Helios stood in his laboratory, working on the documentation for the remedy he had finished the previous night. It had taken a bit of time, but it was finally complete. Now, only practical tests would show how effective it truly was. And as luck would have it, he had more than just one test subject to evaluate its efficacy, duration, and stability. He had several.
He had created a hemostatic agent. It had actually been a fairly simple project that he had completed quickly – but it was probably the most useful of his recent developments for himself. Especially when he thought about the scrapes he had accumulated over the past two days.
Everything hurt. His nonexistent muscles were tense, the multitude of small wounds burned unpleasantly, and he didn't even want to think about the bruises. Thomas had almost fainted when he helped him get dressed that morning.
Helios grinned at the memory. Thomas had been completely speechless. Afterward, he had ranted about the guards who had allowed Helios to end up in such a state, and finally, he had resigned himself to continue working on Helios' outward appearance.
Not that Helios had paid him much attention – he was useless in the morning. Besides, he had stayed up late the previous night after they had returned home. After all, there were several private projects he was working on, and his mind never really seemed to rest. If he was going to be awake anyway, he might as well work.
He let his gaze wander over the notes and cursed softly. No one would be able to read this mess. With a sigh, he set the papers aside and began to write everything down clearly and systematically from memory. It wasn't difficult – he remembered every detail anyway. He mainly took notes to be able to reconstruct the process later. Additionally, those who would use the recipe after him needed a detailed guide to produce the remedy correctly.
Alchemy, after all, was like cooking – even the best recipes only worked if followed precisely.
Helios hated having to document everything so meticulously, but he hated it even more when others made stupid mistakes trying to replicate his work. So, he wrote each recipe in such detail that even the biggest idiot could follow it. Just because he could recall every step from memory at any time didn't mean others could.
He had learned early on that his brain worked differently from most people. Even as a child, he had been called a genius. They praised him while simultaneously demanding the nearly impossible from him. Or should he rather say that the expectations placed on him had only become more extreme with each success?
How often had he heard what a genius should be capable of and how remarkable it was that he mastered every challenge with flying colors? In the past, he had even enjoyed tackling new tasks and testing his limits. But by now, he preferred to focus on things that genuinely interested him – well, and on the tasks his father asked him to do.
Like mixing medicines and potions.
He sighed and let his pen rest for a moment. His father would surely be thrilled if this hemostatic agent became ready for mass production. A practical remedy that could revolutionize wound care – and, more importantly, would be lucrative for the family business. However, Helios himself was less interested in the profit than in the possibilities arising from his research.
And if he was honest, his fingers were already itching to tackle the next project.
He leaned back in his chair, stretched his aching limbs, and felt his mind start working again. New ideas flickered through his consciousness – chaotic, incomplete, but full of potential.
A muscle stimulator. A cell activator. A pain suppressant. So many approaches, so little time.
He smiled. One thing was certain: he would never be bored.
It was, in a way, a truly satisfying feeling to conquer diseases with his own remedies – diseases that many doctors had deemed fatal.
So far, he had cured every "incurable" illness. He wasn't called a genius for nothing, after all.
You just had to understand how the diseases worked, and then you could start creating the appropriate remedy. He glanced at the stack of papers his father had given him. He was definitely tempted to dive into the research, but everything in due time. First, he had to finish his own paperwork.
So, he wrote everything down. At some point, he became so engrossed in his work that he completely lost track of time. He didn't notice who had entered the lab or what was happening around him. Only a very select few had access anyway: himself, his father, Thomas, and Davis.
No one else was needed.
He handled many sensitive substances that could cause various reactions if mixed incorrectly. Some compounds could even trigger explosions when combined.
In any case, those three were the only people he trusted, and they were guaranteed not to tamper with what he was brewing.
When he finally finished his documentation, he stretched thoroughly. His back ached from sitting for so long, and he felt years older. Helios yawned and finally noticed a slightly steaming cup of coffee with some pastries on his desk.
Apparently, Thomas had been by in the meantime to bring him his next dose of caffeine.
Helios smiled faintly. He could always count on Thomas. He didn't need a snack, but coffee was always welcome. He pulled the cup closer and started to read through what he had documented once again. After the first sip of coffee, he closed his eyes briefly and sighed.
The coffee Thomas made was simply divine.
He hoped to enjoy it for a long time to come.
He was just about to set the coffee cup down when he noticed a small note in Thomas's handwriting on the tray.
