Chapter 56:Pain

Dr. Halloran paced the room, muttering to himself, his heavy footsteps echoing against the blood-splattered walls. His pudgy fingers twitched with excitement as he rifled through his instruments, occasionally pausing to scribble something illegible in his notebook. He barely acknowledged Alaric, strapped to the table, as though the immortal figure before him was merely an object to dissect.

"Amazing… simply amazing," he murmured, grabbing a large syringe filled with a dark green liquid. "Your regenerative properties defy everything we know about biology. Flesh, bone, blood—each working in perfect synchronization. How does your body decide what's essential and what isn't?" He jabbed the syringe into Alaric's arm without hesitation, watching the liquid disappear into his veins.

He tilted his head, observing. "Hmm… nothing yet. Perhaps it takes time. Or perhaps your body neutralizes toxins before they even take effect. But how? What mechanism? It's maddening!" He let out a sharp laugh, throwing the empty syringe onto the tray.

"I'll need to analyze this later,"he said indicating the blood he collected so far,"Cellular structure, genetic markers… there has to be something here. Some clue."

Halloran set the vial aside and reached for the branding iron, heating it until it glowed white-hot. "Heat resistance." He pressed the iron against Alaric's forearm, the flesh sizzling and blackening. The acrid smell filled the room, but Halloran didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned closer, his wide eyes reflecting the orange glow.

He pulled the iron away and tapped his pen against his chin. "So, fire won't kill you, but prolonged exposure… hmm."

Halloran didn't stop. He brought out poisons, injecting Alaric with a series of concoctions, each deadlier than the last. He monitored the results with detached precision, scribbling notes even as Alaric's body fought off the effects.

Alaric's body jerked violently with each injection, muscles spasming uncontrollably as if trying to expel the poison with every convulsion. His jaw clenched, the strain evident on his face as foam began to froth at the corners of his mouth, a sign of the internal war his body waged against the toxins. His skin, pale and taut, seemed to ripple as the poison struggled to break through, but the moment the toxins made contact with his blood, they were swiftly repelled, pushed out by his abilities.

"Fascinating," Halloran muttered to himself, unbothered by the grotesque spectacle. Alaric's spasms intensified, his body fighting back, but despite the outward signs of pain and strain, there was no sign of surrender. The vampire's body might reject the poison, but the process was far from clean.

As the day went on,the experiments became more brutal. Halloran crushed Alaric's bones with a hydraulic press and even tore chunks of flesh from his torso. Each time, Alaric's body healed, the damage reversing itself as though it had never happened.

He looked at Alaric with a glint of madness in his eyes. "Partial decapitation could yield interesting results."

He picked up a bone saw, pressing it lightly against Alaric's neck. For a moment, he seemed to lose himself in thought, the teeth of the saw glinting under the harsh light. Then he shook his head, setting it aside. "No, no. Too much. We mustn't rush the process. Science demands patience."

Alaric remained silent, his gray eyes fixed on the ceiling. He knew from experience that any reaction, any sign of pain, would only encourage Halloran further. So he endured, letting the madman work.

Dr. Halloran adjusted his gloves with methodical precision, the faint snap of latex echoing through the sterile, blood-splattered room. His eyes gleamed with fervor as he selected a fresh scalpel from the tray, the blade catching the fluorescent light like a sliver of malice.

"Now, let's see how your insides behave," he murmured, his tone detached, clinical, and unnervingly giddy. "Organs are the engines of life, after all. Do yours follow the same rules as ours? Or have they been... re-engineered ?"

Alaric lay motionless, his pale chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. His body, still healing from the earlier torment, twitched slightly as the cold steel touched his skin. His mind screamed at him to move, to resist, but he forced himself to remain still.

The first incision was precise, running vertically down the center of Alaric's chest. Blood pooled immediately, warm and dark, but Halloran ignored the mess, his attention fixated on the slow, agonizing reveal beneath the skin.

Alaric's jaw tightened, his breath hitching as the scalpel dug deeper. The pain was excruciating, a white-hot agony that radiated through every nerve. His body, desperate to repair itself, worked against the restraints, muscles twitching involuntarily.

