Chapter 31
Chapter 31
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: Eyelids (4)
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***
The Professor, coming back to his senses, decided to get cold-blooded about it.
‘Have I been through too many good things lately? Feels like I’ve gone soft.’
Yeah, the mages. Disgusting, of course. Treating me like an endless fountain of experimental material, and casually saying it to my face like it’s no big deal. A psychopath that severe would be a lost cause.
But what if they’d been good mages who refused to use me as guinea pig material...?
The injuries popping up on my body right now would’ve happened anyway. To keep the infection at bay, I need wounds severe enough to force the infection factors to pour all their energy into repairing the body.
Regardless of purpose, severed body parts are inevitably produced. And naturally, they’re utterly useless to me.
‘Dealing with someone who wants what’s useless to me is one thing, but showing hostility and putting them on guard? Stupid move, Professor. Careless!’
From now on, he had to think differently. Just like they didn’t complain when they picked up his fallen hair, let them take a wrist or ankle or whatever. No pain anyway, thanks to the anesthesia and his shattered spine.
In exchange, he’d earn their goodwill.
‘Cooperate with the experiments, show compliance to lower their guards. It’s not for me, but these are royal mages—the kingdom’s top talents—researching the relationship between infection factors and the human body. There’s bound to be useful knowledge for healing my body among that!’
The one rule in this game he could trust.
No unsolvable problems. Games exist to be cleared, after all.
Somewhere in this pathetic situation, the key to escape was hidden.
So until he found it, he’d play along, Isaac.
***
=====
- Speed Wagon: Hey, Professor. Found what you asked about.
- professor: How’d it go?
- Speed Wagon: Nada. Isaac Mandalius, 6th circle, Lead Flow school—no records among known NPCs.
- professor: Okay, thanks.
- Jokasss: Still there?
- professor: Yup. They cut off my hands and feet, shit’s wild.
- Jokasss: Ew, I’m out. Keep the screen off. Tell me when it’s done.
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Ugh, I wanna see. Turn it on a bit.
- Take a Look: How fucked is your head to pick shit like that to watch.
- professor: Pop-up at the top of the chat. Consent to watch if you wanna. Help out later when I call.
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Yeeees~
=====
“No records...”
A little surprising—no, very surprising.
Mages were top avoidance targets, sure, but allied ones on the battlefield were different.
World 3 especially featured tons of mutant skirmishes, so players had scoured every mage they’d encountered: where to find them, what spells they used, how to recruit them—all data-mined.
When full war hit, every knight, mage, and soldier mobilized nationwide. Researchers, apprentices—no exceptions. Rebellion? With the city in front falling yesterday and the next one hours ago? Fight or flee if you wanna live.
Anyway, war meant exposure. Exposed mages got hunted by bloodshot-eyed players recruiting for guilds—every last one dissected.
So no data on a 6th-circle Lead Flow high mage? Obvious.
‘Isaac Mandalius dies before the real war starts.’
A character set to die naturally, without my intervention. Critical info. Because Isaac was a 6th-circle mage.
‘Story-wise, something that can kill a 6th-circle mage shows up. Problem is, it won’t just target him.’
Meaning Count Mandalius’s estate was about to become a danger zone.
The Professor sorted his to-dos mentally.
First: Charm the mages, max affinity, induce carelessness. Look for body-fixing methods when slack.
Second: Escape before whatever kills 6th-circles arrives.
Third: Earn 1.1 million ceiling along the way.
‘Damn... tight as hell.’
Don’t forget the goal: 1.1 million ceiling debt left.
25 game days—not desperate yet, but this mess meant no telling how much time. Viewers down, no donation hopes, so in-game big money schemes, and fastest escape possible.
***
Mandalius Estate, pension day 4.
Clank clank, rattle!
Lock undone, thick iron door opening—dawn of the day.
“Professor, morning... time.”
“Ah, Nila. Good morning~”
Over three days, the Professor had maxed efforts to befriend the mages. Not hard. Even unbound, he’d mutate soon outside. Free as could be, still tethered here.
He’d cooperated hugely on research, stressed that point, earned limited freedom. Still in anesthesia tub, but no chains now.
“Oh my, full of energy today? Hmm... just in case, how many~?”
Nila, mage with breakfast, wiggled two fingers before his eyes.
“Two. Why keep asking numbers?”
