"After them!" A group of Black-robed people instantly gave chase.
The middle-aged man leading them was in a foul mood; everything around them felt wrong, especially the moon overhead—it proved they'd arrived in some unknown place.
"Those two heretics must be behind this. Catch them—I'll wring every secret of this place from their mouths!" The man roared, never breaking stride.
Tap-tap-tap!
Footsteps echoed through the silent city.
After they ran past the single-story houses, something in the darkness within began to stir, as though something eerie had awakened.
The group threaded through gray-blue alleys barely two meters wide—only two could run abreast.
The line of Black-robed people stretched out at once.
At the very rear was a freckled youth clutching a machete.
"Hah… hah… hah…" After running so long, his stamina was nearly spent.
Tap!
Just then, a soft footstep sounded behind him.
He spun around—nothing but empty air.
'Am I so tired I'm hearing things?' He shook his head and kept chasing.
This place felt deeply unsettling; he had no wish to fall behind and be left alone.
Tap! The footstep came again, clearer now. He whirled—still no one.
"Who the hell's there—show yourself!" he snarled over his shoulder, though the tremor in his blade hand betrayed his fear.
Behind him: only cold moonlight, a silent alley, gray-blue houses.
An uncanny aura pressed in; the youth cracked and spun to rejoin the group.
But the moment he turned, the squad ahead vanished; the clamor that had carried dozens of meters now ceased entirely.
Ahead, identical gray-blue walls and houses; silence broken only by his own heartbeat.
"Malachi, Hall, Morrison, Taylor—where are you?!" Terror twisted his face as he screamed, eyes bulging, spittle flying.
No answer—only stillness.
Tap! That earlier footstep returned, now right at his back, as though pressed against him.
His face drained of color; a chill washed over him from behind.
He tried to slash with his knife, but his arm refused to obey.
His head turned of its own accord—and met, at zero distance, a woman's face: deathly pale, hair disheveled, eyes pure black.
Sweat beaded on his brow; his eyes rolled uncontrollably.
Behind him loomed a creature: black-clad, 1.5 meters tall, its neck a meter long, dangling from mid-air to press its face to his.
"Ah—aaaah!!!"
The scream from behind made the pursuing Black-robed people halt and glance back.
The cry sounded familiar.
The leader scanned the group—one man missing. His face darkened. "Where's Garden? Where the hell is he?"
Among them, a youth hesitated. "Sacrifice Master… that scream—it was Garden!"
In the church, whoever presided over a district's rites was titled Sacrifice Master—the lowest rung of leadership.
"What do we do—go back?"
"Something's wrong here—should we pull out?"
Voices rose in clamor; the eerie setting had them spooked, and they'd only kept chasing because nothing monstrous had shown itself—till now.
They were churchmen; they believed in every evil spirit, especially since their own ranks held those with uncanny powers.
The Sacrifice Master, hearing his men waver, felt his own resolve crumble—and their pause had let Nelly and Maggie vanish ahead.
"Move—leave this place!" He ordered, starting off.
He didn't retrace their steps; instead he chose a new direction.
Garden had vanished along their incoming path—danger lay that way.
Thud-thud-thud!
Heavy footfalls sounded from the left-hand corner.
The Black-robed people turned to see a hulking, three-meter-tall, gray-green, rotting ogre, clutching a meter-long club that faintly gleamed.
Thud-thud-thud! The moment it spotted them, it burst forward with impossible speed, club smashing down on the nearest Black-robed man.
Bang! The victim's head and torso burst like tofu, blood and flesh spraying those nearby.
"Aargh!" A middle-aged gunner leveled his musket and fired straight into the monster's gut.
lead shot tore through comrades' vicinity and thudded into the ogre's belly.
Splat! A spurt of black blood; the ball left only a shallow dent amid the Black-robed people's horrified stares.
"Run!" The Sacrifice Master's eyes widened; he spun into a side alley.
The rest scattered in panic.
The ogre's blank black eyes fixed on one unlucky straggler and pounded after him.
More monstrous shapes flickered in the shadows, all hunting the scattered Black-robed people.
Even Nelly and Maggie, racing ahead, met danger: three rotting, 1.5-meter-tall direwolves ringed them.
Nelly raised his pistol and snapped off rapid shots at the nearest wolf.
Bang! The bullet punched into the wolf's back—but the beast was already dead, unfazed.
"Grrr!" All three wolves lunged with a roar… In the cavern, Jiang Yan turned from the TV.
From the white mist, the Lord of the Mist appeared.
It looked to Jiang Yan. "Master, the intelligent creature you requested has been captured. Will you inspect it?"
"Oh?" Jiang Yan hadn't expected a target so soon after the recent upgrade.
He rose, calm. "Let's go."
The star seal in his hand flickered, signaling the Laboratory to send someone ahead.
'To take specimens out I'd have to kill them; maybe I can set up a research base inside.' Jiang Yan mused as he walked.
The idea seemed perfect—live subjects for study, no need to remove corpses.