Chapter 45
Chapter 45
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Project: Meat Doll
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1.
“Ugh, fucking headache….”
Isis was like that, and so was Eiming.
They said as long as you have True Ancestor blood, reincarnation into a familiar is possible!
Wrong.
[The True Ancestor’s ██ is presumed to inherently or intentionally exclude the birth of new kin.]
Contextually, even injecting blood from a True Ancestor freed from the ‘binding force’ into a human only results in ghoulification.
There were no records anywhere of successful vampirization through True Ancestor blood.
“Almost fucked up….”
If I’d just believed Isis, Arbel would’ve turned into a dark-evolved black warg—Arbel.
It means the ‘cooperation of the True Ancestor’ is essential, separate from the blood.
But here’s the problem.
She needs the True Ancestor’s cooperation, but the True Ancestor herself has never created a familiar in her entire life!
She was the kind of bitch who even slaughtered her own family.
No way she’d turn Arbel into a familiar just because I served her for a few days.
“Fuck!!!!!”
“Rowen, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sir!”
“Really? I’m almost done with makeup. Wait just a bit longer.”
So, disappointed?
No? You get disappointed because you had expectations.
I never expected the Premium Route glitch clear to go smoothly from the start.
Still, the image of Sion snapping her fingers like a spoiled bitch to command Cedric lingers.
The grueling memory of boiling bathwater from dawn, sweating bullets.
“That freeloading leech bitch…!!!”
No, she said she’d make me a familiar if I served her well!
That fucking cunt. No wonder she agreed so readily—she was plotting to stab me in the back the whole time?
This rage won’t subside.
For a moment, I vibrate in seething betrayal mode.
“Ha… gotta rethink the strategy?”
Smart, highly educated folks must’ve pooled their brains to research this.
Maybe they found a breakthrough?
Clutching at straws, I quickly sift through the documents.
“Hm?”
I spot an experiment log with a shady vibe.
[Project: Meat Doll]
-Objective: Implant True Ancestor factors into a soulless culture body (doll) to create a controllable Prototype True Ancestor.
“Culture?”
The word sticks out.
Something proposed by guys who ended up with stockpiles of ghoul rejects from failed vampire attempts.
‘Pre-implant factors into the cultured ██, bypassing ██ conflict.’
It connects weirdly to that.
I dig deeper.
[Major Experiment Progress Report]
[Case 1. █ Year █ Month █ Day.]
Factor implantation into cultured doll successful. Awakened immediately after injection. Subject screamed and bashed its head against the partition. Died from blood loss after █ minutes.
[Case 13. █ Year █ Month █ Day.]
Externally normal for █ hours post-injection. No response to external stimuli. Brainwaves in single-cycle repeat. Cognitive function activation failed. Permanent autistic state. Disposed.
[Case 28. █ Year █ Month █ Day.]
█ days post-implantation. Subject’s body stabilized, cognitive functions normalized. However, violence manifested. Attacked isolation chamber walls immediately after awakening. Sedatives administered multiple times, but deemed uncontrollable. Disposed.
[Case 61. █ Year █ Month █ Day.]
Compliance commands and submission procedures implemented. Subject uncooperative with all orders. Resisted even under torture. Died from cardiac arrest and cerebral hemorrhage after ██ days.
[Case 66. █ Year █ Month █ Day.]
Subject exhibited extreme fear and hatred upon sighting experimenter. Confirmed remnants of Case 65’s personality and memories in subject. Initialization failed. Disposed.
[Case 82. █ Year █ Month █ Day.]
Memory erasure procedure performed first. However, observed ‘continuity of memory’ where subject’s consciousness data overlays post-injection. Doll presumed to inherit memories instantly upon receiving factors.
[Case 98. ‘Final Experiment’ █ Year █ Month █ Day.]
Prototype True Ancestor constructed via factor implantation into doll. Arrogant and dogmatic personality, cooperative with experiments.
