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Novel Catalog
Chapter 103
Mr. Dean stood at the center of the villa’s living room, flanked by a circle of doctors and researchers in white coats. Their faces were drawn tight with worry—some brows furrowed in concentration, others slack with helplessness.
“Clear the room!” Stellar commanded, his voice icy. At his signal, Mr. Dean stepped forward and swept his hand in dismissal. The experts retreated to the walls, leaving only Stellar, Brian, and Nash by the bedside.
Philix lay motionless, eyes fixed on the ceiling but unfocused. His face twitched with pain, his limbs and senses numbed by the deossification poison that wracked his body.
Stellar bent close to his ear and whispered, “Warden, Nash has arrived.” Philix did not react.
Nash approached the bed. His gaze sharpened as he peered into Philix’s clouded pupils, where faint, hair-like motes drifted—a cruel manifestation of the toxin. Turning to Mr. Dean, he asked quietly, “Any stronger analgesics available?”
Mr. Dean shook his head. “I’ve already administered two doses. Nothing helps.”
“Very well.” Nash’s tone was calm but resolute. “Everyone else, please leave.”
The researchers filed out, reluctant but obedient. Brian hesitated, then followed. Nash added, “Brian, stay. You’ll observe.” Brian’s eyes brightened at the opportunity to learn. Stellar, silent, stayed by Nash’s side.
Nash withdrew a bundle of smudge sticks from his pocket. “Remove his clothing,” he instructed. Together, Stellar and Brian peeled away Philix’s garments, revealing a gaunt form. Skin hung loose over every bone. The hollows between ribs were sunken; his abdomen looked drawn tight. He resembled a skin-wrapped skeleton.
“He lost thirty-three pounds overnight,” Stellar whispered, voice cracking.
Nash tossed seven silver needles across the room. They whirled through the air and shattered every camera lens in the villa. In the next heartbeat, seven golden needles floated back, as if guided by an unseen hand, and settled in Nash’s palm.
He selected one, its shaft coiled like a miniature serpent, and pressed it into the crown of Philix’s skull. The needle trembled as if alive. Then, Nash placed eight more at carefully chosen points around Philix’s head and nape—nine total, each poised above a vital nerve node.
“The poison is overstimulating his central nervous system,” Nash explained softly. “Analgesics won’t touch it. Only by disrupting these pressure points can we induce a state of suspended animation.”
As he spoke, the heart monitor’s alarm blared. The flatline sent a chill through Stellar. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. Brian stared, determination in his eyes.
Nash remained composed. “I’m only twenty percent certain of success,” he admitted, voice steady. “But if he does not revive immediately, keep calm.”
The three men watched in tense silence, the golden needles quivering against Philix’s pale skin, waiting for the miracle that might save him.