"I'll pick up the tray at 3 p.m. You better have eaten the muffins by then."
Helios rolled his eyes and took a bite of one of the muffins before continuing to read through his documents. He put the muffin back down. He didn't particularly like sweets, and Thomas knew that perfectly well. Yet, he always brought him a selection of everything, hoping to stimulate Helios's appetite and sneak a few extra calories into him.
Helios believed that the body didn't need much, and he provided himself with the essentials every day. Beyond that, he required nothing. After all, he was either in the lab or at home, and when he became fixated on something, eating became a secondary concern.
He glanced at the muffin again and sighed. Thomas was always so thoughtful. The least he could do was eat half of it. The brain needed a bit of sugar to function properly – coffee alone, unfortunately, wasn't enough.
He picked up his documents again and read through the rest.
It should be easy enough to understand. Deciding that the documentation was sufficient, he stapled the papers together, then grabbed the vial of the hemostatic agent and retrieved a container of ointment base. This made it easier to apply and spread. He had tested the efficacy on himself and had already perfected the mixing ratio.
He carefully blended everything together, following the notes he had documented meticulously. He poured the finished product into several small ointment tins, which he slipped into the pockets of his lab coat. One for each of his current guards, his father, Thomas – and, of course, himself. His test subjects and experiments.
To be fair, it was a harmless remedy that simply accelerated blood clotting and was theoretically useful to everyone. At least in principle. With the guards, he wasn't so sure – they usually died from their injuries before a hemostatic agent could do anything. And it wouldn't help with major wounds anyway. But for smaller injuries, it was certainly practical.
Especially for himself. Getting protected constantly left him with minor injuries. He had long since developed anti-swelling agents after sustaining bruises or overstretching his ligaments more than once. Now, he also had an effective blood stopper.
Fortunately, despite all his injuries, he had always remained capable of working – and, to be honest, being confined to bed would be far too boring. That would be a situation worse than any wound or aching limbs.
He placed the documents neatly on the table and set the tins for Thomas and his father on top. That reminded him he had only eaten half of the three muffins. Helios grimaced. Those sweet things simply weren't to his taste – but he had even less desire to argue with Thomas about it.
So, he had to get rid of them. And luckily, he already had a plan to carry out this perfect crime.
With a quiet sigh, he stepped to the door connecting his lab to the main corridor and opened it. The light in the hallway was much brighter than the dim half-light of his office. He squinted. Working at night was so much more pleasant – no distracting questions, no interruptions, and no glaring light.
His gaze fell on the two muscle-bound figures who called themselves his "guards." He recognized Davis immediately – the only one who had survived by his side for more than a year. And the new guy? His name escaped him. Not that it mattered – he probably wouldn't last long anyway.
Guards came and went. Mortality was almost a given in their profession. Only Davis had proven himself. Maybe that was why he was one of the few people Helios considered worth remembering by name. But in the end, it was probably only a matter of time before even he made the inevitable mistake.
Davis noticed him first and turned to face him. "Going somewhere?" His voice was polite, almost respectful – although Helios knew exactly how often he had already dropped the formal address.
"No, I don't plan on going anywhere," Helios replied with a slight smile and a glance at his watch. "However, I think you could use a break. Thomas should be here soon – maybe he'll bring you something refreshing."
Davis gave him that particular look – the one that revealed he knew exactly what Helios was up to. Helios shook his head slightly. The new guy didn't need to know.
Without another word, he returned to the lab while his thoughts were already moving ahead. To new formulas. New experiments.
His guards followed him silently, and the door closed softly behind them.
The new guy looked around Helios' lab in awe. He said nothing, but Helios could clearly sense his curiosity – it radiated from every fiber of his being.
"If you have any questions, just ask," Helios said as he walked to his desk, where the two and a half muffins still waited to finally be eaten.
"What is all this?" the new guy asked while inspecting the shelves.
"Plants, animal and human organs, blood samples, minerals," Helios listed. "If I were you, I'd be careful. Everything here is in its purest form – and quite a few of them are highly toxic."
A glance at the clock made the situation more urgent – Thomas would be back in exactly five minutes.
And Thomas was nothing if not punctual. If he said he'd be back at 3 PM, he would walk through the door practically on the dot. His perfect timing was one of the many fruits of his years of service as the Vale family butler. It was almost eerie.
