Incompatible

Arthur stood beside the cloning vat, for he was admiring the nearly fully grown clone. It was a reminder of the incredible advancements he had made in his laboratory.

But his attention was diverted to the vial in front of him, containing the sterilized blood cells he had collected from Gaara during their battle.

Brie walked with a look of caution on her face.

"Everything's fine," she said, handing Arthur the vial. "I've separated the blood cells, and I've purified them for you."

Arthur took the vial, remembering that fight with Gaara. He had teleported away at the last second, leaving everyone to believe he had died. It was like his wanted level had dropped from five stars to zero.

He recalled the reports of Gaara's supposed triumph and the Leaf Village ninjas' celebrations. It was the perfect cover for him to lay low for a while. But more importantly, he had collected Gaara's blood, which he was about to infuse into his Blade of Chaos.

Arthur walked over to a nearby workstation. He carefully opened the crystal that housed his Blade's core and poured the blood cells into it. Brie watched with interest as he began to merge the blood cells with the crystal.

The process was slow but intense, with the crystal glowing a deep amber as the two substances combined.

He himself stood still and watched a show of swirling black tribal signs gradually fading in and out of the weapon's core. It was intriguing to say the least.

Sheer observation wouldn't be enough for him to tell what effects Gaara's added blood would have on his weapon. But for now, he would have to wait and test it later.

With it still in his hand, he turned to the vial of blood cells and walked over to pick up a syringe. He then carefully loaded the blood cells into it.

"You plan on infusing the blood into yourself?" Brie asked, looking confused.

He didn't even bother explaining the potent acquisitions that were involved with blood transfer between highly skilled ninjas.

With that, he injected the cells into his bloodstream. At first, there was a moment of clarity, and then his body began to react. He started to cough uncontrollably in his hands, causing Brie's eyes to widen in shock.

When he looked at his palm, he saw blood mixed together with sand. Something was terribly wrong.

His eyes narrowed, and he stumbled backward, almost falling over. This prompted Brie to rush to his side, trying to catch him, but he firmly pushed her away.

"Don't touch me…" he demanded as his body wracked with agony.

Brie hesitated for a moment, then stepped back, watching in horror as he struggled to stay upright. There was only one logical explanation for his pain—he was incompatible!

Him trying to balance out the cells with chakra wasn't working. It's as if Gaara's blood was simply rejecting his body.

He couldn't comprehend at first. There was surely nothing wrong with the blood. What exactly was causing the rejection then? Surely it couldn't have been because of his enhanced body.

Trying to calm himself, he performed the Poison Extraction jutsu to remove the cells. His hands were shaky as the red liquid tried coursing out of his veins. Then his body began to react once more; his coughing fit intensified, and his face turned a deep shade of red.

Despite trying to keep a straight face, it was clear that his body was convulsing with agony. Brie watched, her eyes wide with concern.

The remnants of Gaara's cells that had managed to slip past the technique clung to him and refused to be expelled from his system. Every breath was a struggle, a fight against the sand that seemed to curl around his bloodstream.

His vision blurred intermittently as he staggered, using the edge of the lab bench for balance. Sweaty palms gripped the surface as he leaned against it.

Even his hearing had taken a toll. What was supposed to be machines running sounded like trucks plowing through a multitude of vehicles.

Then his stomach started to churn and his connection to his own chakra seemed to fail. It was as if every ounce of power he had was being siphoned away.

He swiped a hand across his forehead, wiping away sweat, only to find that his fingers came away flecked with tiny grains of sand—his own body turned against him and the very cells he hoped to harness was now threatening to choke him.

"My lord! Please, just breathe!" Brie's voice broke through.

She moved closer in worry, but he raised a hand in a desperate gesture, a futile attempt to keep her at bay.

"Get back!" he croaked, sounding harsh and raw.

The sand twisted inside him like a symbiote trying to take over his body—the blood cells thrashed around him with molecular-sized sand multiplying by the second.

A sudden cough tore through him, sending him heaving forward as crimson droplets sparked with gritty grains burst from his mouth. Blood, saliva, and coarse sand splattered onto the floor.

The sight of it all only deepened Brie's fear as she instinctively stepped closer, arms outstretched.

"My lord! Please, you need me—"

"No!" he shouted again, but this time the rage in his voice couldn't come out. As he struggled, a fatigue seeped into his bones, urging him to collapse onto the floor. "Just… stay… back."

He managed to stagger to his feet, determination vying with pain as he swiped his hand across his mouth, catching some of the residue before it fell away. Breathing still, he clenched and unclenched his fingers, trying to regain some control over his body.

Each heartbeat had to be fought hard against, so he squared his shoulders, deciding he needed to reach the cabinet where the emergency supplies were stored.

