CHAPTER 188: THE SCIENTIST

The door creaked as Hermes pushed it open. The botanical garden wasn’t just a garden at all. The air was heavy with the mixed smells of soil, herbs, and something faintly chemical. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, preserved animals floating in jars, insects pinned under glass, plants blooming in carefully labeled pots.

The air was damp, and the faint buzzing of unseen insects echoed against the glass ceiling. A small fountain trickled in the corner, though the water was green with algae. Every corner of the room looked touched by some experiment, some strange curiosity.

Butterflies spread their wings in a collection, dead but undying through chemicals. A row of reptiles in cloudy jars leaned against one wall, their eyes open and pale, watching without watching.

In the center....

A tree reached so tall it had broken through the ceiling.

The roof itself was cut into a circle to let it pass, almost like the building had been built around the tree instead of the other way around. Its bark was coarse and dark, its trunk impossibly wide, and the smell of it carried a faint sharpness, as though the wood itself exhaled.

Its roots sprawled across the floor like a prison of wood, one of them carved into a makeshift desk. Several roots twisted like snakes around the shelves, as if the tree itself was claiming the entire study as its body.

"This is less a garden," Aphrodite said softly, eyes scanning the walls. His gaze lingered on the roots, on the preserved animals, on the strange vines dangling from the rafters. "More like... a study."

"More like a creepy hoarder’s den," Somner snapped, hugging his jacket tighter. His Louboutin boots scraped against the floor uneasily. "I swear if a pickled frog jumps out at me, I’m suing."

Magni let out a booming laugh that echoed against the jars, shaking the liquid inside them. "Your fear dishonors the glory of this place! Behold, knowledge carved into every leaf, a battlefield of discovery!" He slapped one of the thick roots as though it were a warrior’s shoulder, grinning wide.

"Behold," Ymir muttered coldly, "a fire hazard waiting to happen." His eyes flicked up to the hole in the ceiling, then back to the roots sprawling like veins across the stone floor.

They moved forward carefully, the tree looming above them like a silent sentinel. Its branches creaked faintly, though there was no wind inside the building, making Hermes’ skin prickle. He glanced at the massive trunk again, uneasy without knowing why.

And that was when he spotted it...

What looked like a pile of laundry dumped in the corner. But the pile shifted, muttering quietly.

The others stiffened as the pile stood to about 6 feet tall.

It wasn’t dirty clothes. It was a man.

Crouched low, rifling through the bottom shelves, his voice droned like machinery. Raphael flinched immediately, his hands clenching as if restraining himself.

Then the man stood upright.

"Ah," the figure said, tone flat and uncaring. "Visitors. Hold on."

Dr. Atum Khemia was not faceless this time. His turban wrapped tightly around his head, his body layered with clothing, but unlike in Raphael’s memory, his face was now visible. His reddish-brown skin stretched thin against sharp cheekbones, a tall nose jutting, white stubble prickling his chin.

He looked older now, worn down, but the same man all the same.

Wrinkles pulled deep across his forehead, his lips thin and colorless, as though the years had bled all expression out of him. His long fingers flexed once, then twitched idly, as though still gripping phantom instruments.

The man turned back to his shelf. And after a moment, he pulled out what he’d been searching for.....

A backscratcher.

Not a normal one. This thing looked like it belonged in a torture chamber, spiked, jagged, almost gleaming. It had teeth of several animals attached to it, stitched into the handle crudely.

He lifted it and casually dragged it down his back. His eyes rolled up. A guttural groan of relief escaped his throat, long and slow, like steam escaping a valve.

"Ahhh.... That is better."

The group just stared. Even the tree seemed to creak faintly at that exact moment, like it was reacting to the grotesque scene.

"...Is he serious right now?" Somner asked, voice rising. "Spikes? Is he into BDSM?"

Magni clapped once, nearly shaking the jars on the shelves. "By the gods! He scratches his own back with the fangs of beasts! A ritual of strength!"

Ymir pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "This cannot be real."

Aphrodite said nothing, though his lips pressed together tighter, his gaze darting briefly to Raphael’s stiff posture.

Dr. Khemia set the scratcher aside and sank into his desk carved from tree roots. His weight pressed against the wood like it was an extension of him, the table creaking under his elbows. He picked up a pen and tapped it against paper with a machine-like rhythm.

Then, without even looking at them, he said, "If you are here to pass your thesis paper, place it on the table. If you are here to beg for higher grades, grovel on the floor. I am equally uninterested."

The group exchanged quick looks. The tree loomed silently over them, its branches creaking again, like a reminder that something bigger was watching.

"...Oh my god," Somner whispered. "He thinks we’re students. Our disguises worked so well the old creep didn’t even—"

"We are not students," Raphael suddenly said, his voice sharper than usual.

And then his eyes flared. Twin beams of golden light lanced out, burning through the backscratcher and reducing it to molten slag. The spiked remains hissed against the stone floor, smoke curling upward.

