running, trying to pick up the now-extinguished sword which wasn't too far from the boss. I might have been suicidal, but I really did not expect to live any longer anyway.