It didn't take long for Reivan and his snaky steed to make it all the way to the kingdom's southernmost city. Nor did it take long for him to go a bit past its southern border above the sea, and right above Aizen's most notorious permanent vacation spot — Grimharbor Penitentiary.

While it would have been much faster to take a portal or ask Valter to take him there, Reivan felt like basking in the scenery today. And really, taking the easy ways didn't save him that much time — Zouros was huge but quite fast, after all.

Reivan jumped down from his invisible mount and Zouros returned to his soul to focus on digesting something or the other. His serpentine friend had been wreaking havoc in the Outlands, to the extent that it had actually died a couple of times. Fortunately, death was a foreign concept for the Archon Fragment. From these deaths, Reivan managed to figure out that Zouros could revive anywhere from a day to a month after its death. Perhaps it was due to the nature of its chaos-attribute, a lot of things were erratic.

The serpent itself felt like death was no big deal though. Just a chance to take a break from eating.

Because of his comrade's nonchalance, Reivan himself had gradually grown desensitized. It had happened so much, that whenever it did, Reivan would just think something like "Oh, Zouros died again." and then continue on with his day.

"Good morning, Your Highness."

Reivan landed on the ground and smiled at his guardian knight. "Good morning to you too, Valter. I'm glad to see you're still in good health."

The purple-haired knight smirked. "No thanks to a certain prince that has holed up in the palace, robbing me of a job to do."

"Other people would celebrate getting paid for doing nothing."

"I think of myself as an earnest and diligent person."

"Is that so." Reivan rolled his eyes and gestured for his knight to follow as he strode into the prison. "We won't be long here. I just have a couple of questions for the professor. Maybe get an update on his work. Maybe make some suggestions. And definitely drag him out before he dies down there."

"I see. I'll stay out here, then."

"No need for that. You can come."

Valter shook his head. "It's need-to-know, right?"

Reivan hummed to himself for a bit then shrugged. "Fine. Have it your way. You already know most of it anyway, right?"

"Lacking specific knowledge is a protective measure itself." Valter sighed. "A statement made in ignorance does not count for a lie, after all."

"True."

'This really is the only countermeasure for the Saintess' lie detection.'

Feeling helpless, Reivan once again shrugged. "Suit yourself. I won't be long."

"I will be waiting."

Reivan was such a frequent visitor of the Grimharbor Penitentiary, that at some point, none of the guards even bothered to stand on ceremony. Of course, they still saluted as he passed by, but they didn't escort him around everywhere like he was some special guest — they all knew that he knew where he was going and what he was doing there. So, they mostly left him alone, much to his satisfaction.

After passing through a number of secret passages and taking a few hidden elevators, Reivan finally made it to a relatively normal chamber that was used primarily for research. Bookshelves lined with tomes and cabinets which he knew were crammed full of data records bordered the circular hall, with tables, platforms, and all manner of apparatus in the middle. The walls and floors were white too — or rather, they were originally white.

Frankly, the room was a mess.

Books and sheets of paper were all over the ground and the floor's faded color made it more apparent how dirty it was. There were also vials of questionable liquids rolling around on the ground haphazardly, and one of the tables had seemingly been fashioned into a makeshift bed.

A makeshift bed that the owner of the room wasn't using.

"Professor."

On the floor in front of him, Reivan nudged a sleeping middle-aged man with his foot.

The man stirred but didn't get up, only rolling away from the disturbance. As he did so, the spectacles on his face were crushed by the book he'd been using as a pillow, possibly embedding shards of glass into the man's eyes. If the man noticed or was pained in any way, there was no sign of it.

Reivan sighed at the sight, taking out a golden necklace, featuring the Sun God's sigil on it. Grasping [Frey's Blessing] with his right hand, Reivan held it out to the blissfully unaware old man and willed it into life.

A few seconds later, a halo of light hovered over the professor, showering him with motes of divine energy. The shards of glass embedded into his flesh were pushed out and the wounds on his face closed, eventually healing as if they were never there.

For good measure, Reivan didn't withdraw the halo even after all outward damage had been mended. Once he was sure that the professor would not suffer any permanent damage, he stopped and smirked in satisfaction at his handiwork.

'Practice paid off.'

