Vigo didn't hesitate. He uncorked the modified vial and poured the shimmering concoction directly into the brass channeling funnel atop the pod.
Inside the crystalline glass, the adolescent seaman arched in the fluid. Radiant, pulsing lines of energy flared across its translucent blue skin, glowing with a fierce, blinding luminescence.
Arthur braced himself, his muscles locking tight as he anticipated an inevitable shockwave.
But the eruption never came.
The blinding light within the pod flickered, dimmed, and then settled into a soft, steady glow. The overwhelming energy receded beneath the creature's skin, fading back to a healthy blue. The seaman went limp, its chest rising and falling in a slow, rhythmic slumber as it drifted peacefully.
A breathless laugh punched its way out of Arthur's chest. "It stabilized," he breathed, gripping the cold iron edge of the workstation. A surge of triumph chased away the tension in his shoulders. "You did it. The ratio—it's perfect!"
"Hm." Vigo didn't even crack a smile. His face remained a mask of carved granite as he snatched a quill, his hand flying across an open ledger in sharp, aggressive strokes.
"The base equilibrium holds," Vigo muttered, speaking more to the parchment than to Arthur. "But equilibrium is not the objective. A baseline ratio is useless if the dosage fails to scale against arcane capacity."
He dropped the quill and pointed a stained finger toward the far bench. "Take the other prepared dose. Run it through the Separation Membrane. I need the solutes concentrated by a factor of three."
Arthur blinked, the lingering euphoria draining from his blood. He looked from the bench to the pod. "Concentrated? But... Head Instructor, the subject barely survived the base solution. If we spike the density by even a fraction of a percent now, the resulting arcane feedback will lead to an explosion like previous tests."
"That is the expectation, yes." Vigo retrieved an empty, heavy crystal vial, inspecting its flawless surface.
"But why?" Arthur's voice pitched up, a crack of genuine innocence slipping through his manufactured stoicism. "We have the stable formula. We can test the scaling variables on the other subjects. Why inflict such permanent damage on this one when it already survived the conversion?"
Vigo paused. Slowly, he turned his head. His hollow, obsessed eyes pinned Arthur to the floorboards, and the temperature in the laboratory seemed to plummet.
"Because, Cedric," Vigo said, his voice a silken, icy whisper. "The purpose of my Magnum Opus is not to elevate a species. It is to forge you into the strongest mage alive."
Vigo stepped closer, the sheer gravity of his presence suffocating the space between them. "Supremacy is absolute. It cannot exist if it is shared. If this creature survives with the same arcane mutation we are attempting to bestow upon you, then your power is no longer unique. It becomes a commodity." He thrust the empty crystal vial against Arthur's chest. "Prepare the membrane."
Arthur stared down at the instrument in his trembling hands. A cold, heavy stone settled deep in his gut.
He's right, Arthur told himself, desperately clinging to his justifications. I need this power. I have to become the strongest for Cedric's sake.
He turned toward the bench, his fingers tightening around the cool glass. Yet, as he caught a final glimpse of the sleeping, innocent face of the seaman, a splinter of hesitation wedged itself into his mind.