Chapter 21: Setting Twenty-One

Setting Twenty-One: Monster Hunter (Part 3)

Things that can make people afraid generally fall into two categories. The first is highly malformed things that possess few human features—they provoke fear primarily through human racial exclusivity and self-preservation instincts. The second category consists of things that resemble humans but have subtle differences. When something is very close to human, people instinctively categorize it as their own kind—yet those subtle differences create subconscious dissonance, provoking unease and a sense of threat.

Of the two, the first is overt—you know exactly why you’re afraid of a xenomorph; its long tail and twisted body make the abnormality and threat obvious. The second is more implicit—you might not understand why a highly realistic SD doll unsettles you, but its rigidity and pallor subconsciously evoke corpses and death. The latter kind of fear runs deeper. Though it lacks the explosive impact of the first, it simmers beneath the surface, fermenting until it reaches a tipping point.

Shan Ziwei was now facing something that encompassed both categories.

The woman before him was as beautiful as in the photo—long, straight black hair draping over her chest and back, wearing a light blue hospital gown whose loose hem fell just above her thighs. Shan Ziwei’s gaze dropped there—not out of lust; in fact, he was certain that even the world’s most lecherous man standing here wouldn’t be eyeing what was under that skirt. They’d only notice the umbilical cord.

Yes—the umbilical cord. Everyone had one, connecting them to their mother’s body. Usually, it’s cut by a doctor when the baby is born, but that rule didn’t apply here. A long, greasy umbilical cord hung from between the woman’s legs, attaching to the “baby” in her arms—though to Shan Ziwei, what she held was less a baby and more a ball of flesh, or rather, pieces of freshly cut human tissue stitched together into a sphere.

Seeing him look, the beautiful woman proudly displayed the soft, sticky, misshapen creature in her arms.

“This is your child. A handsome little boy.”

How on earth could you tell it’s a boy—wait, a boy ball or a girl ball?! Shan Ziwei felt none of the excitement of new fatherhood. He deeply understood how Li Jing must have felt when he killed his third son. This thing that was called a baby but written as a ball of flesh was outright anti-human!

Shan Ziwei could only keep up a stream of internal complaints to dull the surge of terror. He was afraid—unspeakably afraid. Afraid of the deformed flesh-ball in Maria’s arms, and even more afraid of the Maria who held it.

He was so paralyzed with fear that he couldn’t move—and if he could, he’d flee immediately. Yet despite being this terrified, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about her scared him so much. Every detail of Maria resembled his past “Fei Fei,” yet she was so horrifying he couldn’t bear to look.

Little Gaia lay silently on Shan Ziwei’s shoulder, its black-sclera, white-iris eyes studying his stiff face. It rested its chin on his shoulder, wrapped its arms around its head, its long sleeves hiding the mask’s expression.

Seeing Shan Ziwei staring fixedly at her and the child, Maria happily lowered her head and cooed at the flesh-ball: “Come, baby—let Daddy hold you. He likes you so much.”

At Maria’s words, the flesh-ball seemed to pulse with excitement—the writhing, contracting tendons made Shan Ziwei’s stomach cramp. But Maria looked as if she’d seen an angel’s smile. She couldn’t help kissing the flesh-ball and pressing her cheek against it. Shan Ziwei watched as the greasy film on the lump’s surface stuck like thick glue to Maria’s lips and face—and when she pulled away, it tore off her beautiful skin.

Now Shan Ziwei was facing two bloody, featureless faces. Though the visual impact was greater, he actually felt freed from his boundless terror. His fear-paralyzed body finally regained mobility. Almost instinctively, he raised the Tracking Marker Gun and fired at the flesh-ball in Maria’s arms.

“—!”

The specially coated bullet pierced the flesh-ball. The struck mass convulsed violently. It clearly had no vocal cords, but the violent contraction of its tendons seemed to express both pain and rage. Maria’s bloody face twisted. She stared at Shan Ziwei as if he were insane.

“Why would you hurt him? He’s your child—born because you wanted him—”

Shan Ziwei’s response was another shot. The adrenaline from fear had pushed him into a fight-or-flight state—he now had only one thought: kill the monster and leave this Chessboard.

The second shot hit the flesh-ball just as precisely. Without pausing, Shan Ziwei reloaded, one eye closed—not just to aim, but to Reconnaissance the monster’s stats.

[???
Attribute: 10
Type: Pawn
MP: 1000/1000
SP: (100[40]%), (100%), (100%), (100%)
Stance: Hostile
Relationship: Adoration (Active)
Description: This little thing is an accidental man-made creation. It will evolve, and it holds grudges—once you’ve offended it, it will chase you for life.]

Two shots had contaminated 40% of the monster’s Spade SP. Five shots would fully contaminate it. With that in mind, Shan Ziwei pulled the trigger.

“Bang!”

The bullet tore through flesh, splattering blood. Shan Ziwei’s expression changed—the moment the third bullet left the barrel, Maria spun around and shielded the flesh-ball with her body, taking the shot herself.

