Restart:Untalented Man

Chapter 342  Secret Experiment Part II

His body writhed with violent convulsions before...

Boom!!—

A sudden explosion occurred.

The sound reverberated within the walls.

The scene unfolded with an abrupt and unsettling intensity, as the man's physical struggles reached a climax.

He exploded.

A burst erupted from within him, splattering the surroundings in a grim and gruesome spectacle.

The room was painted in red, an aftermath of the man's abrupt and explosive transformation.

The once-human form was no more, replaced by the visceral remnants of his being. They were everywhere, the blood and other human internal organs.

The scene was overly gruesome and certainly not the most ideal way to kickstart the day.

In the aftermath of the explosive transformation, a heavy silence settled over the room.

The researcher exhaled a sigh, "I guess we need to clean the room once again," he remarked, his voice a blend of resignation and practicality.

It was a routine that had become all too familiar.

As the remnants of the experiment tended to, the researcher's attention shifted.

He turned to Prince Baldwin, his gaze carrying a hint of concern. "Are you okay, Your Highness?" he inquired. His voice conveyed a genuine curiosity about the prince's reaction to the scene that had just transpired.

"Yeah," Baldwin responded, his voice tinged with a shocked undertone.

Fortunately, Baldwin had been swift in heeding the researcher's earlier caution.

As he stepped back, his clothes remained untarnished by the visceral aftermath of the experiment.

Still perplexed by the grim scene they had witnessed, they focused their attention on the researcher's words, his explanation cutting through the lingering shock.

"As you can see, he and the samples before him explodes. Even a drop of the pure red liquid is too much," the researcher's voice was measured, tinged with a scientific detachment. "After several tests, we managed to find the right amount of water to dilute a drop of the red liquid to a safe level. However, the success rate is not a hundred per cent. I do say, seven out of ten who consume a drop of the diluted liquid survive."

"Why not dilute it even more?" Baldwin's curiosity interjected, his perplexity prompting the question.

The researcher's response was thoughtful. "There are several concerns about that. First, we are afraid that the effect would be reduced to a level so low that it becomes nonexistent, which would defeat the entire purpose of this experiment. Secondly, we simply don't have much of the red liquid left. General Victor only obtained one vial during his plunder in Mezorin."

"How many people have survived?" Baldwin inquired, his curiosity still tinged with a sense of disbelief at the gruesome display they had witnessed.

The researcher's response was measured, "Not many. We have been very careful with our selections, not wanting to squander the limited resource. Moreover, if an uprising were to occur among those subjected to the experiment, we would be hard-pressed to contain them."

The researcher led them to another section of the laboratory—a portion that exuded an air of gravity and containment.

Here, a moderate-sized prison area stretched before them, with cells neatly lined up along the corridor.

The cells, each possessing their own subdued presence, were enclosed by reinforced iron doors that bore a weighty solidity.

As one of the cells opened, it revealed a young man bound with thick and heavy iron chains.

A group of people working in the laboratory proceeded to pull the man out from his confinements, the clinking of iron chains breaking the silence.

Baldwin turned his gaze towards the man, subjecting him to discerning scrutiny.

The figure before him lacked any distinctiveness, akin to the commoners one might encounter on bustling streets.

In fact, the man's form bore the signs of malnourishment, his body showing the effects of inadequate sustenance.

Curiosity piqued, Baldwin inquired, "What exactly are you trying to do?"

The researcher's response carried a note of anticipation. "Allow me to present you with the results of the experiment, Your Highness."

The man was forced down onto his knees, his body trembling in the face of impending pain. Several blades glinted in the dim light, poised for action.

Slash—

A gut-wrenching scream of agony erupted from the man's lips, the sound reverberating through the room.

The onlookers remained impassive, almost detached as if they were observing a mere spectacle.

As the man writhed in torment, Baldwin's keen eyes caught something unusual.

The deep gashes that had been inflicted on his body began to exhibit a peculiar phenomenon.

The edges of the wounds started to knit themselves back together as if a mysterious force was at work.

"This is the effect of consuming the red liquid," the researcher explained, his tone carrying a mix of scientific fascination and clinical detachment. "It accelerates the body's healing ability to a degree far surpassing that of a normal human. Unfortunately, it cannot regenerate a missing limb or organ, possibly due to the lower potency of the liquid."

The researcher proceeded with another test, this time bringing a cup of drink. With a firm grip, the drink was forcefully shoved into the man's mouth.

Almost immediately, the effects took hold. The man's body seemed to pulse, a silent struggle taking place within him. It was as if two opposing forces were locked in a fierce battle beneath his skin, each vying for dominance.

Gradually, a strange phenomenon unfolded. Tiny beads of liquid began to seep out of the man's pores, glistening on his skin like a surreal form of sweat.

The researcher's voice broke through the tense atmosphere. "As you can see, the poison does affect him, but not to a threatening level. If he were a normal human, he would have died. We have tested many types of poison on him, and he still remains alive."

Impressed by the effects demonstrated on the man's body, Baldwin offered a slow, deliberate clap of his hands.

His intrigue was evident as he questioned, "Amazing! But, I have been meaning to ask, why does this man appear so malnourished?"

"We deliberately keep him in this state to reduce his strength. Allow me to demonstrate," the researcher responded.

With precision, an iron rod was swung against the man's head. The potential lethality of the blow was belied by the sight of only minor bleeding resulting from the impact.

The researcher explained, "This illustrates my point. Even in his malnourished state, he possesses remarkable resilience. Imagine the extent of his strength if he were in good health. This is also why we've restrained him with such a thick and heavy iron chain. Your Highness, there's no need to worry. He has survived for more than a week without any food or water."

Prince Baldwin nodded understandably. It was indeed dangerous to let this man escape.