“Oh, that? Checking if I’m talking to human Professor or mutant-possessed Professor body. Especially since some infection factors in you come from that ‘white monster’—post-mutation, high intelligence likely.”
Post-mutation already? Mages discussing my full-infection research phase?
“White one... ah, you mean?”
[Your blood is a feast]
‘That time, infection factors through cheek wound?’
It wanted my blood, plausible. Not the carrying-me-around type otherwise.
“Something ring a bell?”
“Ah, well... it slashed my face, said it wanted my blood.”
“Whaaat?!”
Nila shocked, rushed back with parchment bundle, scribbled frantically.
“Why spill that crucial fact now!”
“Uh... didn’t ask? Not special. Monster wants blood, whatever.”
“Crucial! Knight Charlotte testified their queen passes strong human traits to offspring!”
‘Oh. Research advanced? Way past standard Year 124 knowledge.’
Cities fell faster this world, accelerating crisis sense, these changes.
“Our biggest worry too. We routed it, but it fled with white spear soaked in Knight Charlotte’s blood. If true, mutants with Agate-like power hordes incoming...”
‘No way in hell.’
Last battle, Turan took devastating losses but routed them. Cleanup: purify what could, burn rest. Queen starved skinny.
‘Genetics useless without resources.’
Half-done blueprint, no materials to mass-produce soldiers. Even with materials, Charlotte-level elites ain’t easy.
‘No black-horizon mutant legions this world.’
Early playstyle matters. One win shifts flow.
‘Wait. Edeorna took Charlotte’s blood, but some of mine too? Seemed to like me fine.’
“Hey, Nila.”
“Yes?”
“So queen could produce mutants from my blood too?”
“Y...eah? If white monster eyed you, probably delivered blood intel to queen.”
“Oho.”
Mutants with my traits... mass-produce tons. Fun. Snack-crumb legions.
“Anyway, no more hiding? Other oddities?”
“Never hid anything...”
Nila eyed suspiciously, then apologetically lifted ankle. Chit-chat done, work time.
“Alright, today’s treatment... um... starting?”
“No worries. No pain.”
He nodded; eyes squeezed shut, she sliced thigh vicinity with wind blade.
Slish!
No thought on severed side, slicer more scared. Normal, really.
“Ughhhh...”
“Done. Healed already, open eyes.”
Cautious peek, wrapped severed leg in thick cloth. Visibly drained quick. Morning talk to delay this.
“R-Really okay? Even to save more lives, doing this horrific... to a living person...”
“Hahaha. Fine. Mad at first, but think of it as pre-death patriotism.”
‘Hell no. Not pain—visceral revulsion.’
Isaac barely visited post-awakening. Sent assistants; three days spilling guts, fun facts unearthed.
‘Twelve mages fully backing Isaac’s research. Seven reluctant but necessary/coerced helpers.’
Nila, kindest to me. Blood-fear, wind cutter cast time screamed low talent.
Almost too good to be a mage I knew.
“Infection-suppression wound done... anesthesia...”
“Ah, that—skip today.”
“...Pardon?”
“I’m human too. Staring ceiling helpless sucks. At least walk room.”
“But no extra dose, you’ll hurt?”
“Tub solution plenty, hurts yeah but going mad otherwise. Idle, infection whispers nonstop. Need do something.”
Torn Nila sighed, loaded packaged leg on cart.
“...Tell no one? Caught, I say for subject consciousness/maintenance...”
“Yes, yes. Got it. Leave food on desk, go work.”
“Phew. Okay. Hurt bad, call no endure.”
Last worried glance back, cart-pulled out.
Creak—clank! Clank!
Key locked, stairs fading to silence.
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Yo, she gone?
- Deer Drug Please: Gone, gone.
Splash!
Professor confirmed alone, vaulted from tub.
“Time me!”
- Speed Wagon: Timer 5 min.
Post-mage charm, priority: regain body freedom.
Infection suppression three-fold: solution, wounds, Isaac’s spine-smashing.
Wounds consume factors for repair; mutant-blood tub sedates like tranquilizer.
Surrounded by same factors, body’s recognize complete infection, go dormant.
Yesterday test: hand out, soon itchy wriggles from fingertips, dizzy—plunged back.
Spine... surprisingly meaningless. Preemptive on arrival fearing rampage; Isaac kept shattered for easy handling. Psycho.
