Monster Flower (2)
I swing Hope at the swarming mutants, unleashing a barrage of sword qi.
Splurt!! Blood and bodily fluids spray out like fountains. The horrific stench hits hard—who the hell knows what they're even made of. But I don't worry about getting my clothes soaked. Why? 'Fuck, the whole area's already drenched in that shit—what's the point of dodging now?' In the end, I fight covered head to toe in blood and goo, squelching with every move.
Honestly, that's not the real problem.
"Kyaargh!" Slash—
"Ah, fuck."
The real issue is shit like this. Every one of these mutants has finished some kind of upgrade, packing way more punch than your average ones. Take the last bastard—it flung its claws like sword blades, ripping a chunk out of my right forearm. If that goo gets in there, I'm lucky if it doesn't cause a secondary infection.
And amid all this, Heaven's Mechanism Calculation doesn't trigger. Heaven's Mechanism Calculation—whoosh—my body twists at a grotesque angle. Tentacles shooting up from the ground get dodged with a spin, and I use the momentum to smash it with a headbutt.
Thud!! Flesh bursts with a dull sound, and I, fresh from the brink of death, swallow a sigh of relief. 'Not now.'
It only kicked in right when I was about to die, just like before. 'Dodged a bullet there.'
If I'd missed that, it'd be anal rupture and a whole new sexual awakening. The first I could maybe tough out, but the second? No fucking way. Life as the shit-gay Jung Kkeokma? My five years of survival would be for nothing—Thanatos instincts might finally bloom.
'Hah, fuck.'
I barely clawed back from death's door, but it's no laughing matter. Heaven's Mechanism Calculation is a god-tier technique that auto-activates for miraculous survival rates, but the cost is steep. An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth—Hammurabi's Code can eat shit; this is equal exchange on steroids, draining a massive chunk of my inner energy.
Same here. Half my dantian reserves vanish like the tide going out. I rev up Absorption Great Law and Hope's blood-suck as a double core to refill stamina and energy, but that momentary gap creates openings in my movements.
The mutants pounce like rabid dogs. I whip Hope to fend them off, but—
Puke—!
"Ngh…!"
One finally lands a parting stab to my thigh before biting the dust. Amid the burning pain, I'm even more convinced. 'These fuckers are definitely not plain Type 1s.'
Not even 1.5s. At least 1.7s, maybe 1.8s. They fall just short of Type 2, but upgraded right to the ceiling of Type 1. Sure, I could grind them down one by one, but when they swarm like this? Different story.
How many have I sliced? Three digits at least!
"You fucking bastards!! Take a goddamn break and respawn!!"
I yell my lungs out, but they don't listen. 'This is a mess.'
Quiet dawn. Mutants charging like canyon demons on a losing streak. I hack through them, forcing a cheerful act, but I'm hitting my limit.
'What the hell is this?'
Beyond the crisis, a weird dissonance builds. 'No matter how I slice it, they feel off.'
Chopping up once-human things and saying that might make me sound like a psycho serial killer. But compared to the mutants I carved before facing the Monster Flower, this unease is real. 'The stamina and energy I absorb via Absorption Great Law is subtly less.'
Sure, stabbing Hope in and slurping isn't an option here—I'm slicing and snatching in split seconds, so efficiency drops. But this dissonance hits before that; it's their inherent vitality that feels wrong. Deadly in offense, but hollow in durability—like paper tigers.
Like glass knives? Attack-specialized in a zero-sum game, dumping all other stats.
And that pisses me off big time. I'm the type who drags fights into marathons, Sustaining itself by absorbing blood on hits, like a zombie. This kills my long-game efficiency.
As I ponder that, my vision flickers on one side.
Pill Master Sifu? The one DMing me mid-frenzy is my pill master sifu. Normally I'd welcome it, but every second is life-or-death—no spare attention...
"Yes!! Fuck yes!!" No brainer—yes. I nod like my nerves are snapping.
Every moment's do-or-die, but I gotta hear this.
Spot on. Pill Master Sifu's already pierced every doubt I had.
Digestion vat?
What.
'That... make sense?' Slash—I slice another side-rusher while thinking. No point questioning possibility in this world; impossibles are rarer. But one doubt lingers.
Yes, exactly. 'With that OP power, why not half-kill me and swallow direct?' If this is its giant gut, I'm tossed in whole. Sure, to a Monster Flower mukbanging two-week-rotten gluttony fission bodies, I'm fresh three-leg octopus snack—mouthwatering. But who swallows octopus whole without chewing? If it were a low-IQ star-spawned freak drooling only for food, fine. But this thing played dumb till I approached, dug a trap—it's got brains. So why—
"Ah, no way."
First swallow. Obvious what that means.
Gluttony Fission Body. The Type 3 mutant beat to near-death by Hope, flashed its desperate crotch in patriotism, but ultimately snagged by the Monster Flower and croaked. It's digesting that now. These 1.7-types sprouting endlessly? Just fodder to stall me till it's done.
Ultra-aggressive, reabsorb on death. Grasping the situation hits like a truck. 'Fuck, these are like pubes?' Keep shaving, they regrow—more slicing pointless. Legs nearly give out.
But they don't, for one reason. "Sifu! There! Has! To! Be! A way, right?!" Faith in Pill Master Sifu having a plan. I shout while shredding rushers.
As expected, no betrayal. Wait. 'If there is, just say yes. "Yeah, there's a way"—what's that?'
Suicide technique? "Hup!" Puke—! I ram Hope into a backstabber's gut. Unleash Absorption Great Law, slurping its life force. Channel it into crimson sword qi everywhere.
Hope Road. Blood Earth Dance. Blooming Blood Flower.
A split-second vacuum forms where red petals fall. I slam Hope deep into the ground and say, "A way to die? That's what I've tried most lately."
Man who's tried every death and failed, still alive. That's me.
"Spit out the plan already."
"Venue?"
"Of course not."
I know. Chance to nab the Monster Flower is now, before it fully digests the gluttony fission body. After? No shot.
"And then?"
So Pill Master Sifu directs me to leap into the Monster Flower's maw, laying out the next steps. Crisis times mean bare-bones messages on key points and conclusions. After absorbing it all, I can't hold back.
"…Sifu, this you or not-PillSeller?"