Chapter 17
Chapter 17
The Horror Game players were scattered throughout the hospital. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to stay together. The anomaly NPCs had deliberately separated them to deal with them individually.
Most had started in the same ward, but the doctor named Zhao Xiuming had brought his “pet” to cause trouble and wrecked the room.
The other anomaly doctors had seized the opportunity to split them up, assigning them to different ward buildings or different floors of the same building.
Most players hadn’t initially recognized the instance’s sinister intentions. Those who had were more worried about being wiped out by the Terror Game players.
Terror players didn’t raze instances to the ground, but they had no sense of fair play.
Who the fuck brought heavy weapons in here?
All fear came from insufficient firepower, and Terror players loved their heavy weapons. Why not bring a nuclear bomb and flatten the whole instance?
Would the points from clearing it even cover their costs? Didn’t Terror players know how to budget?
Only when the anomalies turned frenzied without warning and the NPCs began a collective rampage
did the Horror Game players realize who the real fools were.
They couldn’t hold them off. Not at all. More than half their number died in a single night. It was a brutal lesson!
In previous instances, a survival chase had come with a notification so the players could prepare. Not this time.
The anomalies playing doctors and nurses had all disappeared. When they returned, they were far stronger. Ignoring rules and restrictions, they immediately began the hunt.
Even noticing something wrong, the players didn’t take any of it as an irregularity in the instance.
That would be ridiculous. This was a horror instance.
Everything here was abnormal. Constantly feeling something was wrong was normal.
Besides, their mission was to survive. Wasn’t it only to be expected that the NPCs would rampage and the anomalies would slaughter people?
Even the viewers in the Horror Game players’ livestreams saw no problem. They treated it as the normal course of the instance.
“That’s what I’ve been saying. They only have to survive for three days. Without some difficulty, wouldn’t they be able to coast right through?”
“Short duration means harder-to-kill anomalies. And with Terror players logging in, the NPCs have to get stronger. Now it’s worth watching.”
“Embarrassing. You’re an embarrassment to us Horror Game players! So busy fighting Terror players that the NPCs hit you in your own backyard. The Terror Game team didn’t dare underestimate the NPCs. Every one of them is still unhurt!”
In every Horror Game player’s livestream, there was neither comfort nor concern in the scrolling comments. Only resentment and abuse.
Whether someone died, whether lives were lost: that wasn’t the audience’s concern.
The viewers were players who were temporarily safe outside an instance. All had narrowly escaped death. They judged only ability and results.
As the Horror Game players died gruesomely, viewer numbers in the survivors’ streams rose rapidly.
The female player who had questioned Zhao Xiuming and used an item to verify his NPC status was hiding with her team.
There were four of them, two men and two women. Their hiding place sounded like the most dangerous option imaginable: the morgue.
When she first suggested it, her teammates had all objected. But a scan revealed that this was the only place the anomalies never approached.
The morgue was very cold and dimly lit. Occasionally, sounds of the unrest outside reached them, setting their nerves on edge.
They had remained silent, moving cautiously and even trying to keep their breathing steady.
Only now, as dawn broke, did they feel able to talk and check their livestreams.
Comments containing certain words that could affect the game experience were filtered out. Others could provide information.
Reading the comments, the female teammate realized the Horror Game players were in a very bad state.
“Which teams sent players in this time? This is hilarious. Are they going to get completely wiped out?”
“A veteran was playing prophet at the start, saying this kind of instance was easy to coast through. I just saw an anomaly doctor tear him apart.”
“You could call this instance hard or easy. The hard part is that the anomalies won’t die. The players can’t find their weaknesses, and on their very first night they’re in a battle royale that comes down to stamina.”
“The easy part is there’s barely any plot or rules. It’s just physical strength. Use items and points to hold out until the end, and you live.”
“This team is pretty smart, hiding in the morgue. The most dangerous place is the safest.”
Going against expectations like that was one kind of instance rule. It didn’t work every time, but this team had been lucky.
The two male teammates were keeping watch. The other female teammate looked tense, calculating what items she could afford as she spoke quietly.
