Chapter 753: Qyburn

"This is His Imperial Majesty the Emperor!"

The Unsullied commander brandished his spear and sternly reminded, "Your Majesty." Though court etiquette was more relaxed here, directly addressing the emperor by name remained a grave discourtesy.

"Your Majesty," Victarion quickly corrected himself, voice dipping lower with newfound awe.

"Can you make me lucid again?"

Barely containing his excitement, Victarion asked the question burning inside him.

Initially after contracting this arcane curse, he hadn't worried. But despair gradually set in as reversal proved impossible, the changes unstoppable. He could only watch himself transform into a monster, step by step.

Until finally, he lost all sanity on the battlefield, becoming a mindless killing machine.

Yet Viserys had undone it all, restoring his mind. Though forever trapped in this hybrid form, at least Victarion was still himself—retaining his identity instead of devolving into a bloodthirsty aberration. How could that not thrill him?

Lost in thought, Viserys glanced up at Victarion's voice, eyes flickering. He nodded.

"Yes, I can."

"But I will need your cooperation with some matters."

The crux to deciphering the black mist ultimately lay in re-exploring Valyria's ruins, or delving into one of the bottomless pits once suppressed by the old gods beyond the Wall.

But the winds of winter neared, and Viserys sensed the northern foe amassing power for another invasion.

Aside from actively preparing for war, he had no time to go exploring perilous sites, least of all one whose dangers only he fully grasped.

Moreover, resisting the White Walkers weighed solely on his shoulders. Viserys could abandon his painstakingly built empire and flee with his family, yet the human world depended on him to remain.

With winter nigh, his sudden disappearance was too calamitous to contemplate. The Cold God doubtlessly meant to crush all resistance this time, after ages of accumulation.

As mankind's last beacon of hope, Viserys naturally couldn't desert his duty. He would have to pinpoint a breakthrough from Victarion instead.

Hopefully his afflicted body held secrets.

After long rumination, Viserys finally spoke.

"Summon Qyburn."

That afternoon, within the Red Keep...

A syringe as thick as an infant's arm pierced Victarion's skin, extracting a tube of dark liquid—his blood, which might look ruddy under direct sunlight but remained deep hued in this dim room.

"Your Majesty, I have gathered samples of Lord Victarion's blood and other attributes."

The white-haired old maester held several sealed vials of blood, mucus, and scales from the merman monster. Victarion stared unpleasantly at him in response.

The overt zeal in the elder's gaze just now disturbed even this hardened straight man.

Qyburn had eyed Victarion like he was beholding an unmatched beauty or priceless treasure.

"However...I fear certain necessary 'materials' are still required, Your Majesty."

After storing his samples, Qyburn didn't immediately take his leave. Instead, he further petitioned Viserys.

The 'materials' Qyburn needed could be found in King's Landing's black market, which he frequented for replenishing his stock. Rumors had even circulated about a mad maester dissecting corpses. Public protests led by agitated smallfolk had demanded sanctions against him from the Iron Throne and Faith, albeit unsuccessfully.

But this experiment was no mundane affair. Qyburn likely sought more than just dead bodies now.

Viserys silently pondered a moment before permitting Qyburn to select some death row convicts from the dungeons.

For all the ideals of this modern world, condemned prisoners truly lacked any human rights, having committed unpardonable atrocities. Their death warrants underwent extensive review until the Imperial Minister of Justice himself authorized immediate execution.

Seeing Viserys acquiesce, delight suffused Qyburn's craggy face.

Live experimentation absolutely violated civilized ethics, so Viserys had expressly forbidden Qyburn from pursuing it without cause, much less harming innocents. But capital offenders were excluded.

"Your Majesty," the hunchbacked elder with white hair and a wrinkled face bowed and took his leave, mute assistant in tow.

No one wished to associate with the likes of Qyburn. Even his colleague Archmaester Ambrose scorned him.

But Viserys had permitted Qyburn a place in the Imperial Medical Academy, along with a fully-equipped, generously funded private lab for his solitary studies on medicine, anatomy, and magic.

Influenced by Archmage Marwyn, Qyburn also somewhat grasped necromantic arts, making him quite the unorthodox multifaceted researcher.

As for the deaf-mute assistant, Qyburn had rescued him from destitution during a supply run and informally adopted the abandoned boy, raising him all these years while grooming him as a disciple.

With too much weighing on his plate, unlocking Victarion's condition was now critical for Viserys to unravel the black mist enigma.

He had even considered capturing some abyssal creatures from Valyria for research, but ultimately judged the endeavor too risky and uncertain. Yet now, one had fortuitously delivered itself.

Asha Greyjoy truly hadn't disappointed him.

By securing samples of Victarion's bodily fluids and attributes, Qyburn could focus his investigation on the infection and transformation process.

Could such abyssal monsters be artificially produced?