"Even if a test fails, there's no need to lose your composure like that, is there? Even I could tell you were in a terrible mood, to say nothing of the researchers. Everyone in that room was walking on eggshells."
Back in the main office, the Doctor perched on the edge of her desk, staring down at the Feline sitting across from her. Only now, away from the eyes of her staff, did Kal'tsit finally allow a flicker of deep exhaustion to cross her features.
Ever since the Doctor's prolonged absence, Kal'tsit had been forced to shoulder an overwhelming array of responsibilities. Whether rendering high-level strategic decisions, performing critical surgeries, or driving clinical research forward, she had squeezed her personal rest down to almost nothing.
The Doctor didn't know the exact details of her daily routine, but a quick glance at her surgical schedule revealed that Kal'tsit hadn't slept more than two hours a day for weeks.
"Are you trying to give yourself a sudden heart attack?" the Doctor grumbled, snatching the scheduling tablet directly out of Kal'tsit's hands. Without waiting for consent, she immediately reassigned Kal'tsit's next three scheduled operations to other staff. "You can pretend your fatigue doesn't exist all you want, but for the sake of the patients, I'm handing these over to Warfarin. She's been far too idle anyway."
After all, human resource allocations on this landship fell directly under the Doctor's domain.
"Besides, your research didn't fail—it simply hit a few logical blind spots." The Doctor slid her Terminal across the desk, displaying the annotated notes Jeanne had sent over. "Look at this. With this many fundamental oversights, expecting a flawless prototype on your first attempt would have been sheer fantasy."
Kal'tsit picked up the device and stared silently at the complex pattern of structural flaws Jeanne had mapped out. For a long while, she said nothing, quietly recording every single note into her mental ledger.
"Frankly speaking," Kal'tsit said at last, her voice low, "I prefer not to rely on methods that defy scientific explanation. Easy shortcuts create dangerous dependencies, and that is a net negative for our long-term progress..."
"If you don't want to use it, don't use it," the Doctor shot back, rolling her eyes. "Someone literally handed you a complete breakdown of your errors, and here you are complaining about the delivery method."
The retort left Kal'tsit momentarily speechless. She sat in silence, staring intently at the annotated diagram as the messy, tangled calculations in her head suddenly began snapping into place with miraculous clarity.
The exact areas requiring adjustment had been clearly flagged by Jeanne. Working backward from those proven endpoints, revising the chemical formulas suddenly became straightforward.
In an instant, Kal'tsit sank back into her familiar, hyper-focused research trance. The outside world ceased to exist for her; only the paper before her and the pen in her hand held any meaning.
She was so utterly absorbed that when a high-priority encrypted message chimed on her Terminal, she didn't react in the slightest. The Doctor tried calling her name several times to point out the incoming transmission, but received zero response.
Fearing it might be an urgent operational crisis, the Doctor hesitantly reached over to inspect the screen to determine if immediate executive action was required.
Then her eyes caught the sender's signature, and her hand froze mid-air.
The message came from... Theresa.
It was a name the Doctor had heard countless times, yet she had still never properly met the legendary Lord of Fiends face-to-face since waking from her pod.
Every time Kal'tsit made a trip to Kazdel, she deliberately left the Doctor behind on the landship under the pretext that someone needed to oversee operations on the home front. Deep down, however, the Doctor knew Kal'tsit simply wasn't ready for that meeting to take place.
It undoubtedly tied back to the vast gaps in her lost memories. Though the Doctor was gradually piecing her past together, she was in no rush to force an encounter. When the right moment arrived, they would meet naturally.
That was a quiet understanding she shared with Kal'tsit, and she trusted her colleague's judgment. Sweeping those lingering thoughts aside, the Doctor opened the file and began reading the message thoroughly.
"Good day, Kal'tsit.
"A considerable amount of time has passed since your last visit to Kazdel. Rebuilding efforts have progressed smoothly over these past months, and it brings me immense joy to watch our nation regain its vitality.
"Furthermore, foreign powers have turned their attention toward the situation in Iberia. Major nations have agreed to dispatch expeditionary forces to gauge the true threat level of the emerging crisis.