However, observed mild infantile regression, presumed as defense mechanism under extreme stress.
Subject possesses high physical and mental stability, capable of 0th Rank magic.
Can utilize a fraction of the power of ‘blood.’
Can create familiars by bypassing the original’s ██, but process rapidly consumes subject’s life force.
Conclusion: Extremely poor cost-performance as True Ancestor substitute. Project objective failed. Final subject classified as incomplete product.
Final Measure: Project fully terminated. Subject placed in stasis and transferred to ███ containment for ‘final disposal’ awaiting.
Whoa… fuck.
“Is this the Necropolis average…?”
Suddenly feel like I’ve been ripped off.
Feels like I’ve lived too purely and naively in this city so far.
The 250,000 massacre was perk-worthy Nazi-level slaughter, but this? It’s just viscerally repulsive.
“So, to sum up….”
Twilight Resource Development wanted to control a True Ancestor but couldn’t, so they made a knockoff.
No idea the exact route it took, but it ended up canned and abandoned in the Golden Carp Clan basement.
I accidentally adopted it.
Fell for the ‘Your concubine is a True Ancestor~’ line and worshipped the knockoff.
“But wait, what was that aura?”
First meeting, it was straight-up terrifying.
As scary as Samurai Beach. Some illusion spell?
Anyway.
Screw ethics and all that.
Forget that knockoff Sion looks kinda pitiful.
At least it’s good news for me.
[Can create familiars by bypassing the original’s ██, but process rapidly consumes subject’s life force.]
This clause.
Couldn’t familiarize Arbel with real True Ancestor blood or whatever.
But because it’s a knockoff, the ‘conditional’ succubus bunny girl Arbel route opened.
Thing is, no way Sion would burn her life force to save Arbel….
“Seems traumatized—maybe beat her ass till she listens? Wait!!!’
I snap back to sanity.
Fuck!
Nietzsche was right.
Stare into the abyss, and it stares back.
Living in the abyss called Necropolis has dirtied my once-pure heart like unbleached silk.
-Clunk
Eiming emerges, funeral makeup complete.
“Rowen, all done.”
“Bro, sorry, can I head back early today?”
“Huh? Why? I just changed clothes.”
“Forgot I have something really urgent.”
“Alright, can’t be helped then….”
Full-makeup Eiming slumps his shoulders sadly.
He looks genuinely fond of me, regretting our busted club activities.
“…….”
Temptation hits for a second.
Should I?
Maybe Eiming’s trustworthy enough now?
Spill everything and ask for help….
‘Don’t fucking do it! You retard! Die! Die!’
‘Who the fuck you think you’re talking to? Casual speech, you fuck! Hand over the artifact!’
What flashes up: enraged shouts.
The hammer and machete that carved me to pieces.
Ha, keep trying to simp, Cedric.
“Then, I’ll be off!”
This is Necropolis.
First rule.
Never trust others.
2.
On the way back to my place.
I quicken my steps.
Chewing over the new facts like gum.
Puzzle pieces that weren’t clear snap together.
Why Twilight Resource Development stayed quiet after the True Ancestor vanished.
It was already a discarded experiment.
Why Sion devoured diabetic-level snacks in one day.
Why she acted self-centered, whining like a baby.
I thought it was True Ancestor arrogance, but it was regression from defense mechanisms.
Makes sense.
Nearly 100 times, with ‘continuous’ memories, subjected to all sorts of experiments.
Even I’d go around babbling ‘teddy bear mommy gimme’ or whatever.
Jokes aside.
“Why’s it smell so strong?”
That’s exactly why.
Why I’m cutting club activities short and heading home.
Think from Sion’s perspective.
She knows she’s a knockoff.
She’s clearly judged her position’s dangerous if exposed, so she deceived me to make me her limb.
Even with regression, she’s not a total retard.
She’d tightrope her way hiding her identity, leeching off me.