Halloran continued narrating his observations, utterly oblivious—or indifferent—to Alaric's suffering. "Your muscles are denser than a human's. Almost fibrous in structure. Resilient. But what of the organs?" He reached for a set of clamps, pulling the skin aside to expose the ribcage.

With a grunt of effort, he snapped the ribs apart, the sound of cracking bone reverberating through the room. Alaric's body jolted, his fingers curling into fists against the restraints. Halloran, unbothered, leaned closer, his breath fogging against the exposed cavity.

"Your lungs," he said, voice dripping with awe. "Still inflating and deflating, despite the trauma. And your heart…" He paused, reaching for the scalpel again.

The blade pierced Alaric's heart with a sickening squelch, and Halloran's eyes widened as he watched the organ continue to beat, the scalpel embedded deep within. Blood gushed around the blade, but the heart didn't falter. Instead, it pulsed rhythmically, the muscle flexing against the intrusion as if rejecting the foreign object.

"Your heart functions independently of physical damage. It doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down.?"

He jotted notes frantically, his pen scratching against the clipboard. "Does the blood act as an intermediary, perhaps? A signal to maintain function? Or is the heart itself the key to your immortality?"

Alaric's body convulsed subtly, his breaths coming faster as his system struggled against the invasive procedure.

He pulled the scalpel free, marveling at how the heart immediately began to repair itself, the wound closing in seconds.

Dr. Halloran's excitement grew as Alaric's body began to transform under the relentless experiments. Alaric gritted his teeth, his breathing uneven as sharp hunger clawed at his insides. The pain, though unbearable, awakened what he couldn't suppress any longer.

His eyes turned jet black, the gray vanishing entirely. His teeth lengthened, jagged, his lips curling back in a menacing grimace. Halloran paused, captivated by the monstrous shift. "How Captivating," he muttered, setting down his scalpel and grabbing a pair of pliers.

"Let's see what happens when we remove one of those impressive teeth," Halloran murmured, bringing the pliers toward Alaric's mouth. As soon as the tool latched onto one of his elongated teeth, Alaric clamped down hard, his jaw snapping with such force that the pliers shattered in Halloran's hands.

The doctor stumbled back, blinking in disbelief. "Bites through steel," he muttered, grabbing his clipboard and scribbling furiously. "This must be an adaptation. A carnivorous mechanism. Designed for consuming… meat? Human flesh?"

Alaric growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his exposed chest that was now beginning to heal now that the clamps were gone. The hunger twisted inside him like a knife, but he stayed still, his mind battling his instincts.

Alaric's head snapped back suddenly, his neck twisting at an unnatural angle. His blackened eyes locked onto Halloran, and his breathing turned into a distorted growl. His teeth gleamed, his face twisted into something both human and monstrous.

Halloran froze, the heart still in his hand, his excitement tempered by a creeping sense of fear as Alaric ripped off his constraints with brute force.Alaric's voice, now deep and guttural, rumbled through the room. "Little human, are you enjoying yourself?"

The doctor hesitated, his lips tightening. For the first time, he felt a pang of unease. Alaric's gaze bore into him, the sheer malice in his expression making the air feel heavier.

Still, Halloran straightened, refusing to show weakness. "You can't harm me, Alaric. The spell ensures that. I could work on you for years if I wanted." He said stepping back to observe Alaric's reaction. "But… I think we're done for the day. I've extracted what I need."

He backed away, his bravado cracking under Alaric's unblinking stare. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Alaric alone in the blood-soaked room, his body still trembling from pain and fury.

Alaric lay motionless on the bloodied table, his body aching from the relentless torment. His once-pristine patient's robe was shredded and soaked in his own blood, the crimson staining his pale skin. Slowly, he lifted his trembling hands, staring at the streaks of drying blood that clung to them, his fingers shaking from the unrelenting fury building within him.

This… he thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. This filth touched me. That human dared to touch me. His chest heaved, not from exertion, but from the overwhelming disgust and anger churning in his core.

His blackened eyes flickered back to their normal gray as his body settled, but the hatred remained—a venomous heat crawling through his veins. He looked down at his chest, where the wound Halloran had pried open was still closing, the skin fighting to seal itself completely. Even the blood still clinging to him, evidence of his humiliation, felt like a taunt.

His chest rose and fell, he lay back against the table, his fists clenched and his eyes burning with rage.