A day with Dr. Dietrich Wagner

Dr. Wagner Point of View

I woke up to the familiar dim glow of my quarters, the steady hum of machinery in the walls a soothing reminder of the life I had built here. Without wasting time, I got dressed. My attire was always the same functional, precise, protective.

First, my coat: a reinforced long black duster lined with advanced fiber mesh, resistant to cuts, burns, and chemical corrosion. Beneath it, a fitted black combat suit, its surface laced with micro-reactive plating to absorb blunt force impacts. Then came my gloves an invention of my own making. They were black, seamless, and entirely impervious to piercing, whether by blade, needle, or fang. Many had tried to analyze their material composition. None had succeeded.

Finally, I reached for my mask. Sleek, matte black, and shaped like the old plague doctor masks of history, but infinitely more advanced. It was no simple relic it was my shield, my identity. A complex filtration system ran through its design, capable of neutralizing any airborne pathogen before it reached me. The glowing blue optics adjusted to my vision as I secured it over my face, sealing me within my fortress of knowledge and control.

Satisfied, I stepped through the door connecting my quarters to my laboratory, where the true heart of my work lay.

In the center of the room stood my pride and joy a towering, spherical machine of intricate design. It pulsed with a slow, rhythmic hum, its surface lined with countless vials, data panels, and analysis tubes. This masterpiece contained a record of every disease, every poison, every toxin ever encountered in Evolto City and beyond. If it existed, this machine had it stored its composition, its symptoms, and, most importantly, its cure. It did not discriminate between species, whether native to Evolto City or from distant realms. No illness, no venom, no biological weapon could escape my database.

I approached my desk, where my most prized companion rested a Warper Spider. One of the most dangerous species of spider in existence.

Sleek and eerily intelligent, my little friend observed me with its many eyes, its body shifting slightly as its legs twitched. Unlike ordinary arachnids, Warper Spiders could phase in and out of reality, teleporting short distances with precision. A bite from one was fatal to most creatures, inducing paralysis within seconds, then shutting down the nervous system entirely within minutes. But to me, it was nothing more than a pet a fascinating specimen that had learned to recognize me as something more than prey.

I extended a gloved hand, and the spider hesitated before climbing up onto my arm, its movements smooth and calculated. "Guten Morgen," I murmured, my voice filtered through the mask, the subtle German accent flowing smoothly. "I trust you did not get bored while I slept?"

It merely twitched in response, as if amused by my words.

I turned my attention back to my work. "Today vill be anozher day of refinement, of progress," I muttered in my thick German accent, fingers already dancing across the console in front of me. "For no matter how much I have achieved, der universe always finds new ways to create suffering. And I vill stay ahead of it."

My voice was calm, steady, as though speaking in the accent was just as natural as breathing. It had become a part of me over the years, like every tool I wielded.

I was deep in my work, experimenting with a peculiar bacterium that had piqued my interest. It displayed an unusual resistance to conventional methods of eradication, almost like a biological enigma. It seemed to possess the kind of indestructibility akin to a Tardigrade Hypsibius dujardini, or water bear, as they were commonly known. The bacteria's resilience to extreme temperatures, radiation, and dehydration was baffling, and I could not help but marvel at its sheer ability to survive against the odds.

But before I could continue my examination, a loud bang echoed through the lab, the door to my office crashing open. Startled, I looked up. The enormous figure of Yariam, the Ogryn, appeared in the doorway, his massive hand holding a crop that looked almost... lifeless. It seemed to be rotting at an alarming rate, the disease creeping through its cells in a way I had never seen before. The crop was rapidly wilting, its leaves turning brown, its vitality fading with every second.

"Dr. Little 'un... crop dying! Fix?" Yariam's voice boomed, his words awkwardly slurred but filled with genuine concern. He was always a gentle giant, and today was no different, despite the towering presence he had.

I blinked and quickly stood from my workstation, moving toward the crop he was holding. I examined the withering plant carefully. The disease seemed to be an aggressive, fast-acting one its tendrils creeping deep into the crop's cells, consuming them from the inside out. It was unlike any pathogen I had encountered before.