"Raphael!" Hermes gasped, taking a step toward him.

But Raphael stood tall, eyes blazing, though his jaw was tight. His gaze flicked once toward the tree, then back to the man before him.

Dr. Khemia’s head finally turned. He took off his huge tinted glasses and looked at them with....

With his milky eyes, pale and clouded. For the first time, it became clear.

He was blind with cataracts.

Even Raphael froze, stunned.

"...How," Aphrodite whispered, "could he have...?"

The man tilted his head.

"Ah. Gabriel," he said, in the same flat tone, as though identifying an insect pinned to glass. "Took me long enough. My vision is the size of a pinhole now. But it is nice to not-see you."

Hermes opened his mouth. "His name’s Raphael, not—"

"Don’t," Raphael cut him off. His face was tight. "He’ll never call me by the right name. To him I was never Raphael. Just a... specimen."

Dr. Khemia’s pen scratched paper again. His face didn’t move. His voice had no life. "Names are irrelevant, Michael. They are not variables that change results."

The group shifted uneasily, the faint creak of the tree above them sounding almost like a groan.

Somner threw up his hands. "Not even gonna ask why we’re here? What, too boring for you?"

"You will tell me anyway." Dr. Khemia said without looking up. "Wasting my breath accelerates nothing."

Hermes slammed his palm on the desk, the root desk shaking under the force. "Then let’s accelerate. Where’s the fiery plant?"

Khemia finally looked up, tilting his head. His voice didn’t change. "Fiery plant. Define. Pyrophytes? Or perhaps firesticks. Euphorbia tirucalli. Kniphofia uvaria. Each unique in morphology. Did you know firesticks release toxic latex when broken? If burned, inhaling the smoke can—"

"Oh my god, he’s a walking Wikipedia." Somner groaned.

"More like an annoying AI chatbot." Ymir muttered.

Khemia droned on, unbothered. "...The Kniphofia, also known as red hot poker, is an ornamental—"

"Enough!" Raphael snapped, slamming his box open.

The Pleroman plant sat there, fiery and otherworldly, its strange glow pulsing faintly. Aphrodite’s breath caught. His eyes widened.

"... So this is what a Pleroman plant looked like." he whispered in admiration, being a horticulturist himself.

Magni stepped forward, awe in his booming voice. "A tree of fire! Brother Modi, Brother Raphael, it is glorious! It sings of battle and power!"

Ymir frowned deeply, his cold eyes narrowing. "Truly alien..."

Somner was nervous, his arms folding tight across his chest. "Uh... Am I the only one worried that it will trigger the fire alarm and leave us all soaking wet!? Hello!?"

Khemia’s pen stopped. His head tilted slightly. His blind eyes did not move, but his voice, for the first time, held something like interest. "Where did you acquire that?"

"None of your business," Raphael shot back. His voice was rawer now. "What I want to know... is if you had one this whole time. Even when I was a child."

There was no hesitation.

Khemia answered flatly. "Yes."

Raphael’s entire body tensed. His fists shook. "You lied to me. You said the comet was the only source. That there was nothing else. All that time—"

"I never said that," Khemia interrupted, tone perfectly even. "If you were unaware, that was the Thirteen Stripes’ decision. It was their omission that misguided you, not my deception. My task was singular: observe the specimen. Supply solinium monthly to sustain the organism. I just completed that task."

Everyone was offended to hear a sentient being called a ’specimen’, even Somner and Ymir who didn’t particularly like Raphael.

"Specimen?" Somner snapped. "He’s not a rat in a cage, you freak!"

Ymir’s lip curled. "You dissected a child and called him ’specimen.’ How much of a stereotypical evil scientist can you get?"

Even Magni, usually oblivious to the darker nuances, lowered his voice. "Brother Raphael is no object, old sage. I admire those with a thirst for knowledge, but if you truly want to study a living being, you must first treat them and their life with respect."

Hermes’s jaw tightened. His hand curled on the table. His eyes flicked once again toward the great tree, looming like it was listening to every word.

Dr. Khemia’s face did not change. "Emotion is an inefficient variable. He was unique material. Study was inevitable."

Raphael’s voice cracked as he shouted, "Where is it then? Where’s the plant?"

Khemia gestured flatly with his pen. "You are already looking at it."

The group exchanged confused glances.

Hermes frowned. "What do you mean?"

Raphael’s breath hitched. His golden eyes ignited again, this time not with anger but focus. He turned his vision inward using his X-ray vision...

Into the roots, into the trunk of the massive tree at the center of the room. His eyes widened.

"Fire," he whispered. His voice was low, trembling. "There’s fire inside. That means... this tree. This tree is the plant."

A/N I’m getting burned out and overwhelmed with my other obligations in real life so I’ll be posting 1 Chapter per day instead of 2 from on. I might go back to 2 once I have less on my plate. Thanks for understanding.