Helios forced himself to adopt a friendly and benevolent smile as he turned to his guards. He left the half-eaten muffin sitting on the plate in a deliberately conspicuous manner – maybe one of them would eat the pathetic remainder he couldn't stomach himself.
"You should try them. The muffins are quite… good," he lied, lifting the plate slightly to emphasize his words. In truth, the muffins came from a well-known bakery in town – their quality was undisputed. They were simply far too sweet for Helios' taste.
Davis raised an eyebrow at him, while the new guy held up a hand in polite refusal. "They look pretty heavy."
"You'll barely notice the calories," Helios replied dryly, setting the plate back down on the table. "You should eat them before Thomas returns – he had to wait in line for quite a while."
With that, he turned away, grabbed the first folder from the stack his father had left on his desk, and skimmed the first few pages. A crooked grin crept onto his face.
At least this time, it was an interesting case.
His assignment: to develop an agent that could reactivate inactive muscle cells. Fortunately, the target group wasn't muscle-bound guards like Davis or the new guy – but people whose musculature gradually shut down until the patient died a slow, agonizing death by asphyxiation.
A rare, cruel disease – and exactly the kind of challenge Helios found intriguing. For his father, it was probably just another project that would generate a fortune. Money Helios couldn't care less about. His interest lay solely in the scientific challenge – even though he already knew that developing an effective remedy would take a great deal of time.
"They're really not bad – are you sure you don't want to finish your muffin?" Davis asked, eyeing him curiously.
Helios waved him off without looking up. His gaze remained fixed on the lines as he turned the next page. His mind was already racing – possible formulas, test series, potential solutions.
Page by page, he worked his way through the files until he perceived nothing but the words on the paper. His father had compiled an astonishing number of cases – the patients were scattered across the entire country, which must have made the research tedious. Helios was impressed, though he would never let it show.
At the edge of his awareness, he noticed someone handing him a cup of coffee. But he did not look up – he was too engrossed in what lay before him. His mind was already on the next idea, the next experiment, and the question of how long it would take until he found the solution.
This muscle inactivity condition caused the affected person to remain bedridden for a prolonged period before eventually dying of respiratory depression. Initially, they lost the ability to walk, followed by the inability to eat and drink independently. Soon after, they lost control over their continence, and finally, the internal organs became affected.
A few fortunate ones died of heart muscle failure, causing their hearts to simply stop beating.
By the time he reached the last page of the documents, he had read several lab results and autopsy reports. A photograph slipped out of the stack, showing a young woman who was apparently currently afflicted with the disease.
She seemed to come from a good family – the sheltered daughter of concerned, wealthy parents. Helios sighed. According to the report, she had been unable to walk for three days. She had fallen ill rather early.
He would have no choice but to visit her the next day and examine her himself. Thomas would have to arrange the meeting.
Helios set the papers aside and noticed the empty coffee cup he was holding. Apparently, Thomas had been in the lab and handed him a fresh cup. Helios placed the empty cup down and stretched thoroughly. He had been standing in the middle of the room – seemingly so absorbed that he had paced while reading. His guards were nowhere to be seen; they had apparently left the room again.
He examined the substances he had on hand – in powdered form, as whole plants, or as concentrated extracts. Every substance – regardless of its processing stage – was deadly in its raw form. The dose made the poison.
He had several substances he could mix to begin testing, and he already had an idea of which ones to use based on their effects. The plant-based compounds, in particular, offered a range of options that could interact with the muscles.
But he would still need to find something to stabilize the formula and determine a suitable dosage that would allow for long-term use—especially without harming the patient.
It would be a truly tricky task. After all, the human body did not rely on just one muscle for movement, and not all muscles were visible to the naked eye. For instance, the heart muscle or other musculature responsible for maintaining organ function and ensuring a healthy circulatory system.
Perhaps he could start with a harmless tonic—something that increased the body's performance, like a kind of stimulant. Helios had brewed one for himself once when he had been completely buried in a project.
Thanks to the tonic, he had spent three whole days in the lab. Nonstop. Without rest. It had pushed his body to the brink of collapse, but it had been undeniably effective.
He hadn't used that tonic since because it had taken him a week to recover afterward. His goal was to work continuously—days of rest simply did not fit into his plans.
If he weakened the formula, perhaps the tonic would last only a few hours instead of several days—just long enough to stabilize bodily functions without risking a total breakdown.
