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The Rebirth of the Purple Phoenix

In a world ravaged by chaos and loneliness, John's life lacked purpose and meaning. The constant protests outside his apartment mirrored the turmoil within him, their noise a haunting reminder of the unrest he couldn't escape. Lost in unemployment and isolation, John sought refuge in virtual realms, where he could momentarily escape reality. Yet, his existence felt empty, like an abandoned canvas waiting for a painter's touch. With each passing day, he robotically navigated life, seeking something more. In an unexpected twist of events, a sudden explosion shattered his life, leaving him floating in a mysterious void. As panic threatened to consume him, an otherworldly voice offered him an enigmatic opportunity—to rewrite his destiny, to embrace a higher purpose. With unwavering determination, John accepted the offer, and a blinding light transported him to a new reality. His consciousness had returned, but his senses felt foreign, devoid of sight. Instead, he sensed momentous events unfolding—a significant figure being born, destined to become the emperor of a crumbling empire. John VIII Palaiologos, a historical figure tasked with confronting the mighty Ottoman Empire, was now the role he inhabited. As he grappled with his newfound identity and the weight of his responsibilities, he realized that his journey had just begun. The fate of an empire rested on his shoulders, and he was determined to shape history in a way that would bring hope and transformation to his world. --------------------------------------------- [Author Note:] Updates: 3-4 chapters/week *Miss me? Don't be, I'll be much busier than last time, but do try to write, somehow, I might be a tad below my chapters expectation for a couple of weeks depending on how busy I am.* Cheers!

lordgsh · History
Not enough ratings
62 Chs

Tales in the Wind, and Immortality Endures

[Constantinople, Byzantine Empire]

Along the Mese, renowned as the city's 'central thoroughfare,' there stood an unassuming edifice.

Its appearance was far from striking, neither particularly attractive nor unpleasant, serving as a stark contrast to the surrounding architectural splendors.

Concealed within these walls lay John's closely guarded secret—a mystery veiled in utmost secrecy, known solely to a select few, including his most trusted confidants and himself.

None beyond this inner circle were privy to its nature or its hidden significance.

Within the edifice's ground floor, an assortment of ordinary goods adorned its shelves, ranging from exotic skulls to intricately carved statues and unique ornaments found nowhere else.

The shopkeeper, outwardly unassuming and nonchalant, exuded an eerie demeanor that sent shivers down the spine of each customer who crossed the threshold.

Yet, the true marvels were concealed beneath the shop itself, hidden within a well-dug dungeon. This place held the genuine significance.

It was a well-equipped laboratory unlike any other in the city or, indeed, the world of its era. It boasted sophisticated equipment and tools, far ahead of its time.

Within the laboratory, several peculiar individuals, dressed in attire that appeared almost otherworldly, moved about, manipulating items sealed in glass-like tubes and delving into unusual texts.

Upon the tables, one could find an array of notes, papers, and devices reminiscent of modern laboratory apparatus, albeit with a somewhat crude and inefficient quality befitting its era.

Nevertheless, the setup closely mirrored that of a laboratory found in most modern universities, featuring flasks, beakers, Bunsen burners, burette stands, and racks housing test tubes.

Ingredients were stored either in the cabinets on the dungeon's ceilings or below, creating an atmosphere so sophisticated and pungent that anyone entering the room might mistake it for the lair of a cultist.

"Ibrahim, have you completed the assignment I entrusted to you before my departure? Is there any progress?"

"Ya sahidi, as per your request, we have been diligently working on it. However, the initial experiment indicates a mere 30% desired effectiveness, and I am concerned that the limited time available may not significantly improve it, which is why..."

"30%? Does it halt the spread within the host?"

"Indeed, it would, but that would require an extensive amount of observations, as the side effects and the potency of the drug remain elusive to us at the moment."

"Then, for now, I want you to synthesize the drug specifically to prevent further spread. Additionally, I expect the development of a cure to be ready."

Upon hearing this, Ibrahim began to sweat profusely. He couldn't comprehend what had put John in such a state of anxiety.

It might sound simple in words, but developing two different kinds of medicine was no less challenging than living two lifetimes in succession, especially when it pertained to the 'Black Death,' a mysterious plague that had eluded a cure throughout history.

Ibrahim, in particular, stood out as the most crucial individual enlisted by John.

