Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Vero straightened, thinking fast. “That could work, but we’d need to introduce a protein that can outcompete the virus for binding sites. Something that’s compatible with Kurjan cells but also resistant to the antigen.”
Hunter snapped his fingers, his face lighting up. “You’re onto something with the demon blood tests, Vero, but you’re overlooking one thing.”
Fizzlewick squinted at him. “What’s that?”
Hunter leaned forward, his voice gaining urgency. “The binding mechanism. If the virus can’t latch onto your cells, it’s not just because of the blood’s demonic origin—it’s the interaction at the chromosomal level. You’re testing proteins, right?”
Vero nodded. “Yes. I’ve been isolating the blood’s unique proteins, but so far, I haven’t identified which one is creating resistance.”
“Exactly.” Hunter gestured toward the centrifuge. “It’s not just the proteins—it’s the way the demon chromosomal pairs interact with the cellular membrane. The structural difference in demon hybrids might create a barrier that disrupts the virus’s ability to bind.”
Fizzlewick straightened. “So, you’re saying the resistance isn’t just biochemical. It’s structural.”
“Exactly,” Hunter said. “If we target that mechanism directly—essentially replicate it—we can synthesize a compound that mimics the demon-specific cellular structure. That would block the virus from binding to infected cells.”
Vero frowned, the idea sparking possibilities. “I’ve been focusing on isolating the proteins, but if we model the membrane’s structure and reinforce it in infected cells…”
“…we create a shield,” Fizzlewick finished, already moving to his equipment. “We’ll need to use the blood you’ve already been working on. I can refine it through structural modeling and combine it with what’s left of the serum trials.”
Hunter nodded. “Let’s add enzyme inhibitors to disrupt the virus’s life cycle while we’re at it. If we attack from both angles—blocking binding and preventing replication—we might just have something.”
Vero’s mind raced. The pieces were coming together. “I’ll run simulations on how the membrane interacts with the virus. Fizzlewick, you prep the serum.”
“I’m on it,” the doctor said, reaching for his pipettes.
Hunter grabbed a notebook. “I’ll handle the computational modeling. Let’s see if this idea holds up.”
For the next few hours, the three males worked in tandem, falling into an easy rhythm. Hunter isolated the key proteins from Vero’s and Paxton’s blood samples, while Vero ran compatibility tests with the infected soldiers’ blood. Fizzlewick fine-tuned the serum, adjusting ratios and running simulations.
Finally, Vero held up a syringe filled with a pale blue solution. “We need a guinea pig.”
From the corner of the room, Jonathan groaned. “Use me.”
Vero turned, frowning. “You’ve been through enough.”
“I don’t care,” Jonathan rasped, forcing himself to stand. He shuffled toward them like an old human, his shoulders hunched and his movements slow. “It can’t make me feel any worse.”
Vero hesitated, searching Jonathan’s feverish gaze. “We don’t have an antidote if this goes wrong.”
Jonathan swayed but stood firm. “I don’t care. Just do it.”
Hunter and Fizzlewick exchanged wary glances. Finally, Vero nodded and tapped on the syringe. He pressed it against Jonathan’s arm and injected the serum.
Jonathan gasped, stumbling back against the counter. His breath hitched, and his eyes fluttered shut. Hunter reached for him, but Jonathan held up a hand. “No—just give me a second.”
The air around him shimmered. Tiny pops of light danced like fireflies, sparking and dissipating as the energy in the room shifted. Vero stepped back, his instincts on high alert. “What’s happening?”
Fizzlewick hurried closer, squinting. “Oh my God. Those are healing cells—on steroids.”
“On steroids?” Hunter echoed, raising an eyebrow.
Fizzlewick shrugged. “What? We have the internet now. I’ve been watching modern movies in my spare time.”
Jonathan groaned, his face flushing red before the color evened out. He stood straighter, his movements less sluggish. “I feel…incredible. Like, I need to go punch something. Or—” He paused, grinning. “I need a female.”
“Hold on,” Vero snapped, grabbing Jonathan’s arm. “How do you feel? Any nausea? Pain?”
“Nope.” Jonathan stretched his arms, his energy palpable. “I feel like my healing cells are in overdrive. They’re fixing everything.”
Hunter clapped Vero on the shoulder, his expression triumphant. “I think we’ve got it.”
Vero examined Jonathan closely, noting the male’s steady breathing and clear eyes. Relief flooded through him, loosening the knots in his shoulders. “Looks like we do.”
Fizzlewick, already at his equipment, called out, “Let’s mass-produce this serum. Fast.”
Vero nodded, feeling hope. Finally. “For the record, Hunter—you’re still my best friend too.”
Chapter Forty
Vero stepped out of the medical facility and into a blistering wind. Snowflakes pelted him like bullets under the harsh glare of the lights. He squinted through the storm, his gaze drifting toward the area where he’d planned to build a proper reception space for the Convexus tonight. Of course, he hadn’t gotten the chance. Quickly recalculating, he considered his options, only finding one. They’d have to hold the ceremony outside by the river.
If the forty Cyst didn’t rejoin the Kurjan nation, he didn’t really have a plan B. They could try to survive on their own. There’s a chance they’d succeed—especially if they aligned with the Realm. The idea didn’t sit well with him. Aligning with only half his people felt like a failure. There had to be a better way.