Nawaki took the stairs two at a time.
The basement's iron door had not been shut properly, and a sharp medicinal smell seeped through the crack. Nawaki pushed it open, and the hinges let out an ear-piercing metallic screech. Smoke billowed out with a whoosh, making him squint.
Only after half the smoke had dispersed did he see the scene inside clearly.
The basement was not large. It was a secret chamber Nawaki had personally hollowed out beneath the clan grounds with Wood Release, its walls embedded with fluorescent stones for light. At the moment, the floor was covered in shattered glass and spilled chemicals, while the air carried more than three unidentifiable chemical odors.
Orochimaru stood in the middle.
No, he was not standing.
He was floating.
His state could no longer be described as "excited." His golden slit pupils had dilated to their limit, and deep within them burned a fanaticism Nawaki had only ever seen when he faced forbidden technique scrolls. His white lab coat was splattered with liquids of unknown colors—green and yellow among them. Half his hair had come loose, several black strands plastered against his face.
But his hands were perfectly steady.
So steady that they formed an eerie contrast with his nearly crazed expression.
"Nawaki-kun."
Orochimaru turned toward him. His voice was suppressing something immense, something that could explode at any moment.
"Come here. Look at this."
Holding a petri dish in both hands, Orochimaru walked over to Nawaki. Inside was a small clump of translucent, faintly green gelatinous matter. Nawaki leaned in for a look—the thing was pulsing softly like a heart, swelling once every two seconds.
"These are active cells isolated from the blood sample you voluntarily provided three days ago," Orochimaru said. His fingers gripped the edge of the dish