Persistent tearful begging: dropped spine-smash restraint. Wounds + solution only—today ditched anesthesia.
Time ticking. Out solution, factors activate soon.
First: dashed door, bit wrist for blood, slathered hinges generous.
‘Mutant blood rusts iron on contact. Dunno oxidation why, but my body mutant-like, blood should mimic.’
Heavy iron doors stress connections by weight. Weak spot? Crumbles fast.
Last time light anesthesia, creaky tried: scooped solution on hands, spilled shaking mess—unwanted suspicion.
“Minutes left!”
- Speed Wagon: 3:47
- Jokasss: Like watching speedrun escape room.
Post-corrosion: scattered saws everywhere. Pre-awakening ops left junk saws/tools galore. Collected, mutant-blood coated.
Sawing en route: desk parchments scattered whoosh.
“I read once, number your shares, read. Key info, report ASAP.”
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Cheat? Streamer bossing viewers? I’m 2.
- Speed Wagon: 3.
- Holy: 4 please.
- Heung An Mandu: 6.
- Speed Wagon: 3 done. Subject regen/metabolism study. Hair growth fast, nada else. I’ll 5.
- Take a Look: Haven’t started. 7 go.
- Jokasss: 8
Parchments: royals’ nonstop body research. Goldmine for me.
Wr wr!
“Grrk!”
Coming. Pain wringing whole body, sickly sweet scent swirling brain,
[...Give. To me...body...move....]
Mental Fragility seizure blanks mind.
Whoosh! Snap!
‘Slightly drooped door. Hidden rusty saw pile corner. Wet parchments. Shit, no tidy. My share unread, but eyes-on for chat decode...’
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Don’t force neck up, rest. Screenshots all.
‘...Sense in dumb spots.’
Crack! Grind!
“Grrraaah!! Uuugh!”
Infection factors twisting agony, Professor lurched solution vat.
Splash!
Anesthesia seeped skin slow, ambient mutant blood calming factors.
“Huuuugh, fucking... timer?”
- Speed Wagon: 4:43.
“Shit. Shorter.”
Time out-to-seizure down.
- Jokasss: Hey, Professor. Fun find. [Infection factors spread bodywide act as collective brain. Occupied brain like puppet on strings; real thought by factor cluster. Means smart entity’s factors move complex, faster infection....] You?
“Yup. That bastard. Chattering in head all day. Gaining control over body’s factors.”
Simple. Parasites galore in me, one alpha bossing rest.
Queenless autonomous. Biologically queen-like cells? Could control others.
‘Shrinking out-time his fault.’
Visits shorter. Now random sweet whiffs.
‘This rate... week max. 3 days min, or no more leeway.’
Aching from skimpy anesthesia, Professor shut eyes. Mental pollution fear—no deep sleep, light doze.
Three days’ morning routine.
***
Knock knock-
“Pardon. Professor? Awake inside-”
“Mm... Roman? You Roman?”
“Yeees~ Today’s lesson me~”
Sleepy soft trailing male voice. Experiment mage, Roman.
Lunchtime already.
‘Lucky today.’
Roman. Like Nila, favorable mage.
“Hahaha! Slept sound!”
“Thick nerves minus, I’m corpse.”
“Hahaha! Weird. Fun Professor, why others so prickly?”
“Dunno. You melt my tension special.”
“Ooh, mysterious! Never met outside!”
Professor smirked at overjoyed him.
‘No meet. But GG, not knowing you? Spy.’
Post-Isaac debate, grinding teeth eyes open—this guy? Hallucinating? Fancy here why...?
- Heung An Mandu: Roman Gacha-Man! Gacha! Gacha!
- Take a Look: O great Random God... save Professor...
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Fuck, my char ruined by that prick! Yo Professor! Avoid! Straight to abyss!
- Speed Wagon: Info - Rank 1 dodges Roman Gacha-Man too.
“...Roman Gacia Manson.”
“Hm? Said my name before?”
“Ah, overheard other mage.”
“Aha.”
Community fame over World 3 final boss Mutation Queen, official NPC power 1 Galadrion Sword—hero unit Roman Gacia Manson. A.k.a. Roman Gacha-Man.
‘Him. Escape key—only this guy!’
Eyed Roman’s unique World 3 back, Professor gleamed.
***
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