"Hmm, yes, Yariam. I can fix this," I replied, my voice calm but focused. "But may I ask... which sector is this crop from?"

"From… uh... Sector 9, I think? Uh, yes! Sector 9!" Yariam said, almost uncertain as he recalled the information.

"Sector 9..." I muttered, tapping my chin thoughtfully as I examined the crop further. Sector 9 was known for its dense agricultural zones, but it had always been prone to strange anomalies. "I see... this is a rare type of infection, one that requires immediate action. You'll need to quarantine that entire sector," I added, already reaching for my equipment.

Yariam nodded eagerly. "Okay, Dr. Little' un. Yariam will go... wait. You fix, yes?"

"Yes, Yariam," I assured him. "I will get to work immediately. Make sure to quarantine the area, and keep others away from it. This disease is too dangerous to spread."

With a deep nod, Yariam turned and lumbered off, leaving me alone with the infected crop. As I prepared to work, my thoughts were focused entirely on the challenge at hand. This infection was a reminder that, no matter how much progress we made, nature could always throw something new at us. Something I would have to be ready to solve, just as I always had.

Yariam left the crop on my workstation and quickly ran back, using the Traversal Pylon to return to Sector 9. I wasted no time. Carefully, I extracted a sample from the infected crop, placing it within a sterile test tube. Holding it up against the light, I observed how the disease had already spread through the cellular structure of the plant. The decay was rapid too rapid.

I turned to my Machine, my greatest invention, and inserted the sample into the analysis chamber. The machine whirred to life, scanning the bacteria at a molecular level. For a few seconds, the screen remained blank, then suddenly, data flooded in.

A list of diseases appeared on the display, each sharing similar symptoms with this infection:

Pseudomonas syringae – bacterial plant pathogen causing rapid necrosis.

Blight Plague – A disease known for wiping out entire ecosystems.

Rust Rot – A fungal-like disease that corrodes plant tissue and spreads through spores.

Phage Decay Syndrome – A rare Evolto City affliction that mutates to survive against treatments.

Ashen Wilt – A disease unique to Sector 9, known for its rapid mutation and resistance to cures.

Seeing the list, my eyes narrowed. Every single one of these diseases had either originated from or affected Sector 9. This was no coincidence. The machine continued analyzing, and soon, a full report appeared.

Disease Name: Necrotic Phage Strain-47

Mutation Rate: Extremely High

Host Species: Currently affects plant life, but has potential for cross-species infection.

Symptoms: Rapid cell decay, structural collapse, nutrient absorption failure.

Risk Level: High – Potential for food shortages if not contained.

I exhaled sharply. This was bad. If the disease was left unchecked, it could spread beyond Sector 9, infecting other crops and leading to widespread shortages across Evolto City. Worse, its high mutation rate meant it could potentially jump to animals or even sentient species.

Without hesitation, I activated the machine's AI, setting it to overdrive mode. The machine let out a mechanical hum as it began cross-referencing data, running millions of possible solutions per second. Time was against me, but I had no intention of letting this disease win.

"Sehr gut… now let's fix this before it spreads," I muttered, rolling up my sleeves. The battle against Necrotic Phage Strain-47 had begun.

As hours flew by, the machine's AI and I worked tirelessly, dissecting the pathogen's structure at a molecular level.

Through genetic sequencing, we identified its core instability its rapid mutations were caused by an unstable RNA polymerase, similar to highly adaptive viruses. By introducing a custom-engineered ribozyme, we disrupted its replication process, effectively neutralizing its ability to mutate.

Additionally, the pathogen produced a unique enzyme that allowed it to break down plant cell walls. We synthesized a targeted enzyme inhibitor to block this function, preventing further decay.

With the pathogen's weaknesses fully mapped out, we formulated a broad-spectrum bacteriophage cocktail a viral-based treatment that would seek out and destroy the infection while leaving healthy cells intact.

Satisfied with the results, I compiled the full report and transmitted it directly to Zalthorion. With a few swift keystrokes, I sent the cure's formula to the Foundry, where it would be mass-produced and distributed across Sector 9 immediately.