Hailing from the Syrian town of Aleppo, Ibrahim was a native Syrian Arab and a passionate alchemist with aspirations of transmuting lead into gold, just like the alchemists who preceded him.

His introduction to John occurred during the latter's pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

At that time, as part of his sacred journey to the 'Holy City,' John, accompanied by his comrades Demetrius, Pavlos, and Nikos, was on a mission to seek out alchemists throughout the Middle East. Ibrahim became one of the initial recruits, and another was Ibrahim's own apprentice.

During their first encounter, Ibrahim was captivated by the knowledge and wisdom of the young co-emperor, though he remained unaware of John's true identity as a monarch of an empire.

Like unassuming travelers, John and his companions purposefully maintained a low profile to avoid drawing attention from their surroundings.

Initially, John recruited Ibrahim for the specific purpose of manufacturing gunpowder, a strategic trump card he would later wield in his war against the Ottoman Empire.

Ibrahim, possessing the essential knowledge to craft gunpowder, had acquired it from an associate within the court of the Mamluk Sultanate.

Over time, Ibrahim became an invaluable asset to John, and, with him by his side, John's vision for a world where science could solve any problem began to take shape.

Gunpowder was merely the first step; his next challenge was to combat the elusive assassin known as 'The Black Death.'

Before the war against the Ottomans, John assigned Ibrahim to his next project: the development of something he called an 'antibiotic,' a medicine similar to the one from his previous life that was reputed to be effective against the plague's bacteria.

John had meticulously listed every ingredient necessary for creating this medicine, along with detailed descriptions, composition, and properties.

However, he soon realized that his team of alchemists, while skilled in their craft, lacked the purely scientific knowledge required for such an endeavor. It took some time for him to bridge this knowledge gap.

John couldn't simply dismiss the alchemists by asserting that transmuting lead into gold was an unattainable feat, even modern chemists were perplexed by this elusive transformation, as the technology and discoveries of the time still fell short.

Although the aspiration had been occasionally revived, it remained a formidable challenge.

John, known for his remarkable and unwavering memory that had accompanied him since childhood, diligently stored every piece of research he encountered over the years. His daily routine was a tireless endeavor, involving the meticulous transcription of his vast knowledge.

Every discovery, methodology, and configuration was painstakingly recorded, with every ounce of his intellect pouring onto the pages. Subsequently, these documents were presented to the alchemists working under his guidance.

Initially, the alchemists were perplexed by the dense content presented by their co-leader. However, they couldn't help but be enthralled by the potential for advancement in their craft.

Their ambitions reached beyond the mere pursuit of turning base metals into gold; they aspired to attain the mythical "Philosopher's Stone," the legendary magnum opus of chemistry that had remained elusive through the centuries.

John included this concept because he recognized that, during that era, alchemists aimed to create grand works rather than seek actual immortality, and the term itself had already become ingrained over the centuries.

He felt guilty about harnessing this ambition to further his own goals at the time.

One fervent believer in this myth was Ibrahim.

At one point, he even believed that humanity could achieve immortality, despite this notion conflicting with his religious principles.

The texts provided by John for these legendary works rekindled his long-held dreams, compelling him to take action.

Occasionally, he and the other alchemists strived towards the ultimate goal of creating the 'Philosopher's Stone.'

However, John had a different idea.

"To achieve immortality, we must first focus on restoration,"

he told the diverse group of alchemists he had assembled.

"Restoration comes through medicine. Our world is plagued by numerous illnesses, diseases, and ailments that currently have no cure. Therefore, I believe that before we attempt the impossible, we should provide the potential for it to become a reality by curing every known disease that afflicts mankind in the present."

This marked the dawn of a new era in John's time, an epoch often informally referred to as the Byzantine Age of Enlightenment.

This period stood as an unprecedented chapter in the annals of history, reigniting a profound interest in scientific pursuits and ushering in an age where knowledge triumphed over the prevailing darkness of ignorance.

It preceded the actual era during which Europe would eventually undergo its own transformation, leaping ahead of the periods that came before it. Europe had yet to experience the Renaissance, as the Byzantine Empire had not yet fallen, and since it stood, it would never come to pass.

However, that story belongs to another time, as it unfolds in the later stages of John's enduring reign as the rightful Basileus.

"Your Highness!"

