[Dr. Stylish's Perspective]
The hum of machinery enveloped me, a constant reminder of the empire of science I had built.
Around me, the air was dense with the mingling scents of various serums, each distinct, alive with promise, each a reflection of my genius.
My gaze wandered across the lab, taking in the tools of my trade, and I found myself drawn into the labyrinth of my thoughts.
'Five years... has it really been that long?'
These past years had been a whirlwind of relentless effort. Every waking moment was devoted to unlocking the mysteries of Hydra's blood cells and DNA.
Hundreds of test subjects had been sacrificed in the pursuit of progress. 'Exploded, dissolved, mutated...' The results were a grotesque catalog of failures. Only one had survived.
'The boy. My greatest triumph... and my greatest mistake.'
I should have collected his blood before the transformation.
How could I have known that the beaten, half-dead peasant dragged into my lab was so extraordinary?
'Who would have thought someone so insignificant would emerge as the perfect specimen?'
Now, I could only speculate about the secrets locked in his original blood, the key to harnessing a Danger Beast's power without becoming one.
'A human weapon, more powerful than a Teigu, without the drawbacks of insanity or corruption.'
My thoughts turned to the Frost Demon's Extract, a product of ancient brilliance.
The extract granted immense power, but its cost, madness, made it a forbidden relic.
Hydra's regenerative essence, while less volatile, held immense potential. But my work paled compared to the genius of the empire's first scientists.
'The First Emperor destroyed their technology for a reason. To maintain control, to hoard the secrets of the forty-eight Teigu. And yet... I will surpass them.'
---
As much as I hated to admit it, my ambitions had been stymied by my short-sightedness. I'd heard whispers of a natural hybrid, someone born of human and Danger Beast blood.
My investigation led to a cult, The Path of Peace, spreading in the Empire's eastern territories. Its enigmatic leader reportedly performed miracles, healing wounds and foreseeing the future. 'Too convenient. Such abilities scream Danger Beast.'
I dispatched my subordinates to secure blood samples and enlisted Honest's elite team for added insurance. 'My 'gaydar' tells me there's something... unnatural about that leader. Could he be the key to replicating what I've lost with the boy?'
The regret lingered. If I'd collected the boy's blood earlier, I wouldn't need to chase shadows. 'The specimen's blood is now hopelessly contaminated by Hydra's essence. Foolish. So foolish.'
I shook my head. 'No point dwelling on it now. Spilled milk and all that.'
---
My thoughts shifted to another of my triumphs—the small, blood-red pill resting on my workbench. Its golden-edged sheen caught the sterile light of the lab.
'Ten pills. Hyper-regenerative miracles.' Years of grueling effort had led to their creation, each capable of saving someone from the brink of death.
Yet the cost was steep. Each pill required liters of the boy's blood, and his health was failing faster than I had anticipated.
'How ironic. A creation meant to defy death is killing its own creator.'
---
I entered the lab chamber, illuminating the tank that held my precious specimen.
There he was, suspended in the dim green liquid, his sedated form riddled with the marks of his transformation.
Tubes and cables siphoned his blood, a grotesque ballet of extraction. His bald head was mottled with angry red spots, his once-bright eyes dull and closed.
But his hands... smooth, pale, untouched.
'Why haven't they mutated? And his voice... that damned voice.'
Even after years of analysis, I couldn't unravel the mysteries of his transformation. 'His hands are human. His vocal cords transformed into something... divine. Why? Why are only these anomalies in a body so otherwise grotesque?'
The calculations I had made once estimated his lifespan at fifteen years.
But now, his condition deteriorated with each passing day. The blood extractions slowed, his body barely clinging to life despite the nutrients I provided.
'Is it his will to survive that's waning? Perhaps my response about his parents was... ill-advised.'
I recalled that moment clearly. His shattered silence after I revealed their deaths. At the time, it seemed insignificant.
But now... 'I underestimated the psychological toll. Hope, even false hope, might have kept him alive longer. My words broke something vital in him.'
'Humph, useless emotions.' I thought.
Still, what was done was done. 'I can't undo the past. I need his blood, whether he survives or not. Honest's demands won't wait, and the Empire has no patience for failure.'
---
I turned off the lights in the lab chamber, leaving the boy's form swallowed by shadows. As I walked back to my workstation, I resolved to press forward.
'Regrets are for the weak. The boy is a tool. A stepping stone. My greatness will not be defined by his survival, but by what I create from his sacrifice.'