"This represents an invaluable opportunity for us. As more foreign troops enter the region, we will rely heavily on the Shapeshifter to identify covert infiltration attempts..."
The bulk of the message detailed Kazdel's steady internal development. While fascinating, it contained little that called for emergency measures.
The Doctor skimmed ahead toward the final paragraphs. But as her eyes scanned the concluding lines, her expression shifted from calm interest to pure shock. Without a second thought, she slapped the back of Kal'tsit's head with her open hand, instantly holding up the Terminal screen before the Feline could explode in fury.
The sudden physical shock vanished from Kal'tsit's mind the instant her eyes caught the text. She grabbed the terminal and read the paragraph with cold, intense focus.
"Are they completely out of their minds?!" the Doctor burst out. "Kazdel intends to send Theresis as their official representative?! They finally managed to capture that man, and now they're just releasing him back into the field?!"
Meanwhile, in another section of the landship, Jeanne encountered someone who took her entirely by surprise.
Executor, an official operative from the Laterano Notarial Hall, stood before her in the hallway. He was currently attached to Rhodes Island under an auxiliary contractor agreement—functioning much like a mercenary, free to accept or decline assignments at his own discretion.
The Sankta had sought Jeanne out specifically to deliver classified updates regarding Laterano, as well as the current progress of the coalition forces assembling for the Iberian front.
"The situation in Iberia is deteriorating?" Jeanne asked, catching the subtle gravity in his usually monotone delivery. The assembly process sounded far more bogged down than anticipated.
"Numerous continental powers remain unwilling to commit their standing armies," Executor explained neutrally. "Their rulers harbor deep-seated fears that neighboring nations will launch opportunistic invasions against their borders once their forces are deployed abroad. After all, their military assets and economic reserves are strictly limited."
Executor shook his head slightly—a rare gesture of quiet regret. Having traveled extensively outside Laterano's borders, he had come to understand why such paranoid logic—which seemed utterly absurd to a Sankta—pervaded the wider world.
Unlike the Sankta, other races lacked empathy-sensing halos to perceive the genuine intentions of those around them. Consequently, every international interaction was steeped in mutual suspicion—a deeply rooted friction that even an existential calamity could not easily dissolve.
"Then what is this about Kazdel planning to place Theresis in command of the Sarkaz forces?" Jeanne's tone turned stern, her brows furrowing. "How could Theresa possibly agree to such a move?"
It defied all logic. Releasing a figure like Theresis—a man who posed an immediate threat of triggering another civil war within Kazdel—seemed downright suicidal.
"This information was transmitted to me directly by Pope Yvangelista, with instructions to pass it along to you," Executor replied smoothly. "As for the deeper political calculations behind the decision, my security clearance is insufficient to access those files."
Noticing the Saintess's growing urgency, Executor offered a polite nod and promptly took his leave, wasting no further time as he moved on to his next objective.
Left alone in the corridor, Jeanne pondered the implications of the report, her face darkening. So much had transpired in such a short window.
"Head back and rest for now," Jeanne told Alina, her voice tight. "I'm going to see Kal'tsit to get some answers. What on earth are they thinking, letting a monster like Theresis out of his cell?"
Jeanne strode briskly toward the executive office, her imposing aura causing passing operators to hastily step out of her way. No one knew what could have made the usually serene Saintess look so formidable.
Several onlookers whispered among themselves, wondering if the Doctor had pulled an outrageously bad prank. But as irresponsible as the Doctor could be, she surely knew better than to push Jeanne this far.
Jeanne threw the office door open without knocking. "Kal'tsit, I need an immediate explanation! Why would Theresa—"
"—Theresa, have you completely lost your mind to the Lord of Fiends' inheritance?!"
Kal'tsit's roaring voice shattered the room before Jeanne could finish her sentence. The Feline was gripping her communicator, shouting into the line with a fury so raw it caused even Jeanne to freeze in her tracks.
"You actually released Theresis from his containment cell?! What could possibly be going through your head?! Has Oripathy finally driven you insane?!"