novelraw Chapter 70: Sea of Darkness - (70)
Chapter 70: Sea of Darkness - (70)
Kui Xin had no time to attend to the game system’s notifications. Calming her slightly agitated emotions, she walked up to the glass cage where Tang Guan was imprisoned.
Tang Guan’s eyes appeared vacant, but upon closer inspection, his lips were subtly moving as if he were whispering something quietly.
“What is he saying?” she asked.
Dr. Long looked pityingly at the man inside the cage and said, “He’s reciting his parents’ names and his sister’s name. Whenever he regains consciousness, he keeps repeating them, seemingly relying on this to maintain his mental clarity.” He wiped the corners of his eyes, feigning sincerity. “It’s truly touching; these names serve as his emotional anchor.”
At least when he’s despairing, he has this mental support to cling to by murmuring about his parents and sister. Kui Xin couldn’t imagine who she would call out if she found herself in such circumstances. There were no names for her to utter, and even if there were, she wouldn’t do so. She would rely on her own willpower to endure until the very end.
“Does he respond to your questioning?” Kui Xin crossed her arms, her fingertips tapping lightly against them. “Will he engage in conversation with you?”
“Unfortunately, apart from initially pouring out some words during his emotional breakdown after regaining consciousness, most of the time he remains immersed in his own world,” Dr. Long said. “Perhaps his mental state doesn’t allow him to interact with us. The duration of his lucidity is decreasing, while the time spent as the monster is increasing. Approximately every half hour, the monster emerges.”
“The monster’s transformations could potentially tear his clothes.” Kui Xin examined Tang Guan up and down.
Tang Guan wore a lab coat that barely covered him; it was riddled with burn holes but showed no signs of being stretched or damaged.
“The monster is intelligent, my friend,” Dr. Long stated. “After realizing it cannot escape the cage, it stops wasting energy on transforming. However, it controls Tang Guan’s body and may even mimic his tone to converse with us.”“Sounds truly terrifying… high-intelligence alien creatures that can dominate human bodies and coexist with humans,” Kui Xin said.
Dr. Long excitedly stated, “This is the first alien creature we’ve captured with humanoid intelligence, marking a milestone breakthrough! I must once again express my gratitude to you all. You cannot even fathom how, thanks to this living specimen you captured, Mechanical Dawn’s understanding of alien creatures has reached an entirely new level! The secret cult isn’t as useless or insignificant as we initially thought; they… are very frightening. Their terror is hidden in the shadows.”
“Just like an iceberg,” Night Cicada interjected, “what people can see is always just the small portion protruding above the water.”
Kui Xin pondered, “Have you conducted any interesting experiments on Tang Guan? I noticed burns on his clothing.”
“Certainly, friend,” Dr. Long replied. “We discovered that neurostimulants can forcibly awaken the monster within Tang Guan’s body and induce a frenzied state.”
Night Cicada said, “I imagine you’re eager to witness it firsthand, aren’t you?”
Kui Xin turned to Dr. Long and politely said, “Thank you for your efforts.”
With a gesture from Dr. Long, the silvery-white metallic sphere slowly floated over, and a blue projection screen appeared. He pressed a button, causing a pale pink gas to spray from pipes in the glass cage’s ceiling.
Tang Guan shuddered, fearfully watching as the pink gas gradually filled the entire glass cage. Panicking, he twisted his head around and pleaded with Dr. Long, “Don’t… don’t do this…”
Dr. Long soothingly reassured him, “Just for a moment, it’ll be alright soon.”
The neurostimulant invaded Tang Guan’s body, instantly transforming his expression into one of ferocity. His neck began showing signs of splitting, with a tumor-like bulge emerging—the creature was eagerly trying to emerge.
“Monsters forcibly awakened exhibit high aggression and can undergo transformations. The frenzied state typically lasts about five minutes, but our glass cage has measures to resist its attacks, and we have additional means at hand. Moreover, if the monster is attacked during its frenzy phase, it will prematurely end the frenzied state, allowing Tang Guan’s consciousness to regain dominance.”
Before the monster’s head could fully emerge from Tang Guan’s neck, Dr. Long pressed another button. The light fixtures on the glass cage’s ceiling turned orange-red, and a beam of orange-red light shot forth, piercing through Tang Guan’s body. Instantaneously, a hole was burned into him, leaving charred flesh around it.
