Unholy Player Chapter 508 A Body Too Valuable to Lose

"Drinking it this way is best," Rhys remarked with a calm expression. "It helps mask the bitterness."

Adyr was unsure if the man was referring to the sting of the liquor, the harshness of the serum, or if he simply viewed both as the same burden.

Leaning forward with genuine curiosity, Adyr watched Rhys closely, noting the effortless way he gripped the flask. "How does it feel? Can you sense the serum's effects?" He asked the question with sharpened focus; the answer carried immense weight.

Everything would be transformed if they managed to turn ordinary humans into Practitioners.

Even failing a full awakening, achieving a strength level comparable to Rank 3 would be a monumental success. From that milestone, reaching for Rank 4 was possible, and such an advancement would provide the human race with an incredible power-up.

In the ongoing conflict against the formidable factions of the Midlands, humanity could utilize their vast numbers as a primary weapon. By enhancing their bodies and combining them with modern rifles, they could create a force capable of suppressing monsters through sheer pressure.

If a Rank 4 Practitioner was truly that formidable, the solution was straightforward. They could deploy 100 or even 1,000 Rank 3-equivalent mutants, armed with advanced technology, to hunt them down. It would be a return to the tactics of their ancestors, who brought down mammoths through numerical superiority, primitive tools, and clever strategy.

Beyond the tactical advantages of war, a simpler motivation lingered in the minds of every leader. The prospect of commanding a powerful army was undeniable. They dreamed of soldiers under their direct control, each possessing the strength to shatter a country's defenses the moment a command was issued.

Rhys paused to consider the inquiry before giving a casual shrug. "My physical strength has definitely increased. I even feel a bit younger than I used to."

He took another swallow, the flask tilting easily in his grip as the liquid sloshed faintly inside. "But don't get your hopes up; I still can't grow a pair of wings, if that’s what you were wondering."

Despite his dismissal, the physical changes were visible. The deep lines on his face had softened, and his skin possessed a healthier, bronze glow, suggesting improved circulation and vitality. His graying hair had regained some of its former sheen, and his gaze appeared more piercing and attentive.

Nevertheless, the reality was plain to see. No matter how much his appearance had improved, he remained far from the threshold of becoming a Practitioner.

Acknowledging this, Adyr raised his hand in a casual motion, as if the items he was about to reveal were of little consequence.

Several buckets overflowing with a vibrant red powder materialized before him. "This is what remains of the treasure I utilized. Hand them over to the science team. Perhaps they can find a way to refine the serum using the remains of those Lunari ancestors."

His objective was clear, despite the low probability of success. He hoped these materials might lead to a serum capable of awakening a Blood Path Practitioner. While the chance was slim, the ingenuity of the researchers made it a possibility worth pursuing. Even a minor advancement would be a significant victory. "More seasoning for my drink?" Rhys laughed at the sight of the crimson powder. He seemed indifferent to what he ingested, so long as it provided his muscles with a bit more vitality.

Leaning down, he pinched some of the powder from a bucket and nonchalantly stirred it into his flask. The fine particles clung briefly to the rim before sinking into the liquid.

With a single shake, the red cloud dissolved into his beverage.

"You could have at least waited for the lab to process that into a drinkable form." Henry watched the scene with a dark, somber expression, looking like a man braced for a disaster.

"Hah, how do you think they develop these serums, Henry?" Rhys gave a derisive snort. "They test the raw materials on live subjects first to see what happens. I'm just saving them the trouble of picking a test subject. If I drop dead, they can just carve me up and harvest their precious data from my corpse."

He spoke of being a lab rat for the mutation serum project with a chilling familiarity, discussing his own life as if his body were merely another expendable resource on a workbench.

He tightened the cap with a quick twist, tucked the flask into his uniform, and stood up. "Right, that's enough talking for now. I'll take these down to the laboratory."

Grabbing the buckets in both hands, he walked out of the room with a steady gait. Despite the alcohol he had consumed, his movements showed no sign of stumbling.

Adyr trailed him with his gaze until the door shut. His eyes remained composed yet intrigued. To a keen observer, the crimson depths of his pupils seemed to ripple slightly, as if something hidden far beneath the surface had been stirred.

Once in the hallway, Rhys navigated the deserted, sterile corridor with the buckets still in his grasp. The bright overhead lights cast long reflections on the polished floor, sliding beneath his boots as he progressed.

His footsteps were silent, yet they lacked true softness. His posture radiated a sense of disciplined balance, as though his body instinctively maintained its training even while he tried to act casual. However, he only managed a short distance before his composure broke; his balance wavered, his shoulders slumped, and he had to make a clumsy correction with his foot. "Oops." His hands shook violently, nearly spilling the red powder. The contents shifted in a dangerous wave near the edge of the buckets. He tightened his hold and stabilized himself quickly, waiting until the swaying stopped. "Come on, old body. You're far too valuable to fall apart now," he whispered through gritted teeth.

He stood motionless for a moment to recover his strength. As his breathing steadied and his blurred vision cleared, he resumed his walk. His pace returned to its previous rhythm, as if the moment of weakness had never occurred.