"Und another crisis averted," I muttered, rubbing my temples. But I knew better Evolto City always had another challenge waiting.

I stumbled out of my office, legs aching from hours of unmoving concentration. "Bah, sitting for so long is torture," I grumbled under my breath as I forced myself toward the elevator. With a soft whir, the doors closed, carrying me to Zalthorion's office at the heart of Evolto Tower.

As I stepped inside, I found him already absorbed in my report, his golden eyes scanning through the data without even glancing at me.

"You did well," he said, voice calm and steady, still focused on the holographic screen.

I smirked behind my plague doctor mask, crossing my arms. "Ja, of course I did. Vould you expect anyzing less?"

Zalthorion didn't answer, just gave the faintest flicker of amusement before continuing to analyze the report.

I sighed and leaned against the desk. "You know, Zalthorion, you should really take some time off from all zis multiversal madness. You are always buried in vork."

"I don't have that luxury, Wagner." His voice was even, controlled. "There's always something that needs my attention."

I shook my head. "Nein, nein, nein. You always say zat. But you have a son Marisov. He needs you, ja? He adores you. And yet, you spend more time reading reports than spending time vith him."

Zalthorion's expression didn't change, but I noticed his hands pause slightly over the console before resuming their work.

"I know." His voice was quieter this time. "I know I should... but the responsibilities I carry—"

"Are endless, ja, I know. But so is time. You, of all people, have ze ability to bend time itself. If you vanted, you could make time for Marisov. Yet, you don't."

A long silence settled between us.

I decided to push further. "And zat boy... he vants a mother figure. And let's be honest, Azura is quite ze perfect candidate. You do realize zat Marisov spends every waking moment trying to set you two up, ja?"

Zalthorion's expression hardened slightly. "I'm aware."

I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "Zen vhy not let it happen? She is strong, capable, devoted to Marisov. I am not telling you to marry her tomorrow, but at least consider it."

He finally turned his gaze to me, and for the first time, I saw something flicker in those golden eyes something hesitant.

"Wagner, do you know the one thing I fear?"

That caught me off guard. "Hah! You? Fear? Please, enlighten me, oh great Zalthorion."

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "I fear her."

I blinked. "Azura?"

He nodded. "She is... relentless. Unstoppable in her pursuit. She is more dangerous than even my worst enemies because she will never stop trying."

I burst out laughing. "You, ze greatest being in existence, fear a voman in love? Zis is priceless!"

Zalthorion shot me a sharp glare, but I waved him off.

"Listen, Zalthorion. Whether you like it or not, Azura vill keep trying. And Marisov? He vill keep trying, too. Sooner or later, you vill have to face ze inevitable. Maybe, just maybe, instead of running from it... you should give it a chance."

For once, he didn't have an immediate reply. He simply looked back at the report, but I could tell he was thinking about it.

A sudden, deafening thunderstrike echoed across the room, rattling the windows of Evolto Tower. The shockwave vibrated through the walls, making my plague doctor mask rattle slightly. I furrowed my brow, glancing toward Zalthorion.

"That's weird. Isn't the thunderstorm supposed to happen in three days?" I asked, my voice laced with confusion.

"Yes," Zalthorion replied, his voice cool, though there was a certain unease in it. He turned his attention to the large storm projection outside his window, watching the clouds swirl in a chaotic dance.

Before either of us could ponder the anomaly any further, a loud, booming voice suddenly cut through the air, feminine in origin, shouting with clear irritation.

"STOP EATING THE TREES, YOU DAMN FLAMING LIZARD!"

I blinked, unable to hide the chuckle escaping my lips.

"Is that..." I began, pausing as I listened to the increasingly frantic cries echoing through the storm. "...Aveonis?"

Zalthorion nodded, his expression unchanged. "It seems so."

Just then, a loud, guttural roar rang through the air a mixture of frustration and exasperation, followed by a soft, almost pitiful whine, before the unmistakable sound of something being chomped down echoed from afar.

"Yep, that's definitely Aventis," I said, shaking my head.

