Chapter 380
Chapter 380
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: Travel Preparations (3)
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"Come on, remember those old grip strength tests? Give it a tight squeeze~"
*Crunch—snap!*
"Nice~ Next up, how about we check your eyesight? Here?"
"Three."
"And here?"
"Seven."
"Lower down?"
"Airplane."
"Next to that?"
"Nine... Wait, why keep testing the same size?"
"Because one’s regular vision, and the other’s infrared projection. You weren’t supposed to see that one, but you did?"
"....Huh?"
After a brief reunion with the people outside in what looked like a military warehouse lab.
What awaited me wasn’t a booze-fueled vent session or a welcome-back party for my long ordeal.
It was a long, tedious round of tests.
Medically speaking, I’d been declared brain-dead and revived, and as a patient who’d undergone unprecedented neural recovery via data soul, they needed to confirm full control over every bodily function.
They had me grip the hydraulic press-style dynamometer we’d tested my mutated left arm on before.
In a lab the size of a gym (with faint bloodstains scrubbed from spots here and there), I walked, ran, and pulled off gymnast-level maneuvers.
Vision, hearing, touch, taste, temperature response—every check imaginable.
The result?
"Congratulations! Looks like you’re no longer something we can call Homo sapiens?"
....That definitive verdict. Damn. Speaking of which, this doctor—she’s the same one I met right after my brain turned to mush. The one who talks like a psychopath on steroids. What’d she say back then? Something about having two hearts making me great at soccer?
"Your name was... Chelsea, right?"
"Cheisha. Cheisha Lutherfurg. I used to research gene-assisted evolution theory; now I’m into mutant evolution systematics. And I’m your attending physician."
"Attending physician, huh... So I can ask you some questions? Mind telling me exactly what state my body’s in right now?"
"Knew you’d be curious."
She fiddled with the computer in the corner of the lab, and a massive screen on one wall lit up with three figures.
"First one’s familiar, right?"
"Yeah. Lived in that body for quite a while. Got pretty used to it, too."
The first was from the Dome-Raptor War through the Zone 38 incident. Back when only my left arm was mutated.
"As you can see, just one arm fully shifted to Type-3 mutant form. No death-related changes, but the 'Professor' consciousness handed subconscious control of the left arm to 'Hide,' making the mutant virus perceive it as dead tissue. Oh, how’s Hide doing, by the way?"
"....Left him behind. Inside."
"Oh my. Guess most of the psych evals are off the table then. Anyway, I heard most of that mutated form followed the shape Hide admired subconsciously. Hardness rivaling superalloys, aggressive hooked claws, immense strength. It mimicked the game avatar’s strengths while patching weaknesses, but it burdened the main body. If you’d stayed like that long-term, the arm would’ve gotten tougher, and the rest of you would’ve withered away."
"....I do remember eating a ton more, but didn’t notice much else."
"Records show increased intake, elevated blood pressure, dropping body fat, skyrocketing liver values, and subtle hormone shifts. Can’t say for sure, but living with just the arm mutated? Longevity would’ve been tough."
"How long?"
"Based on the progression... Eight? Nine years from the records? Then high blood pressure or malnutrition would’ve done you in. Though you’d probably have amputated the arm before that."
Fair enough. No way that irregular state could last.
"Life’s full of twists, huh? A blessing in disguise? Without Zone 38, you’d have peaked young and died even younger. Oh, sure, you did technically die post-incident, medically speaking."
The screen shifted to the second form.
Building-height torso.
The left arm mutation spread body-wide, encased in hardened outer shell.
In GG, it’d been musclebound humanoid. This? A beast mimicking human shape. Legs better suited to all fours than bipedal. Thick, near-black dark crimson flesh.
The form Hide had used till I left.
Pure Type-3 mutant Professor.
"This is your first time seeing it outside the data I showed you last time, right?"
"....I’ve had indirect glimpses."
"Trust me, it’ll shock you more than you think."
The screen changed, showing the monster lying in the very lab where I’d woken.
Body filling the room, strapped to a massive metal frame. Thick vein-like cables jabbed everywhere. Chest wide open, guts exposed, just like I’d seen.
"What do you think?"
"What do I think..."
"Isn’t it beautiful? This near-artistic perfection! A miraculous balance human engineering can’t touch! Human flesh, more intricate than a Swiss watch, twisted to extremes yet perfectly tuned!"
....Ah, so that’s her type.
Seeing the doctor’s eyes sparkle at ‘that form,’ I got why she specialized here.
"Look. The blood pressure needed for left-arm strength crushed the main body, right? Countermeasure: two hearts. They beat in organic sync, pumping blood naturally to every corner of that huge frame. Limbs strong and flexible, tanking tank rounds without buckling."