He stumbled towards his goal while the lingering sand created a discomfort that made him feel like he was moving through molasses. His mind couldn't even tell what he needed, and he could scarcely focus long enough to remember what supplies could help him.

This was truly a terrifying situation to be in.

Every inch closer to the cabinet felt monumental. Then his vision began to blur further just as he finally reached the cabinet.

Grasping at the door handle with a clammy hand, he threw it open and broke the hinges. Rows of syringes and vials were seen, so he made a desperate grab for one of them.

At last, he found an emergency syringe filled with a thick blue liquid meant to stabilize rapidly deteriorating blood conditions. But the moment was fleeting. As he turned, he felt another gush of powerlessness flash through him, and the world twisted oddly.

His feet felt unsteady, and before he knew it, the syringe slipped from his grasp, spinning through the air before crashing to the ground. The sound of shattering glass echoed off the walls, and the thick blue liquid pooled on the floor. More pain flared up his spine, and he succumbed to a violent coughing fit once again.

Brie rushed to his side in fear and knelt beside him. Her eyes darted over his crumpled form, searching for signs of his stability.

With each violent cough, blood mixed with sand splattered on the lab floor, a sight that made her heart drop.

"Don't die, don't die!" she whispered as she brushed against his shoulder, desperately trying to make sense of the situation.

His coughs only slightly faded before she turned toward the broken syringe. That's what he was planning to use, so maybe there were more. In her frantic search for help, she looked up again, contemplating the supply cabinet before rummaging through the remaining stock for anything that could bring him back.

This was unbecoming of a former mortician. She had witnessed and embalmed countless dead bodies without feeling a thing. Yet when it came to Arthur, it was different.

If he died, would his body join those statistics? Would she see him lifeless, lifeless like the corpses she had been so fascinated by for years?

No, she wouldn't let that come to pass.

It's then the unthinkable happened: she stopped hearing him cough—a sign that he had died.

Swiftly turning around, she was shocked to see that some of the blue liquid had been sucked up. There were remnants of it on his lips, signifying that he had taken some off the floor.

He must have struggled to do it while she was still searching.

"My lord!" she said, running to his still form.

Arthur lay there as she checked his pulse. He was still breathing, but it was clear that most of his strength had been drained. He was pale, and his chakra levels were at an all-time low.

Brie didn't know what to make of things. What was she doing? She mainly worked on dead bodies, not live ones.

Without panicking, she quickly tried lifting him up but found him to be too heavy. "What the heck are you made out of?!"

She looked at him, who was now slumped against the floor. "Come on, my lord." She then planted her feet firmly on the ground, gripping his arm to haul him up. "We've got to get you somewhere you can lie down."

Arthur's eyes slowly opened by a fraction, yet he didn't even have the strength to protest further. His body screamed exhaustion, and every part of him felt heavy.

As Brie struggled to pull him to his feet, she noticed Koko approaching with concerned strides. The little monkey girl's brows knitted together in concern as she exclaimed, "What happened to daddy?!"

"Just help me!" Brie pleaded, shooting a quick, frantic look at her.

"Why did daddy's chakra just drop?!"

"Just help me alr—!"

Before Brie could finish her sentence, Koko's resolve steeled, and without warning, she rushed over and bent down, effortlessly lifting Arthur's limp body into her arms. "I got 'em!"

Then she carefully set him down, arranging him gently on a white linen spread across a table within the laboratory.

"Koko—" Brie started, but all thoughts fled when she saw the limpness of Arthur's body up close.

"Let me try something," the girl said after resting two palms on his chest.

She was going to perform the Chakra Transfer technique to keep him stable.

Brie hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Okay, just keep him steady. I'll be right back to find a treatment."

With that, she dashed off to the shelves lining the walls. She was focused, scanning rows of glass vials filled with a kaleidoscope of colours, yet she couldn't find anything.

While Koko worked, Brie rifled through the last of the vials. The last of the liquids had been used. Her eyes landed on a small spill on the floor. Desperate, she knelt to scoop some of it into a small glass vial, unsure of what it was but captivated nonetheless.

She then carried it back to the workbench, where she pulled out a set of small chemical analysis tools.

As she worked, Koko continued her chakra transfer, pouring her natural energy into Arthur as he lay there, still and silent. Sweat beaded on her brow with her tongue sticking to the side. "Don't die, daddy!"

Finally, the analytical tools beeped, revealing specs of the liquid's composition. Brie's heart sank as she studied the figures flashing on the small screen. The results to recreate that dosage would take weeks!

For a brief moment, she felt admiration for Arthur; he had prepared this, anticipating something they could potentially use in dire times. But that admiration vanished when she understood that they didn't have weeks.

If Arthur didn't stabilize soon, he would die from the effects he was experiencing.