Possessing the artifact merely allowed him to cast the church's fundamental technique — that didn't mean a layman could do it the moment they touched the artifact. It took a while to figure out, but Reivan eventually did so. All he really had to do was internally praise Sormon in his mind. It worked even though he didn't really mean it.

Singing the church hymns in his head seemed to work wonderfully too.

Done with his little act of charity, Reivan stowed away the priceless artifact given to him by Saintess Frey and used [Formless Will] to pick up and gather all the pieces of glass on the floor, lest the professor stab himself in the eye again. Once he was done, he decided that the sleeping old man wouldn't get up with gentle prodding, so Reivan sent a weak — really, it was very weak — bolt of lightning from his foot that got sucked into the professor's hand.

"Whoa!"

The results were immediate, the professor bolted awake and shot up from the floor.

"Good morning, Professor," Reivan repeated his greeting, pretending as if he hadn't just rudely awakened someone. "I came to visit."

"Ho? Ah, yes..." With his eyes squinted shut and his face twisted as if he'd sucked on a lemon, the professor's hands probed the floor for something. "Glasses..."

"They broke."

"Truly? Goodness, that's the third one this week..."

'Why am I not surprised...'

The professor sighed before he summoned a different pair of glasses from his spatial ring, making Reivan wonder why the man hadn't done that from the very start.

"So it was Prince Reivan!" Finally getting a good look at his guest, the professor sighed in relief. "I thought it was King Roland."

"Would it have been a problem if it was?"

"Of course it would. He's been complaining about the budget this and budget that..."

Reivan frowned. "Wasn't your research funding increased right after my brother took the throne?"

"Well, yes..." The professor nodded sagely, rubbing his chin while mumbling excuses. "But the list of things needed for me to practice my craft is vast... and some materials are more expensive than others... it cannot be helped. It also takes time..."

"Professor Discrimen." Naturally, someone like Reivan could hear such murmurs, especially when it was within sword length. He frowned, not too happy about the implications behind the professor's words. "So you mean to say that you don't have results yet? After all this time? And with near-infinite resources?"

Perhaps sensing the daggers hidden behind his words, Professor Discrimen coughed in embarrassment. "Well, that would depend on what kind of results you are looking for, Your Highness. But I have certainly met with quite a few successes."

Reivan snorted, crossing his arms and looking displeased. "Show me."

"C-Certainly..."

Letting the man lead the way to a relatively well-arranged table, Reivan immediately noticed something strange along the way. He stopped walking for a moment to stare at a few jars in horror.

"Those are..."

"Penises, Your Highness."

"Yes, Professor. I know what those are. I have one as well."

"Men tend to have them most of the time, yes. I got these off a few dead prisoners." Professor Discrimen gestured at the jars disinterestedly, as if it was perfectly fine to have severed male reproductive organs floating in jars of colorful chemicals. "Some are from various animals like bulls and pigs. I wasn't able to get one from dogs, unfortunately. Damned animal laws..."

"Professor..." Reivan massaged his temples and tried not to look at the jars anymore. Since his questions didn't seem like they would be answered if he didn't ask, he had no choice but to push it forward. "Why do you have a bunch of penises inside of jars."

"Well, me and the wife haven't been getting along very well these past few years. So I thought I'd give her a treat."

"...A penis in a jar is your gift?"

"What? Heavens, no." Professor Discrimen shook his head, incredulous. His eyes were focused on arranging his research materials while explaining. "I was researching a short-lived virus that would make a man's member erect for a longer duration than normal, even after climax."

"Is that so? Well, that actually sounds impressi—" Reivan stopped himself when he realized something. "Wait a minute. That's what aphrodisiacs are for."

"Yes, well you see, I realized that too. But perhaps I was much too enthusiastic, so I only realized how pointless the project was after a week of work."

'The people's tax money...'

Reivan took a deep breath and tried to think of happy thoughts, not thoughts of penises in jars. "If the project has been scrapped, why are the... penises still here?"

Professor Discrimen took out a few glass vials and arranged them into a row on the table as he shrugged. "To save costs."

"Save costs, you say...? Explain."

"Yes. One can never know when something can be useful in the future. So I'm keeping them around for that possibility."

