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The reason Akio was far more terrifying than Medea wasn't because his knowledge was deeper.
It was simply because he outclassed her in raw power.
Using the same spells, Medea could summon dozens of magic bullets at will. Akio could unleash hundreds—thousands, even.
Medea could call forth an army of dragon-tooth soldiers numbering in the hundreds. Akio could summon them in the thousands, tens of thousands.
That was what made him truly terrifying.
And while Medea had to carefully prepare before casting her high-level magic, Akio could fire them off casually, without so much as a thought.
That was what made him terrifying.
Through his study of magecraft, Akio's control over his power had reached staggering precision. He was no longer the brute who only relied on raw strength to smash his way through battles. His mastery had become refined, intricate, almost surgical.
But his greatest growth wasn't in magic at all. It was in the relationship he'd built with Medea.
The two of them had spent six months together inside the Radiant Dimension—teaching, learning, living side by side every day. Their bond had grown rapidly; it would've been strange if it hadn't.
Sure, they hadn't broken through that last fragile barrier between them.
But Akio knew. He could see it in her eyes—she already had him in her heart.
He also knew, if he really wanted to, he could trick Medea into his bed any time.
But he didn't. Because Akio understood himself too well. Medea would never be his only woman.
Until she fully accepted his ambition, he had no intention of "conquering" her completely.
Instead, he would take his time, boiling the frog slowly in warm water, letting her accept it step by step.
And if she couldn't? Then fine. They could just remain BOSS and subordinate.
Medea understood this too—that's why she hadn't forced the issue either. Both of them left it unspoken, saving it for later.
Back in the real world, Akio sought out Hohenheim."So," he asked, "any progress on developing an antibody or cure for the Blacklight Virus?"
Hohenheim shook his head. "I only just came into contact with it today. I don't have a clear direction yet—I'll need time to study it."
"How long?"
"Years. Possibly several."
Akio thought for a moment. "I can send you into my dimension and adjust the time flow. One hour here would be a year there. But won't you get lonely, being on your own?"
Hohenheim smiled. "The Hall of Heroes isn't exactly lively either. Solitude doesn't bother me. Honestly, having such an intriguing virus for company excites me."
Akio could see he wasn't lying. The man's eyes sparkled with eagerness.
"Good."
With a nod, Akio transported Hohenheim, the Blacklight Virus, and all the related data and equipment into his Radiant Dimension. Quietly, he tweaked the timeflow.
An hour later, Hohenheim had already spent a year inside. His research leapt forward.
Two hours in, two years had passed. Progress slowed; the work hit a bottleneck.
Three hours in—three years for Hohenheim. Progress dragged, incremental at best.
Hours slipped by in the outside world. Inside, Hohenheim toiled away year after year, trying countless methods. Akio visited from time to time, offering guidance where he could.
By the time dawn broke in the real world, Hohenheim had lived more than a decade in the Radiant Dimension.
And in that decade, he transformed. The alchemist had become a true virologist. His understanding of the Blacklight Virus reached an unbelievable depth.
He even designed several new strains based on it.
To put it bluntly, Hohenheim had mastered the Blacklight Virus completely. Antibodies? Done. A cure? Developed, mass-produced.
But that wasn't what thrilled Akio most.
What thrilled him most was the perfected form Hohenheim created—something beyond the virus itself.
The Blacklight Serum.
Anyone who took it would live for around three hundred years, gaining a kind of pseudo-immortality.
What did that mean? Even if your head was cut off, you could reattach it. If your heart was destroyed, a new one would regenerate.
But total annihilation—obliteration of the body—would still kill you. That was why it was only pseudo-immortality.
True immortality was conceptual. Even if your body burned to ash, you'd come back. The serum wasn't that.
Still, the Blacklight Serum granted something else—assimilation. It could absorb and neutralize other viruses. Take it, and no infection could harm you. Vampire virus, primordial virus—it didn't matter. They'd all be consumed, turned into nourishment.
Poison immunity, built in.
The drawback? Production was limited. It could never be mass-distributed.
Because its core ingredient was… Akio's cells.
As he'd said before, aside from being a dimensional god, Akio's body was that of a semi-immortal—capable of dying and reviving. By fusing his cells with the Blacklight Virus, Hohenheim had created this powerful serum.
Which meant it could never be manufactured on a large scale. At best, Akio could treat it as a special perk, a gift for his most loyal followers.
Not that they really needed it. His Light was far stronger than any serum. Anything the Blacklight Serum could do, his power could do better.
But giving it to followers as currency—for bargaining, for recruitment—that had value.
His current disciples weren't ambitious types, but ambition could be nurtured. And in the future, he might take in more ambitious ones.
For both cultivating subordinates and winning allies, the Blacklight Serum was perfect.
Naturally, Akio rewarded Hohenheim generously. With a surge of radiant power, he strengthened the man's body, granting him a permanent upgrade.
"..."
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