Before the weight of a wager holding all the wisdom—and curse—of Atlas Academy's centuries lingered within those violet eyes, Steve answered with just one word.
"Deal."
His response wasn't loud, but it struck Sion's Thought Acceleration like a stone skipping across the surface of a still lake, sending out ringing ripples.
For a brief instant—barely a millionth of a second—the ever-calm violet pupils froze, stilled. She had practiced countless responses—caution, greed, negotiation, suspicion—but she had not expected the absolute confidence as if someone had solved a mathematical proof. It was so understated.
…
The following months were, thus, the most highly-classified period in the "Asteria" orbital station's history.
In its core area, the top technology and resources of the ODG were mobilized to construct a dedicated laboratory for Sion.
This was the pinnacle sanctuary of science on Earth—where things mystical could be quantified, analyzed, even rewritten.
The first time he entered, even Steve, seasoned as he was, had to glance twice. There were no rolls of parchment, no flasks with odd bubbles—just pristine white walls, holographic interfaces floating in midair, and quantum servers as powerful as they were simply shaped.
The air had a medicine-like scent, but it was only the result of layer upon layer of filtration: a perfectly inert, pure gas.
"Before we begin, let me give you a preview of what we're doing next." Steve stood in the center of the lab, summoning a detailed 3D human body model. He was now in a clean, sterile sensor suit; Sion, connected to a mesh of sensors, watched as he started his explanations.
"Sion, your polluted bloodline ancestors, all the 'vampires' of this planet are, at their core, abnormal existences created expressly to deny humanity's principle of prosperity."
"This stems from the ancient contract inscribed by the will of the planet—by the Crimson Moon himself—written deep within your blood."
"Your 'craving for blood' is, in truth, a façade. The real reason is the 'mandate of denying Human Order' that crowns your existence."
He continued in the language most familiar to her: "Think of it as... a chunk of source code. It dictates how you think. No matter how gentle your will, in a moment of crisis, the directive always takes precedence."
"'Death' is just a malicious diffusion of that code. Once triggered, it completely overwrites all your 'Sion' persona data—like a virus that no antivirus can detect or remove."
He paused, gesturing to the central, almost artistic, operating theatre within the lab.
"And my plan is very simple."
"Because it's code—it can be found, isolated, even deleted."
"We'll use billions of nanorobots to digitize your body. We'll hunt down that chunk of source code, and excise it—as precisely as a surgeon removes a tumor."
"Afterward, the risk of devolving into a Dead Apostle vanishes. Your bloodsucking behavior will revert to its most basic essence: the pure absorption of energy, just like eating for normal humans."
"You'll become a pure, stable 'vampire.'"
After the explanation, Sion remained silent for a while. Then she calmly lay back within the medical unit, staring at him with violet eyes brimming with analysis, understanding... and a hint of anticipation, even if she herself failed to notice it.
"...The theory is established. The risk rate is 78.4%, but compared to 100% destruction, it is worth a try."
"Doctor, I entrust you with possibility."
As the medical module slowly closed, an operation unprecedented—one crossing the boundary of science and mystery—began.
Steve's fingers danced across the holographic keyboard, issuing the first command.
A transparent fluid filled with billions of nanorobots was injected directly into Sion's vein.
On the gigantic holographic screen, a trailling crimson river appeared at once, displaying a microscopic world inside her. The nanorobots, like trained submarines, spread to every corner of her body, scanning, modeling, analyzing.
Minutes passed. The datastream on the displays refreshed like a waterfall.
Finally, after hours of exhaustive scan and analysis, the system let out a clear beep.
At the center of the 3D model of Sion's spiritual structure, a small point glowed with ominous, dark-red light.
He zoomed in infinitely.
It was a foreign presence entwined among the spiritual structures, radiating a faint light of life—a 'code knot' writhing with countless runic twists, radiating cold malice like a tiny black hole parasitizing the soul.
The source of all curses, the original edict to deny Human Order.
"Found it."
He spoke quietly, and began the crucial stage of the operation. He took a deep breath and, as if playing piano, let his fingers dance nimbly over the interface.
Under his command, tens of millions of nanorobots gathered around the code knot, transforming into 'scalpels' and 'forceps' smaller than any cell.
The excision began.
It was far more precise than engraving on atoms.
The nano-scalpels carefully severed every link between the code knot and the regular Spirit Particles structure. For every strand cut, another group immediately advanced to repair the wound, mimicking life energy, preventing a chain collapse of the overall structure.
Inside the med module, the ever-calm Sion shook violently for the first time.
The instant the robots touched the code knot, a chilling, cutting hatred and a ravenous hunger for unending life erupted from deep within her blood, engulfing her consciousness.
Such was the curse's instinct—a frenzy of ancient programming fighting back at the moment its core was touched.
Countless thoughts raged—dreams of annihilating humanity, flooding the world in a sea of blood, tempting her reason.
But Sion was, after all, an Atlas alchemist.
She gritted her teeth, felt cold sweat soak through the suit, and with iron will drowned out the "voice" in her mind that was not her own.
She chose to trust him. Chose to trust science.
It was impossible to say how long it took. It felt like a century.
At last, the final connection was severed. The code knot, entrenched for centuries within her soul, was lashed together and pulled loose—drawn away by a cage of nanorobots...
Sion's eyes snapped open.
For the first time, she felt utter "emptiness." Not weakness—rather, a pure clarity like nothing she had ever known, as if a colossal yoke was finally gone.
From the moment she became dhampir, her compulsive thirst and sense of alienation vanished utterly.
The capsule opened slowly, and Steve helped her out. Sion staggered a little, but quickly righted herself.
She raised her hand, staring at the pale but warm blood beneath her translucent skin, a complex glint flickering in her violet eyes.
Stretching her fingers, she started a thorough self-diagnosis with Etherlite.
After a while, she lowered her hand and regarded him with a new expression—one mingling awe and gratitude.
"...Operation complete. The threat's source has been eliminated. The Spirit structure is stable. Vitals are normal... or rather, for the first time, truly 'ordinary.'"
She stepped closer and solemnly extended her right hand.
"Doctor Steve, you have passed the test."
"As the Director of Atlas Academy, it is my honor to formally invite you into our highest-level strategic alliance. From now on, the future you face is a future we will face together."
…