"A penis. A severed penis. What could possibly require a human penis? Specifically that part of a man's body, at that."

"Who knows? I mean, a decade ago, I wouldn't have thought the royal family would come to me and ask me to create all kinds of viruses, no?"

"That's..."

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Honestly, Reivan had no answer to that one. The former academy professor had a point. So with a complicated heart, he chose to shut up and place the... objects out of his mind, trying his best not to think about his member in the same state.

'Fuck! I thought about it! Nooooooo!'

Already regretting his visit, Reivan's grimace deepened as he wiped away a bead of cold sweat. "You better have something good by now, Professor..."

"Of course, of course..." Discrimen chuckled sheepishly as he gestured at three vials on the table, each with a clear water-like liquid inside. He then took one of them out and handed it to Reivan. "Please check, Your Highness."

Reivan gave the professor a side eye before examining the vial with [Supreme Insight]. It was cold to the touch, seemingly having some sort of temperature manipulation effect imbued into the container.

[Unnamed Virus]

A somewhat tenacious man-made virus that can survive in gaseous and liquid form. Specifically targets humans with certain ethnicities.

Virus Lifespan Six Months in gaseous form; 10 years in liquid form Elimination Conditions Dies after 24 hours of the host's death or if the first host is not of the target ethnicity. Environmental Limitations Cannot survive outer temperatures of warmer than ten Celsius. Infection Process Breathing in the fumes; Contact with a liquid containing the virus. Lethal Dose 1 gram for every 25 kilograms of body weight. Effects

> Immediately causes rampant perspiration to sap the body of moisture.

> Complete loss of motor skills within 24 hours, eventually inducing cardiac arrest.

'It's an improvement.'

"How is it, Your Highness?" Professor Discrimen asked tentatively, a hopeful expression on his face.

Reivan smiled. "It's a great improvement from last time, Professor. Good work."

"No, not that. I know it's a great improvement." The professor waved off the praise as he inquired. "How has it improved? Please tell me what you can see..."

"The virus' lifespan has improved from a year in gaseous form and thirty-three years in liquid form to six months and ten years. It also perishes in twenty-four hours after its host dies like the last sample."

Discrimen unconsciously pumped a fist at the numbers. Then he cleared his throat and spoke in what he probably thought was a dignified scholarly tone. "That's wonderful news."

Reivan nodded, rolling the vial in his palm. "It survives for too long though."

"Yes, yes. I am aware. So picky..." Discrimen grumbled while ruffling his hair, but was still visibly elated by his results. "These things take time to perfect, Your Highness. In fact, if it weren't for your help, it would take much longer than now! Which is why I'm quite thankful for your visits. It's a huge help."

"Hmm..." Reivan placed the vial back on the table and crossed his arms. "It still doesn't tell me much about which ethnicities are targeted. That is the most important part. Are you sure the kingdom's people will be immune to this?"

"Not a hundred percent sure, no," Discrimen admitted with a slightly wrinkled nose. "I've studied these... genes that the first king mentioned extensively, and I believe I've grown to differentiate royal ones from imperial ones. But I can't be too sure... It's not as if the kingdom has its doors closed to imperial refugees, no?"

"Well, that is true..."

'My highly competent aide is of mixed imperial ancestry, after all.'

In the end, Reivan could only sigh. There simply wasn't something he could do about the fact that imperial blood was mixed in with the kingdom's blood. Perhaps even the royal family had some of it too.

"But..." Professor Discrimen popped the vial open and dipped a pinky in it. The movement was done with such nonchalance that Reivan was unable to react in time, frozen and dumbfounded at the act.

He didn't stay that way for long though. Once he realized what the professor had done, he couldn't help but bellow at the top of his lungs. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?"

"Goodness. Such a loud voice..."

"You just dipped your fucking finger in the... That's a lethal virus!"

"Relax, Your Highness." Professor Discrimen chuckled. "How else can I prove that its damage is under my control? The greatest way to prove it would be to test it on myself!"

Reivan massaged the bridge of his nose. "Professor. That's what the prisoners are for. I believe I've made sure to send you a large supply..."

