CHAPTER 258
Livius' office had become a battlefield.
Medical textbooks and ancient healing manuscripts lay scattered across the floor without any attempt at organization. Several computer monitors remained awake, displaying blood analyses, body scans, and countless medical journals. Half-filled coffee cups sat forgotten between stacks of documents, while rows of failed potion samples occupied nearly every inch of the laboratory bench.
A whiteboard against the wall had been written over so many times that old markings still lingered beneath fresh ones.
Blood composition. Regenerative formulas. Ancient runes. Modern medical notes. Every available space had been used.
He stood silently before his desk. His white coat was creased, his hair slightly disheveled, and the faint shadows beneath his eyes betrayed weeks of inadequate sleep.
He picked up his fountain pen. Opening a leather-bound journal, he wrote in neat, familiar handwriting.
DAY 31.
