Unholy Player

Chapter 433: Bloody Clues

For a second, a heavy silence settled over the room before one of the City Managers finally answered. "Doctor Lucian Cure is the head of the Genetic Engineering Department. He has worked for the government in Shelter City 9 for more than 30 years, and he has been active at the Player Headquarters since its construction."

The elderly Manager of Shelter City 9 spoke with complete certainty. Yet Adyr did not look satisfied as his gaze moved to the others.

"H-he’s been my colleague since our university years," one of the lead researchers blurted, answering quickly after meeting Adyr’s eyes.

Even Victor, Selina, and Eren, who met Adyr’s gaze, seemed to know who the man was, which only made the situation worse.

Adyr was not someone who would forget a face or a name after seeing it once. With his authority, he had reviewed every researcher, every employee, even the janitors working at the Player Headquarters, committing to memory every person who passed through these doors.

Now, while everyone insisted on a name and a title, he could not recall such a person at all.

Realizing something was wrong, the pressure in the room climbed another notch. Everyone already tense felt their bodies press into their seats, a stiffness running through their limbs as if they had been pinned in place.

Soon, a second sensation layered over that presence, one none of them had felt before, as if someone were looking down on them and peering straight through their insides; their deepest secrets felt exposed, and the room filled with a hot flush of shame.

It was not only the 33 people inside the room who were feeling this disturbing sensation. Across the entire Player Headquarters, thousands of personnel were feeling the same thing as Adyr’s Presence and Gaze combined and washed over the building.

Adyr kept spreading his Presence into every corner, summoning every detail of the vast structure before his mind like a high-resolution display, and he began to search for Marielle and Niva.

Only a few seconds later, he rose from his seat, and then a sharp crack split the air as a rush of wind swept over everyone, forcing them to shield their faces.

When they opened their eyes again, his chair was empty and the conference room door hung in shattered pieces.

Henry Bates, finally understanding that there was a serious problem, tapped his wrist device and sent an immediate message. "Initiate the Red Alert protocol. Lock down the entire building, and wherever you find Doctor Lucian Cure, judge him under Code 3."

After Henry’s order was completed, the City Managers cut in to correct his judgment.

"Lockdown is not enough. Start the evacuation procedure."

Whatever was coming, the City Managers had enough experience and instinct to know they had no power to intervene; all they could do was move people out before the approaching catastrophe arrived.

—

After leaving the conference room, Adyr headed straight for the operating ward, where his mother and Niva were scheduled for their gene-mutation procedures.

Just now, when he used his Gaze and Presence together to find them, for some reason, it did not work. He could see the building perfectly, floor by floor and room by room, but he could not locate them, as if they had vanished or as if some power had thrown a veil over his vision and rendered them invisible.

So he did not waste another second. He tore down the corridors at full speed, his shoulders and palms slamming through doors before their sluggish locks could cycle, hinges shrieking as sheets of metal crumpled like foil in front of his high [Physique].

When a wall cut his line, he drove a heel through concrete and rebar, stepped through the collapsing gap, and kept moving.

Fluorescent lights flickered whenever he passed, ceiling dust rained in pale veils, and shockwaves rolled along the tiles. By the time he reached the correct floor, the only thing he left behind were destroyed corridors.

At the operating room door, he placed his hand on the reinforced metal and pushed; the panel buckled like paper, folded in on itself, and ripped wide enough to let him pass.

As soon as he went inside, the first thing that struck him was the heavy reek of blood—a coppery scent that flooded his senses.

His slight frown vanished, and his face became cold and entirely without expression as he took in the scene.

Inside, 2 bodies lay on 2 surgical tables; yet to call them bodies required imagination.

The first belonged to a young woman. He recognized that much from the long dark hair that framed a face stripped to the skull and from the naked body that had been professionally disassembled and reassembled, each part set in a place it did not belong.

Legs were fixed where arms should have been, and arms were grafted where legs should have gone, each joint and tendon redirected with meticulous, clinical cruelty.

The second body belonged to a man, recreated with the same treatment. His face was also flayed of all skin, leaving a bloody skull with 2 eyeballs staring at the empty ceiling.

Adyr approached in small steps, studying the professionally remade forms as the realization clicked into place.

"Doctor Eliot and Nurse Mira," he murmured, and at the same time, he understood that they were still alive, still breathing in thin, trembling pulls.

Doctor Eliot’s bare eyeballs slid toward him, terror sharpening their glassy focus. The man’s skinless mouth tried to move, the sound scraping through the room in a dry whisper. "H-hehh..." The plea for help came out as breath alone.

Adyr kept his composure, held his gaze for a second more, and turned to leave without a word.

Even if he asked where Marielle and Niva were, there would be no answer, and there was no point in wasting time on a dead-end interrogation.

After leaving the room, he paused in the corridor and searched for any trace left behind.

He was sure that whoever had taken his mother and sister and left these two in this condition was sending him a message and had definitely left more clues behind.

He did not have to look long.

At the far end of the corridor, something crimson caught the light inside the ventilation grate on the ceiling.

He walked toward it for a clearer view, and as the angle opened, he saw another blood-painted scene waiting there.

He could see that the space behind the vent grilles was crammed with meat, as if someone had chopped bodies into pieces, packed them tight, and snapped the cover shut to hide the mess.

Realizing it was another message born of the culprit’s sick humor, Adyr reached up, sprang, and tore the vent cover free. The screws tore loose with a screech. The panel bent in his grip, and everything inside sloughed forward in a wet slide.

What came down were 4 arms, still fresh. They did not hit the floor. Each forearm hung from the vent frame on slick loops of intestine, the lengths stretched and knotted to hold the weight. Blood trickled down in thin lines, tapping the tiles.

The clue left behind was unmistakable. All 4 hands had their index fingers fixed straight ahead, each one aligned to the same angle, all pointing to a single corridor at the junction and showing Adyr exactly which way to go.