Max's consciousness flickered as he lay strapped to the cold metal table. The harsh light above seared his eyes, but he refused to close them, glaring at the cloaked figure who loomed over him. His wrists and ankles strained against the restraints, but they held firm, leaving him powerless.
The cloaked figure stepped closer, their voice calm and clinical. "E-3183, the first pureblood vampire specimen we've acquired in decades. You should be honored."
Max smirked despite his position. "Honored? Right. This is exactly how I imagined my second life would go." But then Max thought. '`It`s neither my second life nor third, it`s like second and half.'
The figure ignored his sarcasm, turning to the shelves where an array of vials and instruments glinted under the harsh light. They selected a syringe filled with a dark red liquid, holding it up to the light. "Your kind is extraordinarily rare in these lands. Do you know why?"
Max didn't answer, but his crimson eyes followed the syringe warily.
"Because your blood is… special," they continued, their tone almost reverent. "Pureblood vampires possess regenerative properties and magical affinities that most creatures can only dream of. However, they also have a flaw: they rarely survive long in environments like ours."
"Well, isn't that comforting," Max muttered, his fingers curling into fists. `So they think I'll just keel over?`
The figure chuckled softly, their gloved hand brushing against his forearm as they inserted the needle. "Don't worry. If you die, your contributions to our research will still be invaluable."
Max winced as the syringe pierced his skin, drawing a vial of his blood. The red liquid swirled inside the glass, darker than any blood he'd seen before. The figure handed it to an assistant, who immediately began analyzing it under a set of strange devices. Max's eyes narrowed as he studied the room. Assistants in lab coats moved with precision, monitoring glowing runes etched into the walls and adjusting levers on metallic apparatuses.
The cloaked figure returned, this time with a scalpel. "Your regenerative abilities should make this next part interesting. Let's see how far they go."
Before Max could react, they dragged the blade across his forearm. He hissed in pain as blood welled up, but the wound began closing almost immediately. The assistants murmured excitedly, jotting down notes as the skin knitted itself back together in seconds.
"Fascinating," the figure said, tilting their head. "The rate of healing is faster than anticipated. A pure specimen indeed. Maybe even better, but for this we should provide more tests."
Max gritted his teeth. "Glad to impress."
The figure ignored him, turning back to the assistants. "Prepare the next injection."
One of the assistants approached with another syringe, this one filled with a glowing blue substance. Max's instincts screamed at him, but the restraints left him helpless as they injected the liquid into his vein. A burning sensation spread through his arm, searing its way into his chest.
"What the hell is that?" Max growled, his body arching against the table.
The cloaked figure watched intently. "A stabilizing agent. We're testing how your body reacts to various enhancements. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe… for now."
Max's vision blurred as the burning sensation turned to numbness. His heart raced, the sound thundering in his ears. He felt his muscles twitch involuntarily, his body rebelling against the foreign substance. The assistants moved quickly, attaching wires to his chest and arms, monitoring every fluctuation.
"Heart rate elevated," one assistant reported. "Muscle activity spiking. No signs of rejection yet."
"Increase the dosage," the cloaked figure ordered.
Another syringe was prepared, this one containing a shimmering golden liquid. Max's vision cleared just enough to see it before it plunged into his arm. The effect was immediate. His body convulsed, pain wracking every nerve. He clenched his jaw, refusing to cry out, but a low growl escaped his throat.
"Incredible," the figure murmured. "The resilience of a pureblood is truly unmatched."
Max's mind raced, his thoughts muddled by the pain. 'I have to endure this... for now. Find a way out. They're underestimating me.'
The convulsions subsided after what felt like an eternity. Max lay limp on the table, his breaths shallow but steady. Sweat slicked his pale skin, and his crimson eyes burned with barely restrained fury.
The figure leaned over him. "You're doing well, E-3183. Your survival so far is impressive."
"Go to hell," Max spat, his voice hoarse.
The figure only chuckled, signaling to the assistants. "Take samples of his tissue. I want a full analysis of his cellular structure."
The assistants moved quickly, extracting small samples from various parts of Max's body. The pain was sharp but fleeting, his regeneration dulling the worst of it. He bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
Finally, the figure approached with a final syringe, its contents a swirling black liquid.
"What's that?" Max demanded, his voice wavering.
The figure's voice was almost gleeful. "Something to help you rest. You've earned it, little vampire."
Max's instincts screamed at him again, but there was nothing he could do. The syringe plunged into his neck, and a cold numbness spread through his body. His vision darkened, and the last thing he heard was the cloaked figure's voice, soft and distant.
"Sleep well, E-3183. Tomorrow, we'll push you even further."
Darkness consumed him.
...
Hours later, Max stirred faintly, his mind trapped in a fog. He was still strapped to the table, though the room was eerily quiet. The harsh lights had dimmed, casting long shadows across the walls. His body ached in ways he didn't think possible, every nerve tingling with residual pain from the experiments.
A faint sound reached his ears—the soft clinking of glass and hurried whispers. He forced his eyes open, catching sight of two assistants in a corner, their backs turned as they argued in hushed tones.
"We've never seen readings like this before," one said, clutching a clipboard. "If we push him too hard, he'll break."
The other shook their head. "That's not our call. The directive is clear: test until failure."
Max's jaw tightened. 'Test until failure? Not if I have anything to say about it.'