"Don't worry, don't worry. See? Nothing happened. I am proud to have pure Aizenian ancestry. My father, my father's father, and his father... and all the fathers before that? All of them were scholars. Born and raised in the kingdom. Why, and I mean no offense by this, my blood is probably more Aizenian than yours, Your Highness! You're part warbeast after all. My blood was also partly what I used when training the virus."

"There might still be a chance that you'll pass them on to someone else."

'Welp. There goes my plans to drag him out of here... Wait, was that his plan all along? Does he not want to go home that much? Surely not...'

"Average temperatures in Aizen are more moderate than in the empire, so the virus would die quickly the moment it spends too much time outside of the vial. And without a suitable host, of course."

"Even so. Please refrain from such reckless demonstrations. My brother likely won't like it either."

"Ah... Yes, Your Highness. I shall take heed of your advice." Professor Discrimen immediately lost all resistance. "But look? Nothing happened to me."

"Wasn't it because of the temperature?"

"No. That is just for when it's airborne or... waterborne? Is that the word? English is hard... In any case, the moment the virus meets a potential host, the temperature stops mattering."

"I see. I believe that's information that you should include in the briefing, Professor. I just found out about that now."

"Ah, my apologies... Anyway, after obtaining a host, the virus will then start producing more of itself through the host and spread it around through the air the host breathes out. This goes on until the fifth generation."

Reivan sat on a nearby chair and crossed his arms. "And the fifth generation no longer reproduces?"

"Yes. The fifth generation focuses on lethality, rather than survivability and infection. The time it takes to kill the host will also be reduced drastically."

"I see. Amazing..."

'It's good Father found this guy before he used his talents for something else.'

Reivan stared at the messy-haired sloppy middle-aged man. Apparently, a decade or two ago, Discrimen had been discredited by the academy for his eccentric tendencies and research about viruses of all things. It would have been fine if his research had been about eradicating them or creating vaccines.

But nope. The madman wanted to make viruses.

Whether the viruses could actually be called viruses was up for debate though.

Among his first samples was a virus that apparently acted out a role similar to white blood cells, attacking harmful foreign substances that got inside the body. Then there was another virus that, strangely, latched onto hair follicles and stimulated growth. It all sounded quite impressive at first, but there were various side effects such as sweating uncontrollably or having headaches — in other words, those infected actually got sick.

The academy, an upright institution of learning and academic excellence, naturally wouldn't approve of a study into spreading disease — even if the negative side was just a side effect of the positive effects. That said, the man's passion and goodwill came through, which was why Rodin had secreted the man away and financed the scholar's research. For the outside world though, Professor Discremen vanished after losing his status as a professor in the academy.

'Wow. Now that I think about it, it could all have gone downhill, huh?'

Reivan could easily picture a scenario where Professor Discrimen, after being repeatedly shunned and called out for his eccentrics, would become depressed or even grow to resent the academy. And one did not need to be a genius to imagine what he could have done in that mental state.

Of course, the priests of Sormon were everywhere in Aizen. And at his core, despite all his strangeness, the professor was a patriotic soul with a good heart to help the people in his own way.

'Maybe that's why Father took a chance with him.'

Reivan heaved one final sigh for the day before he nodded. "You've done very well, Professor. I suppose the anti-esper virus you created for us wasn't a fluke."

The professor lit up at the praise, even bowing a little in embarrassment. "I haven't fine-tuned that one enough. I still think I can improve it further. But I'm glad the royal family had finally acknowledged my craft."

"Your craft... Hm. Well, yes. Anyway..." Reivan gestured at the vial of death, which had already been resealed. "What's this one called?"

"What is what called?" Discrimen tilted his head, a mannerism that looked terribly uncute when done by a middle-aged man with an afro.

"The virus."

"The virus? What about it?"

Reivan's brows furrowed. "It's name, Professor. I asked what you want to call the virus."

"A name...?" The professor also frowned, seemingly perplexed. "Does it have to have a name?"

"Well, we can't very well just call it the virus all the time, now can we?"

"I suppose you have a point, Your Highness. I plan to create more useful viruses for the kingdom's benefit, after all."

"Yes. Hence, a name. It needs to be differentiated from your other creations, no?" Reivan shook his head, exasperated. "Perhaps go for something with more flair. You just named the last one Anti-esper Virus, after all. How incredibly boring."

"I didn't name it that though..."

