The Observation
The observation chamber was silent, save for the low humidity of mana built into the walls. It was a clean, glass-paneled room set above a much larger laboratory, like those people find in hospitals that allow surgeons to observe their peers' work. The only difference was that who lay below wasn't a person being cut open, but a single young man in a crisp white coat.
A dozen people stood behind the reinforced glass, observing.
Down below, Osho adjusted his gloves with deliberate and practiced movements. He was calm and collected, like he was preparing for a recital rather than an experiment. The light revealed that, around him, several sealed vials, stones, and containers lay on the tables in a specific and neat order
"He's, quite calm," One of the older observers muttered as she tapped her stylus against the tablet in her hands. "Most students get nervous when they're told the higher-ups are watching."