The moment he hit Maria, Shan Ziwei’s Club SP (Sorrow) dropped by 50%. He had no time to figure out which setting he’d violated—Setting 2 or Setting 3. After taking the hit, Maria staggered toward the door, clutching the flesh-ball and trying to escape. The setting prevented Shan Ziwei from attacking his “wife,” but that posed no obstacle. Fueled by adrenaline, he overtook Maria with unprecedented speed, blocked the doorway, and fired another shot at the monster.

“Bang!”

He stood at the door, cutting off her escape. Maria retreated to the window, glaring as the white-haired youth smoothly reloaded, aimed, and fired. As the shot left the barrel, Maria turned her back again, ready to take the bullet herself.

“Bang!”

Maria stared blankly at the fourth bloody hole in her “child’s” body. She slowly raised her head, dazedly looking at the cracked marble windowsill beside her—in that instant, the bullet had struck the marble and ricocheted into her “child.”

Maria was in despair. She knew that as long as she was in this room, there was no escaping the white-haired youth’s attacks. Cradling the flesh-ball, she turned to face her powerful “husband,” trying to appeal to his conscience with a mournful voice.

“My darling… please don’t hurt him… please, please don’t hurt him…”

Shan Ziwei didn’t fire again. He’d only coated five bullets earlier, and one had been wasted on Maria, so he had to stop and coat more. Maria’s face lit up for a moment when he lowered his gun—then when she saw him take out the solution, she—and especially the “child” in her arms—began to tremble violently.

“No… no, no…”

The monster clearly knew that once Shan Ziwei finished coating the bullets, it would be dead. Its flesh rippled with intense anxiety—and then it suddenly burst out of Maria’s arms. It hit the floor with a wet, squelching sound, like an overripe watermelon splitting open. Sticky fluid pooled beneath it. The creature above the fluid writhed and tried to roll away from danger, but the umbilical cord bound it firmly to its mother. The monster paused. Its flesh expanded outward like a deep breath, then contracted sharply.

Shan Ziwei had just loaded the newly coated bullets when he looked up and saw a swollen flesh-ball and a shrunken Maria—her flesh seemed to have been sucked away, leaving only dry skin wrapped around bone. The umbilical cord between them visibly withered from Maria’s end, about to snap. A surge of alarm made Shan Ziwei act—he fired almost before fully aiming.

The slightly off-target bullet shot diagonally toward the monster. It leaped, dodging, and the bullet pierced the stretched cord instead. Freed from its bond, the creature rolled under the bed. Shan Ziwei immediately crouched down—but saw the monster beneath the bed ram upward, flipping the entire bed toward him.

“Clang—”

The iron bed crashed to the floor with a tremendous noise, its frame facing Shan Ziwei, blocking his view of where the monster had gone. He circled around the side—but the moment he moved away from the door, a dark shape shot toward the exit.

Having anticipated this, Shan Ziwei raised his gun and fired. The bullet struck the shadow, which hit the floor with a wet splat—it looked like a lump of spoiled meat. Because that’s exactly what it was.

Shan Ziwei watched warily as the lump lay still. Sensing something wrong, he walked over quickly. The moment he looked down, a gust of wind swept over his head—and a sharp pain shot through his scalp. Someone—or something—had yanked a chunk of his hair.

“!”

He cried out in pain and looked up. There it was—the monster.

And it had evolved.

[???
Attribute: 10
Type: Knight
MP: 5000/5000
SP: (100%), (100%), (100%), (100%)
Stance: Hostile
Relationship: Adoration (Active)
Description: Clearly, you have offended it.]

The evolved monster was a whole size smaller—what it had thrown out was its shed flesh. What drew the eye were its two new tentacles, about a meter long, looking soft yet resilient. Though it had gained what seemed like two dangerous appendages, it was still essentially a ball. It stopped at the door, not leaving—instead, it proudly extended its tentacles, showing off its trophies.

“…”

Shan Ziwei stared silently at the tender tentacle tip curled around a tuft of white hair—his own. This particular sufferer was now in a state of exhaustion and despair. The monster’s evolution came with a full-health restore effect—he’d been so close to fully contaminating its Spade SP, and now all his work was undone.

Numbly, he raised his weapon and fired at the monster. The creature quickly demonstrated that its new tentacles weren’t just decorative—it crossed them together, wrapping itself into a honeycomb-like ball. The bullet struck the tentacles, severing two—but the monster barely seemed to care, regenerating them almost instantly at a cost of only 100 MP.

Shan Ziwei stared at the paltry Mental Contamination and the Bishop-level MP pool, his heart shattering.

Under this particular sufferer’s broken gaze, the monster picked up the fallen white hair and placed it on its head—loosely speaking, the top area—where its own juices quickly bonded the hair into a makeshift, awkward headpiece.

It waved its tentacles at Shan Ziwei threateningly, then proudly rolled away with its trophy.

Shan Ziwei: …Wait till I gather my party and come back for a proper fight!