'The hell are you even saying? No one can name shit unless they're the creator.'

But then again, Reivan thought, perhaps the professor had mentally given the virus a temporary name and it just stuck. Then the system that governed [Supreme Insight] acknowledged it as its actual name.

'All hypotheses though. I don't know shit about that ability.'

With his recent discoveries about [Glimpse of Eternity], Reivan now understood less about [Supreme Insight] than [Glimpse of Eternity] — his two most secretive special gifts. Reivan shook off his idle thoughts and looked back at the professor.

"Anyway." Reivan crossed his arms and inclined his chin impatiently. "Go on, professor. Come up with a name."

"I must confess that I'm horrible at this sort of thing, Your Highness." Discrimen scratched his cheek with a sheepish smile on his face. "I usually have my wife name the kids, for one thing."

"Well... I suppose I can relate to being bad at naming things. So I won't force you." Reivan sighed and stared at the vial for a moment before he was struck with an idea. "Oh, I know."

"What do you know, Your Highness? Is it something good? Is it a new idea for a virus I can develop?"

"No. We're still talking about the name, Professor. Please focus. Anyway, I just thought that we should name the virus after you."

'I'm a genius.'

Wasn't it common in his old world for animal species and even stars to be named after who found them? It was a perfect, stress-free way to name something. Too bad he probably couldn't use it too many times for his future kids. He couldn't imagine his family's reaction if he named his kids Reivan Jr., Reivan II, Reivan III, Reivan IV, and so on.

'Reivana if it's a girl...'

"Me...?" Professor Discrimen seemed puzzled for a moment before his eyes sparkled in excitement. "The virus will be named after me? Such a wonderful thing... is that really okay? Is that even allowed...!?"

"You seem oddly excited about this." Reivan chuckled before shrugging. "Why wouldn't it be okay? You developed this virus, no?"

"Well, yes... But I would have never reached this far without the royal family's support... Perhaps we should name it after the king instead..."

"Doesn't matter. My brother likely won't mind. In any case... since using your name flat out might expose you, let's go with Crimen. The Crimen Virus. Like it?"

There was a moment of silence as the professor trembled with what was probably elation. But restraint was lost on the shaggy man, and he eventually slammed his fists on the table with a wide smile.

"I love it, Your Highness. Thank you!" Professor Discrimen picked up the vial and laughed creepily as he stroked it like a woman's milky skin. "To think... That even after I pass from this world, my name will be immortalized in the form of a virus. There's nothing else a man can ask for!"

"Er... Well, let's not generalize, Professor..." Reivan felt somewhat conflicted about the man's words but ultimately decided that he didn't want to rain on Discrimen's parade.

'This guy... He has so much potential as a villain, it's actually scary.'

"Congratulations, Professor. Let's hope its new name acts as a good luck charm of sorts. Hopefully, it's perfected very soon."

"Oh, don't you worry, Your Highness!" Discrimen nodded with great enthusiasm. "My heart has never felt so full and my mind has never been clearer. I swear I'll complete this virus within the year! Then we can kill a whole bunch of the kingdom's enemies! A whole bunch! Wahahahahaha! We'll kill them all!"

"Uh, yes... But please remember that we don't actually plan to use this virus as much as possible. The empire's citizens will be our citizens in the far-off future, after all. There's no point in committing a genocide. This is a deterrent, okay? A weapon that's not supposed to be used."

"Of course, of course! But still! Just think of all the enemies that could just die from this! Surely, my name will be spoken of in history alongside such a great feat! How thrilling! Glory to the Aizen! And long live King Rodin!"

"My brother is the king now."

"Oh! Of course, of course... My apologies. I haven't adjusted yet."

"...Well, in any case, please take care of your health while you're down here. You cannot serve the kingdom if you collapse or die of exhaustion."

"Such compassion for a lowly scholar... I will take your words to heart, Your Highness. I will definitely pace myself properly but still deliver the virus safely within this year. Maybe next year... or the year after next? Ah, but I will work hard and succeed! And we'll kill all the enemies! Kill 'em all!"

"...Yes. Good luck, Professor."

'I'm so glad Father found this guy before he did something...'

Truly, in more ways than he could list, Rodin was a blessing to Aizen.