I couldn't help but laugh lightly as the thunder in the background seemed to pulse with the sounds of Aveonis's command.

"She's still trying to keep him in check, huh?"

Zalthorion didn't respond, but I could see the hint of a knowing smirk on his face. The giant flame salamander, Aventis, and the thunderbird Aveonis, his beloved companions, were a wild pair of forces, often at odds despite their strong bond.

"They seem to have quite a dynamic," Zalthorion finally spoke, a rare amusement creeping into his tone.

As the sounds of the thunderstorm grew louder and more chaotic, I realized we weren't just witnessing a lightning storm but rather the natural tug-of-war between two immensely powerful, elemental beings.

And from the sound of things, the flaming lizard wasn't exactly cooperating.

As the argument between Aventis and Aveonis escalated, I could feel the tension in the air, the electricity building as thunder crackled, and flames roared. It seemed like it was going to turn into a full-blown fight, when suddenly, a childish voice rang out from the distance.

"Aveonis! Aventis, you're back!"

It was Marisov—his bright, innocent voice cutting through the chaos like a beacon of calm.

As soon as his voice reached their ears, the flames from Aventis began to die down, and the storm outside began to dissipate. The rumble of thunder softened, leaving behind an eerie calm. Then, a loud, guttural purring filled the air, the familiar sound of Aveonis, soothing in its depth and power.

The voice of Aveonis rang out, now dignified and almost regal, speaking to Marisov with a tone of affection and patience.

"Marisov, my little one. You always manage to calm the storm," she said, her voice rich with warmth.

"Aveonis!" Marisov exclaimed, running toward her with excitement in his steps. "Are you mad at Aventis? He was eating all the trees again, wasn't he?"

A soft whine rumbled from Aventis, his frustration still lingering as he shifted from one large foot to the other. He let out a loud, almost childish roar, his way of expressing displeasure. His fiery orange scales gleamed under the dimming light, and his large, reptilian eyes narrowed as he glanced at Aveonis.

"Yes, I know, Aventis," Aveonis replied, her tone soft and understanding, despite the giant salamander's dramatic display. "But you mustn't destroy everything in your path. Remember the last time you ate an entire grove?"

Aventis let out another guttural roar, almost like a growl, but there was something apologetic in the way his massive head tilted. "I am sorry, Aveonis," he seemed to communicate with his body language. "But I am hungry. The trees... they are delicious!"

Marisov laughed, stepping closer to the towering figures of the two creatures, his hand resting lightly on Aveonis's leg.

"You two are always so funny!" Marisov said, giggling. "Aventis, I bet you'll get in trouble again for eating everything, won't you?"

Aventis let out a whine, almost like a child who had been scolded, and then nudged his head against Marisov's side, as though asking for forgiveness.

"Yes, Aventis, I know you didn't mean it. But you have to listen to Aveonis sometimes." Marisov petted Aventis' head, his small hands unable to cover the giant creature's scales, but his affection was clear.

Aveonis purred again, the sound vibrating in the air. "He's a good creature at heart, Marisov," she said, bending down slightly to meet his gaze. "He just has a very... enthusiastic way of showing it."

Marisov nodded enthusiastically. "I understand, Aveonis! I'll make sure to help you keep Aventis in check, okay?"

Aventis let out a low rumbling sound, his version of a grunt, and then lowered his massive head, as though agreeing with the plan, though he would likely need more convincing the next time he was hungry.

The playful exchange between the two of them was a reminder of how even the most fearsome creatures in Evolto City had their own personalities, often softening for those they cared about. For Marisov, both Aveonis and Aventis were not just beings of immense power, but companions who treated him with a tenderness that matched his innocence.

I couldn't help but smile as I watched, despite everything else unfolding in the city. "I see Marisov has a way with even the wildest of creatures," I muttered to myself, while Zalthorion let out a soft chuckle beside me.

"He always does," Zalthorion agreed, his eyes briefly softening. "Maybe... there's hope yet for the balance between them."