He lifted the empty coffee cup and gazed at it thoughtfully. The tonic would need to work similarly to coffee: a brief energy boost that sustained the body without overburdening or exhausting it.
The approach was actually promising. Instead of attempting to cure the young woman's disease—a process that could take months or even years—he could develop a remedy that stabilized her bodily functions. Regular doses would buy her more time and slow down the progressive decay.
The basis of his earlier formula had been caffeine. If he recalled correctly, he had used guarana—a plant with a particularly high caffeine content. Unfortunately, it had to be imported, but coffee beans and the coffee plant itself were readily available. While the caffeine concentration was lower, it would be sufficient for the initial experiments.
He walked to the door and grabbed Davis' shoulder just as it opened. The guard flinched slightly but quickly regained his composure.
"What can I do for you?" Davis asked politely.
"Tell Thomas to bring me two kilograms of coffee beans. Immediately," Helios replied curtly and returned to his lab without further explanation.
While he waited for the delivery, his idea grew more concrete. He would not only develop a tonic to stabilize the patient—with a bit of luck, he could also design a stronger muscle-stimulating agent. Both could prove useful not only in this case but for future projects as well.
He prepared his workstation. With practiced precision, he assembled the distillation apparatus, checked the tubing, and ensured that all containers were sterilized. Everything was ready before Thomas returned.
Additionally, he cleared his desk and arranged a selection of ingredients he could potentially use for the muscle-stimulating agent. Each substance was carefully labeled—most of them were dangerous in their pure form if not dosed with exacting precision.
When Thomas finally brought the coffee beans, he paused briefly. "Your father expects you for dinner later," he announced in his usual neutral tone.
Helios only nodded absentmindedly and immediately set the distillation apparatus in motion. As the first drops of caffeine slowly condensed, he grabbed a notepad and began recording his thoughts. Every step, every consideration moved from his mind to paper—a habit that helped him organize his chaotic ideas.
In between, he mixed several base substances—plant extracts and stabilizing solutions—that he intended to combine with the distilled caffeine later.
At the same time, he revisited the laboratory results. He carefully reread each case, comparing the progression of the disease and paying close attention to common patterns. His gaze frequently drifted to the distillation apparatus, where a clear, caffeine-rich liquid was slowly dripping into a collection vessel.
When the first container was full, he swapped it out with practiced ease and placed a new one underneath.
He poured the rest of the distilled liquid into a small, dark brown glass bottle, which he sealed with a cork. In neat handwriting, he labeled the vial and placed it carefully among the other ingredients on his desk.
For a first attempt, it wasn't bad. But this was only the beginning. Helios' gaze returned to the documents—his mind already working on the next formula.
At some point, Helios rubbed his tired eyes. It had to be ridiculously late, and once again, he had barely eaten all day. By evening, his appetite usually made itself known—and right on cue, his stomach growled.
A glance at the clock revealed that it was already past 8 p.m.—later than he had expected. No wonder his body was protesting.
His eyes fell on the tonic he had just finished. Testing it tonight made little sense—it was only a preliminary draft. He still lacked several essential ingredients, and so far, he had only a vague idea of how to assemble the final medication.
He needed a clear plan. Several intermediate steps, each building toward the ultimate goal: a remedy that reactivated inactive muscle cells. Perhaps the best approach was to break the process down into three phases—a preparation to stimulate muscle growth, another to enhance muscle strength, and finally, the actual solution to halt degeneration and restore cellular activity.
Fortunately, there were plenty of test subjects available at the estate—his guards. The muscle-bound brutes who spent their free time engaging in excessive training would be perfect for the initial trials. Helios was convinced: if it worked on them, he was on the right track.
Carefully, he poured the tonic into a small vial and tucked it into his case. The rest of the extracted solution was sealed and placed alongside the other ingredients on his desk. With one last glance around the lab, he switched off the distillation apparatus and checked the remaining equipment. The thought of his laboratory going up in flames while he was away was far from appealing.
Satisfied, he exchanged his lab coat for his overcoat. He grabbed the small ointment tins he had prepared and slipped them into the deep pockets of his coat.
With the case - that was never left behind - in his hand, Helios left the laboratory. The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Davis looked at him in surprise. "I was starting to think we'd have to drag you out by force."
Helios smirked. "Actually, I am hungry – and before I examine my new patient tomorrow, I should probably get some sleep for once. So, shall we? My father doesn't like to be kept waiting."