"Yeah, well... kinda cool—"
"Not done yet! The head! That’s where all these mutations prove their perfect purpose!"
‘....What was I even thinking back then?’
Pretty sure I just got blasted by Orpheus beam, screamed, and crawled up.
Cheisha wiped drool from her mouth and worked the computer.
Projection of the beast’s head—fridge-sized oxygen mask, MRI’d like a hasty retrofit.
"See? Thin layers between scalp and skull."
"Yeah, I see them."
"Nothing else?"
"Uh.... There’s a dark blob inside."
*Thwack!*
Cheisha smacked the screen with her binder.
"That’s the point! MRI shows scalp and skull, but no brain! Those layers—fat and electrolytes—block external ultrasound and waves hard! Professor! 'Dome’s Hero' Professor! Right before that change, in Zone 38—what were you thinking?"
"Uh.... Gotta stop Orpheus?"
*Grab!*
Like she’d waited for it, Cheisha seized my right hand and shook it wildly.
"Exactly! Normally, mutant virus mutates based on deepest past experiences. But yours? Current memories and thoughts! Huge difference! Proof of a new mutant type beyond 'Adapters'!"
"Uh, yeah...."
"Means people with 'Completer' mental traits might guide mutations! Find that crossover, and future humanity could control and harness the virus!"
"Humanity controlling the mutant virus..."
Her words conjured her vision. People mutating at will. Neighbor lady slime-stretching arms two meters to hang laundry. Insulator electrician dangling off high-voltage lines with rubbery body. Giant laborer pounding rebar concrete....
‘....Doesn’t exactly scream ‘humanity’s future,’ does it?’
Dystopia over utopia, but she saw it differently.
"Anyway, your mutations tie tightly to real-world needs. And your current form proves it again."
Screen flipped once more.
Past the long, boring old-form rundown, finally to now.
"See? Bigger, sure, but way less inhuman than Form 2."
"....How tall am I now?"
"About 198cm. Tall, but not freakish."
Original me: 175cm. 23cm growth in months.
Thanks, mutant virus.
"Compared to game footage—Changebai Province, right? After you soloed chaos there, brainwaves stabilized hard, body shrank to average build. Mental-physical disconnect easing..."
Then came babble on parasympathetics, mutant psych, etc.
Half-listening, I eyed my body through the patient gown.
First: left arm human again. No claws, no dark crimson shell. Bit buffer than right, but traces gone.
"Left arm revert—when?"
"....Hour ago? Was Form 1—mutated arm only—then shell flaked off suddenly. Engineering dept loved the material."
"Hour ago..."
In-game, GG-time five hours back. Around solo queen-kill in north nest. Hide sensed clear, prepped to leave solo. Arm was his turf.
Build normal-ish, but dark crimson shell patches lingered. Not full cover—embedded chunks.
"These..."
"Like vestigial traces. Prior shell wasn’t seamless—one-piece plates fused. These are root remnants. Bug wing-stubs, human tailbone."
"No excision? Kinda ugly."
"Not skin-deep—grows from bone. Full bone removal, maybe. Oh, and FYI: no regen. Push like inside there, you die."
More to accept.
Superhuman strength, grip especially. Below industrial robot, around Raptor cyborg or bit better. Control familiar from game.
Skeleton shell-hardened like outer skin. Tank tracks’d snap it, they said.
Eyes: sharpish vision, plus nictitating membrane like reptiles. Infrared numbers? That. How? She stared like ‘why ask me?’
Skin tougher, animal-like. Sensitive nerves—sharper pain maybe.
Explanation droned like appliance manual, till the weirdest bit.
Chest.
Bolts and plate attached.
Exposed part fist-sized, but screw depth said wide inside.
And edges: fingernail gap.
Plate.
Slot.
Huge-form chest: gaping wide.
‘Nah, no way. Hero teetering life-death brink.’
Even crazies wouldn’t. Vague mod joke before? Not on a human body.
*Click.*
‘....No way.’
*Scraaaape.*
.
.
.
.
.
*Creaaaak—*
"Gyaaaah!!!!"
Felt it. Definitely!
Plate lifted—chest innards cooled oddly!
Not abstract—moist guts aired out, refreshing! Heartbeat heard via ears, not felt!
Tugged slot: chest plate swung open.
Like vault door. Heavy.
"What the hell did you do to my body?"
"Sorry. Core in chest was tricky."
"This a joke? Modding me without consent?"
Frantic rescan: nothing mechanical elsewhere but chest.
My panicked glare sparked no reaction; Cheisha continued calmly.
"Psh, without consent?"
"Huh?"
"Unconscious patients? Consent from guardian."
Pointed outside at guardian.
"....Who?"
"Dana Elisha Hyacinth. And your two closest friends. Even got Chancellor’s approval. Big operation. Sourced fitting materials—sent whole BDSM crew past Zone 45. Called every mutant byproduct expert for all-nighter debates, surgery designs."