Demetrius rushed over, urgently beckoning John and interrupting his conversation with Ibrahim. He seemed visibly distressed, catching the young co-emperor off guard.

"Lady Anna has fallen into a state of shock, her body convulsing uncontrollably," he reported, "the physician says her condition is deteriorating."

Upon hearing this distressing news, John's expression grew somber. He swiftly left the laboratory, making his way through the bustling streets of Mese towards the grand cathedral and the hospital compound beyond.

As he arrived, John noticed Igor pacing anxiously outside the hospital, his face etched with worry. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he waited for someone.

This sight immediately alarmed John, and he approached Igor with deep concern.

Ivar, his lips as dry as an earthen vase, pursed them and said, "Her Highness suddenly coughed up blood, as black as ink, and her body shook uncontrollably. I don't understand what the physicians said, but I know it's not a good sign."

"Dammit!" John cursed inwardly.

He had not anticipated that after days of dormancy, the symptoms would finally emerge.

This realization had eluded him until this very morning. John had been visiting Anna and engaging in warm conversations with her as part of their daily routine.

He had grown complacent, assuming her condition would remain stable until the cure was completed. This complacency had led to the current situation.

In an attempt to grasp the gravity of the situation, he entered the building, leaving Demetrius and Ivar outside, their expressions reflecting profound concern.

As John approached the room where Anna was, a nun intercepted him.

"Your Highness, it is too perilous to enter without proper protective gear at this moment. Her Highness is in a critical condition, and Father Andreas is doing everything in his power to stabilize her."

Anxiety etched in his voice, John inquired, "Can you brief me on the situation? Are her symptoms worsening or remaining the same?"

"For now, we're uncertain," the nun patiently responded.

"Father Andreas believes her elevated body temperature led to her sudden bout of coughing up blood. Initial examinations haven't revealed any progression in her symptoms. Father Andreas can provide more information."

With patience, John waited for Father Andreas to exit the room where Anna lay. Father Andreas was the physician whom John had entrusted with her care.

Not long after, the priest emerged from the room, looking pale as if he was about to faint.

"Father Andreas!" John called out loudly, causing the exhausted priest to jolt. As he saw John approaching, he lifted his hand forward, urging the co-emperor to stop.

"Your Highness, don't come near! Please stay where you are!"

John paused, clearly confused but eventually understood what the priest meant. At a distance of ten paces apart, he finally asked, "So, what is actually happening?"

"*Sigh* Her Highness's condition is not good. It seems as though the plague tried to probe her, and while the symptoms haven't progressed much, the disease suddenly attacked her, as if trying to see whether she can muster any fight left in her."

John remained quiet to let the priest finish.

"Fortunately, Her Highness fought back, but that led to her coughing as much blood as she could afford. At this point, she has entered a state of unconsciousness; I don't know if she could wake up at any moment."

Father Andreas replied in a dry tone, probably due to his exhaustion and his grim observation.

John, however, was in a state of shock. 'Comatose?'

"So, Your Holiness, does that mean she is at least stable for now? Can I see her?"

"Totally not, Your Highness. I'm not recommending you see her at the current moment due to the uncertainty of the disease's spread. For now, we wait, and by God's will, until she wakes up."

The priest subtly interrupted John and addressed his concerns, causing John to be in a foul mood.

After several more discussions, both of them parted ways.

John's frustration was palpable as he clenched his fists so tightly that his palms began to bleed.

He left the hospital building reluctantly, stealing glances at the room where Anna lay several times as he departed.

At this point, there was nothing he could do. He felt as helpless as a newborn.

Ivar and Demetrius, who had been engaged in their own conversation outside, noticed the crestfallen co-emperor exiting the building and rushed over to him immediately.

"So, Your Highness? How is she?" Ivar asked with concern, but John remained unresponsive, his head spinning as the questions were posed.

Without replying to the burly Rus', he turned to Demetrius.

"Demetrius, summon Pavlos and Nikos to the 'shop'."

"Understood, Your Highness," Demetrius replied with a clear understanding, then left to carry out John's orders, leaving John and Igor behind.

Turning to Ivar, John spoke briefly and without offering any explanations.

"For now, follow me..."

Bewildered, Ivar could only nod in agreement, refraining from asking any further questions, including the one he had previously posed that remained unanswered.