But I threatened to heal Arbel in 3 days?
And for the first time since meeting her, I left for a long stretch.
No clue what that kid might do.
When in doubt, run!
-Slam!
“Haa… haa….”
Back at my place, panting like my lungs are bursting.
I immediately sense it.
She’s gone.
No presence.
Luckily, my Arbel’s sleeping soundly.
But check the bag, tub, toilet lid—
No sign of the True Ancestor cosplayer.
Spot a note on the table.
[Your concubine goes for a walk. Returning day after tomorrow.]
“Walk my ass!”
Knew it’d be something like this!
Even took the leftover sticky rice cakes, snacks, and the lettuce-boru I refilled with points recently.
Even swiped the 10,000 bios neatly stashed in the closet.
“You leech bitch! Stole my money too?”
No scam like this scam bitch!
“You’re getting spanked till you cry snot when I catch you.”
Tracking starts immediately.
No idea where, but gotta at least pretend to search.
.
.
.
.
But of course it ain’t easy.
Over an hour scouring, not a single hair from the runaway knockoff.
Dank alley lit only by red butcher shop signs.
I light a cig and heave a deep sigh.
“Ha… fucked….”
Mystery meat lump on a hook drips blood.
Floor slick with oil and gore mix.
Amid thick steam and fishy stench.
Dull chopping sounds echo.
Under that red light.
-Shing!!!
Sharp blade flies in.
One each side.
Targeting carotid and waist.
Sudden ambush.
But countless solvers I’ve smashed this round.
Experience makes my body move before my brain.
Turn head, twist waist to make space.
-Tick
Cig ember snaps mid-air, cut.
-Clang
Broad pork sword embeds in the iron pole I leaned on, sparks flying.
“Who the fuck are you guys?”
Changpao-clad duo widens eyes in shock, tries to press attack.
But as always.
I’m faster.
No seals, no chants.
Death Verdict manifests in optimal form toward the marks.
-Swish swish
Whip-like sticky mana morphs to blades, surges at them.
“Death Verdict!”
“Mommy! Dodge!”
Acrobat-level agility.
Dodged point-blank slash right after their attack whiffed, stance broken.
Precisely.
“No heaven where you ran, punks.”
They dodged to where I lured.
Hidden in red-lit shadows, mana tentacles I’d spread atop the tent drop, coiling their necks.
-Crack crunch
Heads spin clockwise like tops.
Cervical vertebrae shatter; assailants crumple without death cries.
“What kinda security….”
Not surprised.
Solvers killing each other’s daily in Necropolis.
Timing sucks, but I’ve offed tons on Eiming’s jobs.
Bound to be targeted sooner or later.
“Stomach already churning, now this bullshit… huh?”
Scan around.
Butcher bosses vanished with shutters down the instant combat popped.
Replacing them: solver packs clutching tools.
Silently staring this way.
“No way. Not the 108 bandits….”
At least 40. Even if all Rank 8s, too many.
Picking a spot cluttered with obstacles….
They’ve got me good.
Kinda expected this day might come.
Just coincidental it’s today.
One shoulders his pork sword, steps forward.
“Rowen, you’ve been too rowdy. Should’ve known to chill.”
Shark grin trusting numbers, slowly tightens encirclement with cautious distance.
“OK, I surrender. Bros, let’s talk civilized-like?”
“You think that’ll fly?”
“I’ll hook you up with girls. Real pretty, cheap too.”
“For real?”
Front guy perks ears.
-Pfft!
Gun-hand pose, Death Verdict.
Blast his head with mana shot.
“BROOOOTHER!!!”
“You coward! Using girls as bait!! Is there a more vile villain?!”
Blood, brains, guts explode like fireworks, signaling.
“Fuck off, you Shaolin monk wannabe cowards calling me sneaky? Hilarious!”
RUN!!!
Man, fuck!
Necropolis, the great place to live!