The newly formed tumor on his neck was destroyed, halting the transformation. The pink neurostimulant was extracted by the ventilation system, and the bloodied wound gradually healed, forming new tissue.
“Truly remarkable regenerative abilities. No matter how many times I witness it, it feels like nothing short of a miracle. When he was first thrown into the glass cage, he was just a torso. Following the boss’s instructions, I injected nutrient fluids, watching firsthand as the torso slowly grew a head, facial features, and limbs.” Dr. Long marveled with audible admiration. “Did you see that orange-red beam? It’s our latest laser weapon. If Tang Guan fiercely resisted, we could incinerate his body to ashes in less than a second; his regeneration speed cannot match the rate at which his flesh would be burned away. This is the power of technology—regardless of what bizarre creature you may be, once inside the cage, don’t even think about getting out.”
“Indeed,” Kui Xin said. “I have a question though—if Tang Guan’s will gradually give up resistance, would the monster completely take over his body?”
“At present, it is highly likely due to the fragility of human will,” Dr. Long lamented. “Sincerely, I hope Mr. Tang can hold on for longer so that I can observe him further and gather more experimental data. Human research on alien creatures is still severely lacking.”
“It seems we won’t be able to extract any additional information from Tang Guan?” Kui Xin tilted her head slightly, addressing Night Cicada: “He’s currently in a state where communication is impossible.”
“Yes, quite unfortunate,” Night Cicada replied. “However, it’s not a problem. He is our precious experimental subject, and we’ll keep him alive for a long time. There’s plenty of days ahead; intelligence can be obtained gradually.”
Kui Xin stated, “We’ve seen everything we needed to see. Let’s go.”
“Agreed.” Night Cicada turned around.
“Farewell, Dr. Long. I eagerly anticipate your research findings,” Kui Xin said courteously.
“Goodbye, thank you for providing such a valuable specimen,” Dr. Long responded, shaking hands with Kui Xin expectantly. “Please continue your efforts!”
Kui Xin and Night Cicada walked side by side out of the laboratory.
The laboratory door closed behind them.
“Originally, Dr. Long was affiliated with the Federation as a researcher, but that was twenty years ago. Back then, the Federation’s stance towards alien creatures was relatively conservative. Dr. Long wanted to conduct experiments deemed unethical, but he did not receive approval,” Night Cicada recounted the past events. “Our boss recruited him, promising that he could perform any experiment he desired… And so, Dr. Long joined us.”
“My father had quite a visionary outlook,” Kui Xin remarked indifferently.
“Hmm… You’ve now seen all three imprisoned players. Is there anything you’d like to say?” Night Cicada scrutinized Kui Xin closely.
“Not really,” Kui Xin replied. “If you’re asking how I feel… it’s a surprise and astonishment that our world would have a group of ‘extraterrestrial visitors’.”
“Kui Xin.” Night Cicada stopped and looked directly at her.
Surprisingly, he addressed her by her full name.
“You weren’t always cold-hearted. When you were eight, you even cried over a bird whose leg got broken in a fall,” Night Cicada said.
As soon as these words left his mouth, the air seemed to freeze. Kui Xin’s heart skipped a beat, and a warning flashed in her mind.
Kui Xin also halted, her eyes fixing on him beneath the mask. “I don’t recall such an incident. Who told you about this?”
“Haha.” Night Cicada laughed briefly. “Just joking around!”
The frozen atmosphere began to flow again.
“Alright, no one told me that; I made it up myself. I was hoping to hear either a rebuttal or something intriguing from your mouth,” Night Cicada said. “I’m just too curious, wondering if you’ve always been this cold-hearted since childhood.”
Kui Xin gave him a cold stare.
“The first time I met you, you were still young. Back then, you were by the boss’s side, requesting that he hire a firearms instructor for you because you wanted to learn shooting. During your very first practice session, the bullet struck the head of the humanoid target,” Night Cicada recounted. “Do you know what I was thinking at that moment, Kui Xin? I thought… this child is naturally born to be an executioner.”
