The operation was arranged without delay with the farian prepared for surgery.
Under the harsh, sterile lights of the underground surgical bay, Bian laid down on a clean metal table, his chest rising and falling rapidly with excitement and nerves. Just a few feet away, the unconscious Farian—still restrained and sedated—was laid out on a second table, body exposed and wired with monitoring equipment.
Bian’s eyes flickered over to the alien beside him, and he couldn’t help the greedy grin that crept onto his face. That body... that power... all of it would soon be his. He licked his dry lips, his fingers twitching against the sides of the table. He could practically taste the power.
"Dican," he whispered, voice low and cold, "if anything goes wrong in my operation... kill everyone. Blast them all. Got it?"
Dican, standing silently at the head of the table like a loyal statue, turned his head slightly and gave a quiet nod. His eyes, previously blank, now glowed faintly with something cold and sharp.
The doctors—who had been checking instruments and preparing anesthesia—froze when they heard Bian’s words. A hush fell over the room.
Then chaos.
They scrambled, suddenly frantic, doubling their speed. One nurse fumbled a tray and nearly dropped a syringe. Another tech started barking out vitals louder than necessary. The atmosphere turned heavy, electric with fear.
None of them dared to question the order. Not with the Farian prince watching. Not with the scent of danger thick in the air.
From a glass window above the operating floor, Wang Bushen watched it all unfold with a deep, brooding frown. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and his eyes followed every movement Bian made.
A voice spoke behind him.
"Do you really think this is a good decision to make?" It was his nephew, his voice tense and bitter. "He can’t be trusted, Uncle... Even that stupid Jian was better than this rotten bastard."
Wang Bushen didn’t respond right away. His gaze lingered on Bian, now being strapped in by trembling hands, the idiot looking far too proud of himself.
Finally, he turned his head slightly. "Have you found where Li Wang is?"
His nephew Lui wang flinched.
"No... not yet. Brother’s still off the grid. But I’m here uncle. I can help you however you want,"
Wang Bushen cast a silent gaze his way. "my only successor would be Li Wang. Your duty now is to find him. Just focus on that. And warn your sister not to cause unnecessary troubles. Two lives were lost because she wanted to go out on an impulsive shopping trip. The world we knew had ended long back. We have to learn to adapt to that...." He gazed at him intently. "do you understand..."
"i.. I understand uncle." Lui Wang gritted his teeth as he peered ta his own shoe. Even when his step brother was not here.. he.. he was never enough. That feeling made him fucking sick. ’I hope he never returns home!’ he thought inside his heart.
Down below, Bian let out a slow, excited breath as the sedation mask was lowered onto his face. He glanced one last time at the alien beside him.
Bian slowly closed his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. Even as the cold mask of anesthesia settled over his nose and mouth, he kept his gaze fixed on Dican—who stood silently at the foot of the operation table. The golden-haired prince looked back at him, expression unreadable, but present. Watching. Just like Bian wanted.
’Finally...’ Bian thought, his chest swelling with a strange kind of pride and twisted joy. ’I’m going to change everything. I won’t be the forgotten one. I won’t be just a side character anymore... I’ll be the prince’s mate. I’ll have power, status... I’ll never be stepped on again.’
As his consciousness slipped, the smile on his face widened ever so slightly. He surrendered to the darkness willingly, ready to wake up as someone new.
The doctors didn’t waste time. As soon as Bian was under, they moved swiftly, preparing the tools they’d need. The Farian subject beside him—still sedated and restrained—was their source. With practiced precision, they began the delicate process of extracting bone marrow.
The moment the first syringe pierced through the Farian’s thick skin and reached the inner bone, something changed.
At first, it was subtle. A twitch of the fingers. A shudder in the chest.
Then it escalated.
The Farian’s limbs began to jerk violently. His back arched unnaturally, and monitors began to scream in protest. His pulse spiked—then dropped.
"Vitals unstable!" a nurse yelled.
"Administer stabilizer!"
But it was too late.
Whatever fragile balance the sedatives had maintained was broken the moment the marrow was extracted. The alien’s body, deprived of its core regenerative essence, began to fail catastrophically.
His golden-tinted skin dulled, the once-stable heart rhythm faltered, and then—stopped.
"Cardiac arrest!" another voice cried out.
They tried. They really did. The research team fought desperately to save their only viable Farian test subject, but it was no use. His body was too foreign. Too complex. And once the marrow was removed... it simply couldn’t sustain itself.
Eventually, the room fell into silence.
One of the senior researchers stepped back, pulling off his gloves with a slow, tired motion.
"He’s gone," he muttered. "He died on the table."
A heavy, bitter air settled across the room.
They had taken the marrow. They had completed the transplant. But at what cost?
Now, only one question remained. Would it work?
All eyes slowly turned to the unconscious figure lying on the next table.
Bian.
His chest rose and fell in deep, drug-induced sleep, unaware of the chaos that had unfolded beside him. Of the life that had been extinguished to fulfill his desire.
No one said anything for a long time.
Because now, all they could do was wait. Wait for him to wake up.
And pray that the monster they had created... wouldn’t destroy them all.