“Everything looks normal,” one of Atlas’s technicians said.

  A large monitor beside the sensory tank displayed Jacob’s vitals and stimulus responses. Lines moved steadily across the screen.

  Atlas folded his arms while studying the data.

  Peter stood beside him, silent.

  Atlas finally spoke.

  “You had unrealistic expectations.”

  Peter didn’t respond.

  Atlas glanced at him.

  “You married a regular. Expecting your son to inherit your adaptive sensitivity as a half-blood is… I know it is harsh to say, but borderline delusional.”

  Peter shrugged slightly.

  “I just wanted to check. Genetically, it should still be possible.”

  “It’s a recessive trait,” Atlas replied. “Half-bloods already have a disadvantage.”

  He softened his tone.

  “Every parent hopes their kid will be exceptional.”

  Peter sighed.

  “Just focus on the test.”

  Atlas raised his hands in surrender.

  “Fair enough.”

  A technician spoke from the control console.

  “Stimulus phase complete. Buffer agent fully absorbed.”

  A few seconds later, several enlarged charts appeared on the main screen.

  Atlas leaned closer.

  “Hmm.”

  He rubbed his beard.

  “Well, this is interesting.”

  Peter looked up.

  “What?”

  “His singular sensitivity is excellent,” Atlas said. “Much better than expected.”

  He tapped the screen.

  “Aggregate sensitivity is below full-blood average, but that’s normal for a half-blood.”

  Another chart appeared.

  “His adaptive dampening isn’t bad either. Actually… It’s pretty solid.”

  Atlas nodded slowly.

  “You should be proud. Most half-bloods don’t perform this well.”

  Peter simply smirked. Atlas noticed. That wasn’t the reaction he expected. Before he could question it, another technician spoke from behind the monitors.

  “Sir… I should mention something.”

  Atlas turned.

  “What is it?”

  “I had to recalibrate the comparison charts.”

  “Why?”

  The technician hesitated.

  “At first I used half-blood reference data… but his readings distorted the graphs.”

  Atlas frowned.

  “So?”

  “I switched the comparison to full-blood immortal data.”

  The room went quiet.

  Atlas immediately stepped toward the console and began scrolling through the raw numbers.

  Peter remained where he stood, with a smile.

  After a moment, Atlas leaned back in disbelief.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “You’re serious.”

  Peter chuckled softly.

  “What did I tell you?”

  Atlas stared at him.

  “What exactly did you do with that kid?”

  “Nothing extreme,” Peter replied casually. “Just some conditioning rituals from the northern clans.”

  Atlas thought for a moment.

  “That explains the adaptive dampening.”

  He pointed at the screen again.

  “But this level of singular sensitivity…”

  He shook his head.

  “You can’t train that overnight.”

  Peter crossed his arms proudly.

  “He’s my son.”

  Atlas laughed quietly.

  “Fair enough.”

  He turned back toward the monitor.

  “The bad news is he didn’t inherit your aggregate sensitivity.”

  Peter waved that off.

  “And the good news?”

  “He’s exceptionally strong in singular perception.”

  Peter looked satisfied.

  For him, that was more than enough.

  Atlas was about to continue analyzing the charts when a technician shouted from the monitoring station.

  “Sir!”

  Everyone turned.

  “I need you over here.”

  Atlas walked toward the console.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The mana and ultra radiation tests started normally… but something changed.”

  Peter moved toward the tank.

  “What do you mean by ' changed?”

  The technician pointed to the screen.

  “His heart rate just spiked.”

  The graph climbed violently.

  “And his blood pressure.”

  Another spike.

  Atlas frowned.

  “Is it panic?”

  “Maybe at first,” the technician said. “But now he’s—”

  A loud BANG echoed through the room.

  Everyone froze.

  The technician swallowed.

  “He’s hitting the tank.”

  Another BANG shook the glass.

  Peter rushed toward the sensory chamber. Atlas followed.

  “What’s happening in there?” Peter demanded.

  “We lost visual feeds!” the technician shouted. “The cameras were knocked loose!”

  Another impact rattled the room.

  Atlas shouted instructions.

  “Keep recording vitals!”

  Then he turned to Peter.

  “Help me remove the mirror panel!”

  They rushed to the side of the tank and pulled off the protective cover shielding the observation window. Another BANG echoed from inside. Cracks spread across the reinforced glass.

  “Jacob!” Peter shouted.

  Before either man could react—

  The glass exploded.

  Water surged out of the tank.

  Jacob burst through the shattered window with another desperate strike. The force knocked both Atlas and Peter backward as the tank emptied across the floor. Peter immediately grabbed his son as Jacob collapsed. Atlas rushed to seal the shattered panel to prevent further flooding.

  When the chaos settled, Peter looked down at Jacob.

  He was unconscious. Both of his hands were mangled. Deep cuts covered his arms and chest.

  But as Peter watched, the wounds began to close. Slowly. Then faster.

  Within seconds, most of the cuts had already sealed. Atlas approached, kneeling beside them.

  “Let me see him.”

  Peter carefully rolled Jacob onto his back. Atlas checked his pulse.

  “Vitals are stable.”

  He examined Jacob’s hands.

  “The bones are shattered… but they’re already healing.”

  Peter exhaled in relief.

  “How long?”

  “Couple of hours.”

  Atlas stood and glanced back at the destroyed tank.

  “I’ve never seen anyone react that violently to the mana radiation test.”

  Peter rubbed his face. “I’m sorry about the damage.”

  Atlas waved it off.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Then he added thoughtfully,

  “At least we learned something.”

  Peter looked up.

  “What?”

  “Your son definitely isn’t compatible with the Ultra or Mana pathways.” Atlas frowned slightly.

  “And that reaction… it was more like resistance than rejection.” He shook his head.

  “I’ll need time to analyze the data.”

  Peter nodded.

  “Understood.”

  Atlas gestured toward the recovery rooms.

  “Want to leave him here until he wakes up?”

  Peter shook his head.

  “I’ll take him home.”

  After dressing Jacob in a hospital gown, Peter carried him toward the exit.

  Atlas remained behind, staring at the destroyed tank.

  Peter stopped beside him before leaving. “Sorry again.”

  Atlas sighed. “This thing costs a fortune.”

  Peter handed him a business card. “Call that number.”

  Atlas looked at it. “And say?”

  “Our old code phrase. Then my name.”

  Atlas frowned. “What for?”

  “They’ll replace the equipment.”

  Atlas shrugged.“We already have another tank.”

  Peter smiled slightly. “I’m not talking about just the tank.”

  Atlas blinked. “The entire room?”

  Peter nodded. “Latest generation.”

  Atlas stared at him. “Even a gravity gyroscope?”

  Peter chuckled. “And a few other toys.”

  Atlas shook his head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous.”

  Peter adjusted Jacob’s weight in his arms. “Consider it repayment.”

  Then he walked toward the exit.

  Atlas watched him go.

  And quietly wondered what exactly had happened inside that tank.