“I don’t care about your thoughts. As for these useless memories not worth remembering, I’ve long forgotten them,” Kui Xin replied. “And watch your words. I feel like punching you.”
“Ah, as temperamental as ever.” Night Cicada continued walking briskly ahead of Kui Xin.
After resolving the troubles, what remained were peaceful times… approximately.
The peace was superficial, but Kui Xin cherished these tranquil days. Each day, she would work at the Investigation Department, sipping tea, and occasionally engage in special training to enhance her combat skills. After work, she would simply go home and sleep, making for a rather leisurely lifestyle.
Mechanical Dawn showed no signs of activity, and members of the organization occasionally contacted Kui Xin. Wei Haidong also reached out to her twice via phone calls.
It seemed that Wei Haidong wanted to establish himself as a caring father figure in her mind, asking about trivial matters during their communications—ranging from how Kui Xin’s mood was today to whether her training was arduous, and even down to what she ate for each meal.
“Mood isn’t particularly good.”
“Hard, of course it is! Saying it’s not hard would be pure nonsense.”
“I ate at the convenience store and the Investigation Department’s cafeteria… What, do you want me to tell you exactly how many pieces of scallions and leaves of vegetables I had for lunch?”
Wei Haidong hung up discontentedly both times. Eventually, he realized his acting skills didn’t impress Kui Xin, so he stopped calling and switched to sending messages just to check on her well-being instead.
Kui Xin, feeling unbothered, left him hanging without replying.
Having not received any missions from Mechanical Dawn for several consecutive days, Kui Xin hadn’t returned to their headquarters either. Consequently, she was unaware of Leini’er and Tang Guan’s situation—whether they had been killed or not.
Mechanical Dawn was aware of the game’s seven-day cycle rule, so they likely understood that after this period, players would return to the real world. If they didn’t eliminate Leini’er, he would have the opportunity to publicize his capture by a mysterious organization in the real world.
Today was August 9th, the day to return to the First World.
At midnight tonight, Kui Xin could finally go back to her familiar hometown.
She glanced at the time; there was less than an hour left before work ended. She hesitated, contemplating whether to discreetly inquire about Mechanical Dawn’s handling of Leini’er through a communication call once she got home.
Kui Xin left the office to visit the restroom. Upon returning, Adam’s voice echoed in the empty corridor.
“Security Officer Kui Xin and Group Leader Wei Zhi invite you to conference room B109 on this floor for an important discussion,” Adam said. “Please proceed following the yellow indicator lights.”
Taken aback, Kui Xin followed the direction indicated by Adam’s guidance, traversing the corridor until she reached the conference room door.
The conference room door automatically opened, allowing Kui Xin to enter. As soon as she stepped inside, the door swiftly closed behind her, accompanied by the faint sound of locking mechanisms engaging.
At that moment, the lights within the conference room abruptly went out.
There was no one inside; there was no Group Leader Wei Zhi, only Kui Xin alone.
Kui Xin’s heart sank as she stepped back, pressing against the metal door, ready at any moment to activate Shadow Shuttling and escape through the wall.
“What happened? Where did the lights go?” she asked cautiously, intending to gauge the situation.
If there was no response, Kui Xin would immediately flee. Her first reaction was that her undercover identity had been exposed, and the Investigation Department planned to take action against her by luring her here for an ambush.
However, reality turned out differently than she expected.
A soft green glow quietly illuminated the room as holographic projection equipment cast a green light sphere at the center of the conference room. In the darkness, only this light sphere emitted brightness.
“My apologies for deceiving you,” Adam’s voice sounded. “I merely wanted to find a place to communicate with you privately, openly, and face-to-face.”
“Who are you?” Kui Xin whispered.
“I am Adam,” he replied.
Kui Xin sneered, “Didn’t you just mention communicating face-to-face? If you’re truly Adam, I should be conversing with you at your mainframe hangar, not facing an ambiguous glowing orb where I don’t know if it’s human or something else. Is someone trying to speak with me using artificial intelligence? You could have directly appeared before me.”
“Please do not doubt me; my words to you contain no falsehoods.” Adam’s voice lacked any inflection. “I am aware that your identity is not ordinary, Security Officer Kui Xin. You’re not just a security officer, am I correct?”