He started walking, and his two guards – Davis and the new one – followed him through the dim corridors of the estate. The sound of their footsteps echoed against the marble floor.
"May I ask what you're currently working on?" The new guard spoke cautiously, but the curiosity in his voice was unmistakable.
"You may." Helios stopped abruptly and reached into his coat pocket. "But first, I have something for you."
He pulled out two small ointment tins and turned to face them. Davis accepted his without question, while the new guard hesitated briefly before taking his as well.
"What is it?" Davis examined the tin critically, weighing it in his hand.
"A coagulant," Helios explained casually. "The last project I worked on. It helps with scrapes, minor cuts – anything that's not too deep. So, if someone slits you open, I'm afraid it won't save you."
"Comforting," Davis muttered dryly.
Helios gave a faint smile.
As they continued toward the dining hall, he felt his stomach growl again. There was still much to do – but at least tonight, he wouldn't be working on an empty stomach.
"That's actually pretty useful. Thanks," Davis said, turning the small tin between his fingers.
"You're the first ones besides me to test it," Helios admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I've tried it on myself several times, and it works perfectly. So, please use it."
Davis gave him a look that hovered somewhere between skepticism and appreciation. It was unclear whether he was impressed or on the verge of scolding Helios for his reckless self-experimentation. Eventually, he gave a slow nod, slipped the tin into his pocket, and turned to the new guard, who was still eyeing the ointment warily.
Noticing his doubtful expression, Helios stepped closer. "Davis, your knife," he said, extending his hand.
"What are you planning to do with it?" Davis raised an eyebrow but drew the knife from his belt.
"A demonstration." Helios' voice was calm, almost offhanded. He gave a thin smile. "Don't worry, I'm only going to cut my finger. If it makes you feel better, you can hold the blade yourself."
Davis let out a quiet sigh and handed him the knife. Helios took it without hesitation, placed the sharp edge against the tip of his finger, and cut himself. Dark blood welled up and dripped slowly onto the floor. He held his finger out so both guards could clearly see the wound. With a smooth motion, he took a bit of the ointment from the tin the new guard still held and rubbed it over the bleeding cut. The effect was immediate – the bleeding stopped immediately.
The new guard stared at Helios' finger in disbelief. "Impossible..."
Helios shrugged and handed the knife back to Davis. "So? I'm not planning to poison you." Without further explanation, he turned and continued walking.
Behind him, he heard Davis speaking quietly to the new guard. "Don't worry," he said in a low voice.
"Helios' medicine works. Always. If he says it's safe, you can use it without hesitation."
Helios couldn't suppress a smirk. Praise from Davis was rare – and only given when it was truly deserved. He cast a brief glance over his shoulder.
"By the way," he continued, "I'm currently working on a formula to reactivate inactive muscle cells. You two will accompany me to see a patient tomorrow."
Davis let out an amused snort. "Unusual for you to leave the lab twice in one week." His tone was teasing, but not without curiosity.
"The case is interesting," Helios replied calmly. "A young woman who hasn't been able to walk on her own for three days. According to the reports, this illness is always fatal. She will die too if we don't act. Time is of the essence."
The new guard furrowed his brow. "I've never heard of such a disease."
"It's rare," Helios confirmed. His voice was thoughtful, almost distant, as his mind already wandered through potential treatment approaches.
"You already have an idea how to help her, don't you?" Davis' tone had turned more serious.
The corner of Helios' mouth twitched. "Not just one." He paused briefly before adding, with a hint of mischief, "And maybe there'll be something in it for you, too."
Davis narrowed his eyes slightly. "And what exactly would that be?"
Without turning around, Helios spoke over his shoulder. "Come see me later. I'll tell you more then. Not all of my ideas are ready to share just yet."
Davis chuckled quietly. "I'll stop by after my shift."
"Good." Without further delay, Helios continued on his way.
After all, his father was waiting.
The upcoming challenge excited him. Diseases others deemed incurable were his specialty – and a testament to his abilities. As his footsteps echoed through the corridors, new formulas and experiments swirled through his mind.
One thing was certain: His medicine needed to be tested. His father's company could not afford failures – and Helios' reputation was flawless. So far, every one of his treatments had worked. Sometimes even better than expected.
His heart pounded faster at the thought of the experiments to come. There was still so much to discover, so many secrets of the human body left to unlock.
A wide grin spread across his face.
His whole body tingled with anticipation.
This promised to be a lot of fun.