As the last of the storm cleared and the sounds of Aventis and Aveonis faded, it felt like a small but significant peace had been restored, even if just for a moment.

"Well, now that it's over, I'm heading out," I said, barely finishing my sentence before I turned and started heading toward the door.

"You're going to Cavian's daycare, I take it?" Zalthorion asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah, I'm sure I'll have a great time," I replied, my voice bright as I made my way out of the building. Using the Traversal Pylon, I quickly found myself miles away from the tower. With the city bustling around me, I made my way to Cavian's daycare.

As I approached, the sound of laughter reached my ears bright, carefree, and echoing from within the large building. The unmistakable sound of children's joy filled the air, and I couldn't help but smile as I neared the entrance. The warmth and energy of the place always put me at ease.

I took a deep breath, feeling the comfort of familiarity wash over me as I stepped closer. This place always felt like a refuge, a world where time slowed down, and the laughter of the little ones carried an innocence that made everything seem right.

I push open the daycare door, the familiar creak of it barely registering in my mind. The moment my foot crosses the threshold, the warm hum of the building surrounds me. It's a place where laughter and the soft murmurs of children fill the air a welcome contrast to the cold, sterile environments I often find myself in.

As I make my way through the halls, a couple of the workers give me polite nods, their smiles brief but genuine. I return their nods and wave them off. They know the routine. I've been here often enough that it almost feels like home, though I wouldn't admit that to anyone.

When I reach the main room, I slow my steps, taking in the sight of the children playing. The air smells like crayons, books, and something slightly sweet like cookies, I think. The laughter and chatter of the kids mix in a way that doesn't feel chaotic, just... alive.

As I push the door open fully, every little head in the room turns in unison. I freeze for a moment, feeling a slight tug at my heart, but it's gone as quickly as it came.

"Look, it's Dr. Wagner!" One of the kids shouts, her voice high-pitched and excited.

And then, chaos.

The children come charging toward me, small hands reaching up, voices calling my name as if I'm some kind of hero. It's a sight that almost makes me forget the weight of the world I carry every day. They surround me, their tiny bodies pressing in from all sides, each one eager for my attention.

I let out a soft chuckle, bending down to greet them at eye level, my heart light despite the constant storms in my mind.

"One at a time, kids," I say with a grin, trying to maneuver myself out of the wave of enthusiasm.

It's a bit of a lost cause, but it doesn't matter. One by one, they tug at my coat, some asking for stories, others just wanting a hug, and one even asking for a piggyback ride.

I find myself laughing again, the tension that always grips me slowly loosening with every giggle, every small hand that reaches for mine. There's something about this place, something about these children, that reminds me why I keep pushing forward.

It's not the tests or the technology or even the endless fight I wage in my own head. It's moments like this. Moments where I get to be here, to simply exist and be a part of their world, even if just for a little while.

"Alright, alright," I say, lifting one of the little ones onto my knee, "Who's first for a story?"

I finish reading the book, watching as the children, their little bodies exhausted from the excitement, slowly begin to drift off to sleep. Their breathing grows steady and soft, even as some of them remain standing, propped up only by the sheer will to stay awake. It's a strange sight, but not unusual. The room is peaceful now, filled with the gentle hum of contentment.

As I carefully slip away from the group, trying not to disturb the quiet, I make my way toward the door. The moment my hand touches the handle, I hear a faint chuckle. It's soft but unmistakable, and it instantly pulls me out of my thoughts.

Turning around, I see her standing in the doorway. Cavian. The woman who owns this daycare, and, frankly, the heart of it too. She's holding two infants one in each arm and I can't help but pause as I take in the sight. One's a human child, around four or five years old, and the other... the other is a Metallurge infant. That one's particularly interesting, given the weight of the species. A Metallurge, even as an infant, weighs about the same as a cubic meter of Mithrildense, durable, and deceptively strong.

I wonder just how strong Cavian is herself, carrying both of them with such ease.

As I make my way toward her, she glances at me, her gaze warm, even amused. I find myself scanning her face as she holds the two infants, her demeanor calm and unruffled by their differing weights. She's built different than most people, that's for sure.

