The Industrialist

Chapter 73: Sidetrack: Thoughts

He felt weaker every waking second as filtered air invading his lungs. His more pronounced breathing told him that his body had not recuperated from the wounds.

'Filtered air,' He thought. Its freshness poisoned him.

The manhole took him to the tunnels. He assumed his safety underneath the City from the pursuing killers but not the environment.

The cleaner the air, the more it was harmful to him.

However, despite his diminishing state, the scent grew more indicative.

'The boy is here,' He sniffed. 'Hours ago, he passed by here,'

He must move fast as his target could escape beyond his smell's reach.

Deeper into the tunnels, he pressed on. The black ooze continued to flow, dripping to the concrete ground, echoing.

His black flaked skin had fallen out, starting from his forearms. Viscous white puss started to wear off as the black dermis separated from his muscles. Immense heat seared all over his body like he experienced third-degree burns. He felt his foreskin had been gradually falling out like a snake, following on his cheeks.

His claws receded its length. A crackling sound of joining bones could be heard and his wobbling joints caused his fall. Thousand needles piercing against flesh and bone.

'A transformation?' He thought.

The feeling was familiar way back he started the initiation. The Queen's essence bathed him physically and the Entity strengthened him mentally, shielding him from the conquering human thoughts.

But now, he felt the reverse.

He removed his gas mask. He needed air, surprisingly.

From the reflections of the glass visor of his gas mask, he still saw the color of his eyes maintained. His night vision remained as the cavernous dark tunnels seemed bright enough that his vision still reaching the ends.

Black miasma emerged from within his body, its smoky characteristic finding gaps in his clothing to be exhausted towards the air.

He lay against the cold concrete, waiting for his bones' transformation to cease. The pain seemed forever, his eyes blankly staring at the concrete ceiling, surrendering to whatever his body manifested.

Fortunately, his heightened smell and vision had not left him yet. His physical body was only affected by the filtered air.

"Molybdenum? How?" Nathan was still perplexed.

"Molybdenum ores and Supernova-formed metals, rare level ones." Erik pressed again a button and showed a crystal-like metal. "Ground them together into powder-like particles and mixed with the contaminated organic matter. The Carbon monoxide and the metallic mixture will, in theory, support plant growth."

Erik typed in a series of setting modifications of the application they used. After a few seconds, a simulation of chemical bonds appeared, moving until it was compatible.

'Successful simulation!'' The computer's AI said.

"Not only that," Erik added. "In theory, increasing the ppm of our Supernova metal would push the plant's growth rate exponentially."

A line graph appeared, representing the growth rate simulated not in days or weeks but in seconds.

"What kind of Supernova metal would it be?" Nathan asked.

"That's the mystery," Erik said.

"A perpetual cycle between plants and virus contamination," Erik added, "Everything the virus touches will serve as food for the plant granting sufficient levels of Molybdenum and Supernova material in the plant's system. It could be Barzantine Crystal, or Royal Kronmium, and many others."

"This is a potential project, Doctor Erik!" Nathan exclaimed. His appreciation toward his mentor had grown every day, on in their every session.

"No. It is so much bigger. It is the beginning of Earth's renewal." Erik responded.

***

Seconds merged into minutes.

The memories flooded uncontrollably as he regained consciousness. The pain had subsided but still, he felt weak.

He hauled himself up, groaning in immense pain. He pressed his palms against the ground to stand. Even his palms were burning.

Then he looked at them, he had the skin of a human being but had a pale complexion. He touched his forearms, his fingers grazing his foreskin. It was smooth and wet, with minute lacerations appearing.

His soles were bathed with metallic liquid. It was his blood. Surprisingly, they were reddish black, darker than human blood.

Despite the pain looming in every inch of his body, he pressed forward in the tunnel.

The scent still lingered.