"Chest hole wouldn’t heal. Decision time. Footage showed: Orpheus destruction—most beam exposure there."
"Oh, that."
"Zone 38 Dome Chancellor. Remember? Salvaged Orpheus wreckage, hooked to radio tower, spread energy. Ruined core alone sparked 2.5-Types across Central Asia. You smashed it in your arms just before—miracle it’s only this bad."
Honestly, blanked on details.
"Anyway, Orpheus core exposure fixed your chest ‘permanently’ unhealable. Couldn’t leave it open, so patched. Not suicide cyborg complication-fest—proper livable fix."
Skin, ribs, pecs melted.
Tried old-school medtech max—rejection, peeling, festering.
Ian suggested mutant byproduct tech.
"Nascent, but promising. All modern humans carry latent virus. Mutated bodies graft rejection-free. Virus compatibilizes, stabilizes joints."
Virus as bio-glue.
Debated materials: Zone 45’s flexible metal-skin Type-3 best. Commissioned BDSM hunt....
Met Thousand Stream Emperor massacring mutants there.
Stashed him at BDSM training site.
Metal skin from that Type-3 now patched on my chest.
"That’s you now. Feel alive yet?"
"Uh, yeah...."
Flicked chest: *tng*—metallic echo from inside.
....Yeah, felt saved from death. Better than 10m ‘Dome Secret Weapon Professor.’ ‘Polka-Dot Iron Professor’ fine. Ignore weirdness—near original—
*Creaaaak—*
"Okay, now what’s in the rib-muscle void instead? Starting with this broadband comms unit—"
"Eeeek!"
....Lots different. Very.
With explanation, Cheisha handed appliance-manual-thick binder. By dusk, I’d crammed meds, ‘body use cautions,’ anomaly responses, fixes.
"....Status window?"
"Pardon?"
"Nah, nothing."
"Hmm. Anyway, graft sites need periodic maintenance like gun imports—"
Manuals, crisis manual-heartbeat tricks... Reality or still GG? Dizzying.
****
*Clunk!*
"Remember today’s lessons. Visit Admin daily for checkups short-term. Don’t forget meds!"
"Got it."
Thus ended the shocking, boring ‘Professor User Manual’ lecture.
Outside: familiar face waiting.
"Alone? Others?"
"Ian, Vex busy. Me? Rehabbing in Admin ward anyway. They’re off prepping."
"....Rehab?"
"Yeah. Rehab. While you fought inside, I pushed too."
*Whirr—*
Dozing in wheelchair? Dana smoothed messy hair—
Stood, approached me.
"Surgery good, but legs atrophied from no walking. Tons of practice needed."
"So.... Heart’s better now?"
"Somewhat? Still need support."
Careful steps, clung to my arm.
Up close: face red to ears, belying casual tone. Like rehearsed forever for this.
Adorable.
Sensing my gaze, she hid behind dangling arm.
"World changed a lot while you were gone. Let’s go. Tons to show."
"Speech pattern shifted?"
"This is my real one. Just... needed time adjusting before. Haven’t face-to-faced real people in ages."
Right. Original her. Speed Wagon. My 7-year buddy.
Still stiff, flat tone. But emotions rich underneath.
World, people—changed heaps without me.
"....Yeah, let’s go. Wanna see how much."
Her head bowed on my arm sparked memory: what I wanted outside.
"Food first. Starved."
Proper meal for my Dana, not hospital slop.
Clothes for girl with just white gown, black mourning.
Wheelchair dust-wasteland tour.
Uh, and... anyway.
Tons to do.
*Fwap!*
Tossed lab coat, slipped into leather jacket hooked on lab door.
Tailored black leather to my size.
Sharp ‘BDSM’ graffiti-style emblem.
Plus, golden initials hand-stitched above—short someone’s work. H.
"Suits?"
"....A bit."
Dana.
My crew, old pals’ initials.
So what if body changed? Still me.
Uneasy heart calmed instantly.
Dana and I strode confidently from Admin, into Dome’s night streets.
****
*Thud-thud-thud-thud*
『Professor! Professor! Profeeeessoor!!!』
『The Pioneer rises from death!』
『La Tura! La Tura Professor!』
『No gods, no devils! But Professor’s here! Right before our eyes!!!』
*Boom!*
"Huff, huff—w-why from folks who know me? Smart ones too."
"Sorry...."
"We’ll control here—back door out. Welcome back."
"Yes...."
Buried in ‘Light Church Wasteland Branch’ mob at front gate, escaped via Inspectorate help.
"....Light Church? Here too?"
"Told you. Changed a lot."
"Not that kinda change...."
Our boldness didn’t last.
....Really changed. A lot.
****