She hands me the human infant first. The little girl stirs slightly as I take her in my arms, her tiny body trembling from the coolness in the air. I try to settle her, cradling her gently, when the unexpected happens.

The infant suddenly begins to cry. The high-pitched wail startles me for a moment, and my hand instinctively reaches for my mask.

I feel Cavian's soft laughter tickle the air.

"Take off your mask, Wagner," she says, her tone gentle, but with that knowing warmth only a mother could have.

I hesitate. The mask is part of me now. Part of my identity, my protection. But as the little one continues to cry, I realize she's only frightened.

With a reluctant sigh, I slowly remove the mask, the cold metal scraping against my skin as it comes off. The world feels different, lighter somehow, as I look down at the infant, her eyes wide and still teary, but her crying starts to soften.

I offer her a smile, though I know it's not the most comforting thing. "It's alright," I murmur softly, rocking her gently in my arms.

Cavian watches me, her smile softening as the baby calms in my embrace. She takes a step closer, now holding the Metallurge infant. "There you go. Much better, right?" she says, almost teasing, but her voice is full of affection.

I glance up at her, meeting her eyes for a moment. Despite all the chaos in my mind, standing here, holding these babies, I feel... well, not so alone.

"Do you ever take a break?" I ask, the question slipping out before I can think better of it.

Cavian just smiles, her gaze shifting from the Metallurge baby back to me. "I don't need one. Not when I get to see this every day."

Her words settle into my mind as I hold the little human girl, the weight of her body reassuring in my arms. Maybe... maybe this is what I've been missing. Not the lab, not the work, but this. The connection.

"You're good with them," she says, her voice light but full of an unspoken understanding. "More than I thought you'd be."

I glance down at the baby again, letting out a soft sigh. "I do my best," I mutter, but the words feel strangely sincere this time.

Cavian smiles at me, then shifts the Metallurge infant into a more comfortable position, her gaze never leaving mine.

"You know, sometimes I think you're more human than you realize, Wagner."

I don't have an answer for her. Instead, I just let the moment linger, cradling the infant in my arms as Cavian does the same with the other. For once, everything seems right in the world.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, I left the daycare, my feet carrying me down the familiar sidewalk. Instead of taking the Traversal pylons, I chose to walk home, feeling the last warmth of the day on my skin. The fading sunlight cast a golden glow over everything, turning the pavement beneath me into something ethereal. I found myself staring down, mesmerized by the light dancing on the stones.

And then, a memory stirred. The sidewalk, back then, was made of rough stone, and a little girl skipped happily beside me, her voice filled with a pure excitement I could almost feel again. "Mister Wagner, the sun is so beautiful. When I grow up, I want to see it up close," she said, her wide smile like a beacon of hope and innocence.

Even though the memory was distant, I felt a lump form in my throat. The sound of her voice, so full of wonder and dreams, seemed to echo in the space around me, hanging in the air with each step I took. The sun, still bright in my memory, couldn't wash away the bittersweet emotions that began to rise within me. How much had changed since then. How much had been lost.

The tears that welled in my eyes were not just for her, but for all that had been sacrificed along the way. And yet, in that quiet moment, I could almost hear her again, her voice bright with the same hope she had once shared. "Mister Wagner, the sun is so beautiful." I swallowed hard, unable to shake the weight of what once was, and what could never be again.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper to the fading light, as though the words could somehow reach the past, undo what had been lost. The apology felt like it belonged to someone else someone who had failed her, failed them all. My voice trembled in the stillness of the evening, swallowed by the quiet hum of the world around me. I wanted to believe that it was enough, but deep down, I knew it wasn't. It would never be enough.

As the tears threatened to fall, I wiped them away, not wanting to break the fragile moment of solitude. But I couldn't help it. The weight of my own regrets hung heavy, and the memory of that little girl's smile, full of dreams and hope, reminded me of how far I'd come and how far I had strayed from the person I once was.

And yet, in my heart, a small flicker of resolve began to grow. Perhaps the past couldn't be undone, but there was still time to move forward. There was still time to honor her memory.