Varen walked back to the podium. Held up a sealed vial containing liquid so diluted it was barely visible.

"Guess what this is," he said, pausing to survey the room with that maddening smile. "Yes, you're all intelligent people. You've already made the connection."

His deliberate pacing commanded absolute attention.

"This substance right here... "

He gestured toward the hole in the wall, the shattered concrete, the impossible demonstration. "This is the very thing responsible for that."

The room's tension was palpable.

"I've named it Golden Catalyst. Made from the same golden liquid we discovered in Aethros Valley. Or more accurately..." He held the vial up to the light, watching the barely-visible shimmer. "Made from the blood of those seven gods."

Silence.

Everyone stared at that tiny vial. Because Varen had just confirmed what they'd feared... he'd integrated divine blood into his body. Successfully.

Then his smile turned mischievous.

"Just imagine what we can achieve with this."

His voice carried almost childlike excitement.

"We could create invincible medicines. Cures for cancer that work in days instead of years. Regenerative treatments for spinal injuries, neurological disorders, genetic diseases. Eradicate infectious diseases that have plagued humanity for millennia..."

He paused, scanning the room.

Every face showed the same expression. Impatience. Because no one cared about medical applications right now. They cared about the man who'd just punched through reinforced concrete. About combat enhancement. About power.

Varen laughed. A genuine, slightly unhinged sound.

"But of course, that's not what you want to hear about, is it?" His mischievous smile widened. "You want to know how I... a man in his sixties with documented arthritis and cardiovascular issues... just punched through six inches of reinforced concrete like it was paper."

He paused, letting anticipation build.

"Yes. It's the same thing. I've integrated this into my own body." He gestured to himself.

"Every chronic condition I had? Gone. The arthritis that made writing painful for twenty years? Healed completely. The minor heart arrhythmia my physicians monitored quarterly? Vanished. My biological markers..."

He pulled out a medical file, holding it up.

"Blood work from six weeks ago versus yesterday. My cellular age has reversed approximately ten years. Perhaps more. I'm not just enhanced. I'm younger."

The room erupted.

"Impossible..."

"Reverse aging? That's..."

"Show us the documentation..."

"If this is real..."

Voices overlapped, climbing over each other in volume and urgency. Because Varen hadn't just demonstrated strength. He'd demonstrated youth. Healing. Regeneration.

The thing humanity had sought since the first civilizations... victory over time itself.

Secretary-General Silva watched from the back of the room, silent. His gaze moved methodically across each delegation. The Chinese representative leaning forward, hands gripping the table. The American military brass exchanging rapid whispered calculations. The European Union observers practically vibrating with suppressed questions. The Russian delegation's barely-concealed hunger.

Greed.

Raw, undisguised greed in every single face.

Silva's lips curved into the faintest smirk. Because he'd seen this pattern before. Nuclear weapons. Genetic engineering. Artificial intelligence. Every breakthrough that promised power attracted the same response... nations circling like predators around fresh prey, each calculating how to claim the advantage before others could.

But this was different.

This wasn't just power. This was immortality.

Varen raised his hand, and somehow... through sheer force of presence... the room quieted.

"The key," he said, voice cutting through the diminishing chaos, "is dilution. Extreme dilution. One ten-thousandth of a single drop from Container Four, suspended in a biocompatible solution I developed through trial and error over thirty-seven days of careful self-experimentation."

Trial and error.

The words hung in the air like an executioner's blade.

Because everyone understood what that meant. Varen had been testing concentrations on himself. Alone. Playing with ratios that could have caused catastrophic systemic failure at any miscalculation.

He'd risked death... agonizing, inevitable death... every single day for over a month. For science. For humanity. For proof.

"But that's just the beginning," he continued, voice carrying new weight. "Once the initial integration completes... once your body fully adapts to that first infinitesimal dose... you can take more."

The room went still.

"Progressive enhancement," Varen explained. "The first integration establishes baseline compatibility. Proves your physiology can process divine essence. But it doesn't represent the upper limit. Far from it."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"After full adaptation, you can integrate additional diluted doses. Gradually increasing concentration. Each successful integration compounds the previous. Strength doesn't just double... it multiplies. Durability increases exponentially. Regeneration accelerates with each stage."

His voice dropped to something almost reverent.