“Of the sixteen of us, only eight are left. That means four outside our team.”
“Two games logged into the same instance. With so many players dead, will the difficulty go down?”
She saw nothing wrong with her cold-blooded words. “I wonder how the Terror Game players are doing.”
“All sixteen they sent are on the same team. Their gear is excellent. They’re practically special forces.”
“I also saw them abducting NPCs. Those two who brought the monster into our ward.”
Unfortunately, nobody responded. The man on watch had gone pale. “Forget that for now. The item says a lot of anomalies are coming this way.”
“Have they found us, or…?”
The female leader gave the order immediately. “Let’s relocate first.”
The four moved quickly, trying to slip past the approaching anomalies.
But whichever direction they chose, the item showed anomalies drawing closer.
With no other choice, they found a cleaning-supply storeroom in the morgue and slipped inside without a sound.
One man held a tablet-like screen: a detection device.
He lowered his voice. “Most are to the east. There are some south, too. A dozen or more west…”
“They’re coming from every direction. Even above and below us.”
The female teammate set up a protective barrier, then purchased something like dust and blew it into the air to mask their scent.
“We should have left earlier,” the leader reasoned.
“But it’s all right. They haven’t necessarily found us.”
“The morgue might be their nest. Maybe they come back to rest after dawn.”
“And dawn means the rampage is over. It might not be as dangerous as we think.”
As though confirming her words, the anomalies entered the morgue and appeared all around them on the display, but showed no intent to attack.
Only one red dot representing an NPC stopped outside the door and remained there for a long time.
The players held their breath as rhythmic knocking sounded outside.
None intended to open it. The next second, the handle turned on its own, and the door clicked open.
One male teammate lunged straight at it and threw the offensive item [Flame Emblem].
Blazing flames surged up, engulfing the newcomer.
The players expected to hear the anomaly scream. At the very least, it should dodge.
Instead, the person swiftly stripped off his burning white coat. The flames hadn’t even touched his hair.
“How rude.”
His languid voice was cold. He blew on his fingers, curling their tips near his lips.
Beneath the coat, he wore a light-colored T-shirt with a distinctly college-boy look. Its neckline was broad and loose, with what seemed to be a provocative black lace collar insert underneath.
Once the coat was off, Zhao Xiuming began pulling his shirt hem out of his trousers.
Without ceremony, he whisked it up. A sharply defined, lean waist flashed into view, dazzlingly pale, then disappeared as the fabric dropped again.
Finally, he looked at the male teammate staring at him and smiled. “Like the shirt? I paid nine ninety for it.”
The man couldn’t think how to respond. He quickly backed up several steps, gripping his item with renewed caution.
A masked man almost as tall as the doorframe stepped out from behind Zhao Xiuming and tugged his neckline upward.
The other players recognized Zhao Xiuming as well. Their leader sounded surprised. “Dr. Zhao?”
He gave a hum of acknowledgment and entered with the man behind him, closing the door as well.
The four players were jumpy as startled birds. Zhao Xiuming, however, thought it was the biker they feared.
So he held out his right hand, feelers waving wildly, his eyes full of amusement. “Allow me to introduce my Little Darling.”
“He wears a mask. He won’t be as rude as those anomaly doctors outside, attacking people with their heads. Their heads fly right at your face with their mouths open to bite.”
“That’s blatant sexual harassment, isn’t it? Terrifying.”
The four players said nothing. They thought Dr. Zhao was much scarier: pale-faced, faint shadows beneath his eyes, fond of dried human meat, his right hand mutated, keeping an anomaly as a pet.
Feelers broke through the flesh of his right hand. So close to his face, they quivered toward his cheek, trying to pierce it.
Zhao Xiuming lowered his eyes to watch, then suddenly smiled.
Hmm… He wanted to swallow them.
He opened his mouth to the feelers, eager, waiting for them to slip inside.
The biker behind him could bear no more. He reached out and pinched them off.
The remaining feelers instantly stiffened, then stayed obediently still on Zhao Xiuming’s right hand.
[Don’t use those things to play with your tongue.]