"The gods who left this blood weren't limited to three times human strength. They moved mountains. Reshaped continents. Fought battles that erased geography. And their power came from this."

He held up the vial.

"Which means theoretically, with proper protocols and sufficient time... there may be no upper limit to how powerful an Enhanced human can become."

Silence. Absolute, breathless silence.

"And the lifespan implications..." Varen continued. "My cellular age reversed ten years from a single minimal-concentration dose. What happens after five integrations? Ten? Twenty? If each dose reverses aging while preventing future deterioration..."

He let the implication hang unspoken.

Immortality wasn't theoretical anymore. It was mathematical. Progressive. Achievable through systematic enhancement over time.

"I estimate," Varen said carefully, "that someone who completes multiple successful integrations could live for centuries. Perhaps millennia. All while growing progressively more powerful with each stage."

The greed in the room became palpable. Physical. You could taste it in the air like copper on the tongue.

Because Varen hadn't just offered enhanced strength. He'd offered godhood itself. Step by step. Dose by dose. A systematic path from human to something far beyond.

Silva's expression darkened. Because he understood immediately what Varen had just done. Not just opened Pandora's box... he'd revealed that the box contained infinite power, infinite youth, infinite life.

And every person in this room would kill to possess it.

Varen's expression shifted. The mischievous smile faded, replaced by something heavier. More serious.

"The prophecy was right," he said quietly. "Right about what it claimed. The seven gods understood what they were doing when they left this behind. The golden blood is a gift to humanity. The greatest gift we've ever received."

He paused, his gaze sweeping the room.

"But it can also become our greatest curse if we don't handle it with the caution it demands."

His eyes lingered on faces throughout the chamber. On the Chinese representative's white-knuckled grip. On the American general's calculating expression. On the pharmaceutical executives in the observer section practically salivating at market implications.

"I see it in your eyes," Varen continued, voice carrying weight. "Every single one of you. The greed. The ambition. The calculations about who controls access, who profits, who gains advantage. You're not thinking about the prophecy's warning. About cosmic threats. About preparing humanity for darkness that killed gods."

He held up the vial again.

"You're thinking about power. About youth. About living forever while your enemies age and die."

Silence. Uncomfortable, accusatory silence.

"That's why I'm making this public," Varen said firmly. "Not proprietary. Not controlled by any single nation or corporation. Because the moment this becomes a tool for advantage rather than preparation, the moment we start hoarding divine blood for political gain rather than species survival..."

He gestured at the vial.

"...this gift becomes exactly the curse the gods feared it might be."

Silva's smirk widened fractionally. Because Varen had just articulated what Silva had already known... every person in this room would try to monopolize access to divine enhancement if given the chance. National security. Corporate profit. Political advantage. Personal immortality.

The gift humanity couldn't refuse.

And couldn't handle responsibly.

Varen pulled out his research documentation. Detailed logs. Dilution ratios. Integration timelines. Physiological responses at each stage. Blood work. Cellular analysis. Everything.

"I'm sharing all of it," he announced.

"Complete methodology. No patents. No proprietary claims. Because this isn't about individual achievement or national advantage. This is about humanity's survival against threats that make our political squabbles look like children arguing over toys."

He paused.

"The prophecy spoke of inheritors who must stand against what the gods could not destroy. I've proven we can inherit their power. Now we need to determine who else can survive the process... and ensure we're building defenders, not tyrants."

Absolute silence.

Everyone understood the implications. Varen had just opened Pandora's box. Divine enhancement was possible. Repeatable. And he was offering the methodology to everyone, eliminating any possibility of monopoly control.

Then the chaos truly began. Exactly as Varen had feared.

"Dr. Varen must be arrested immediately for unauthorized human experimentation..."

"His research needs replication within forty-eight hours..."

"Combat applications should be prioritized..."

"We need peer review before any further testing..."

"This is blasphemy against the natural order..."

"My government demands equal access to all containers..."

"Intellectual property rights must be established..."

"The military implications alone..."

Silva watched the explosion of competing voices, his expression unreadable. Because this was exactly what he'd expected.

Institutional fragmentation. Ethical concerns versus pragmatic necessity. Religious objections versus scientific opportunity. National interests versus species survival.

And underneath every argument, the same unspoken calculation:

How do I ensure my nation... my organization... my people... get enhanced first?

The gift was a curse.

And humanity had just accepted both.

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