Chapter 1893 - 1892: The Trap

Wint City

The blonde girl sat amid a pile of wounded; a nurse was bandaging her arm, faint streaks of red staining her fair skin, seeping through the white gauze.

A blood-colored butterfly landed on her shoulder, its wings slightly folded.

She turned her head and looked at a nearby officer. "Has the call for reinforcements gotten out?"

"No," the officer shook his head. "We’ve already sent out three teams, but none of them broke through the blockade of the Rockville Energy Group and the Federation Central Army."

"How’s the situation at the high wall?" The blonde girl turned her head and looked at the towering city wall.

"We’ve already shot down three Sky Behemoths," the officer said in a low voice, "but they just keep sending more. The high wall can hardly hold out any longer."

At this point, he paused slightly.

"If there’s something, just say it," the blonde girl said quickly.

"We’re starting to run short on supplies inside the city," the officer looked at her and lowered his voice. "Over the past year or two, the Rockville Energy Group has been intentionally or unintentionally choking our trade routes. The city’s resources have always been barely enough. Even though Rock City previously sent us supplies, the transport capacity via the Northern Ice Field is limited to begin with. For a city as large as Wint City, these resources won’t last long."

Speaking of this, he let out a slight sigh. "No one expected that the first city the Consortium Alliance would attack with full force would actually be Wint City."

"Wint City is in the northwest to begin with, surrounded by the sphere of influence of the Rockville Energy Group. Dawn City is too far from us to lend a hand; the Rockville Energy Group has always seen us as a thorn in their eye, a spike in their flesh. That they came for us the moment the war started is only normal. We can only blame ourselves for not being prepared enough."

The blonde girl drew another breath and looked at the officer. "How much longer can the remaining supplies last?"

"Maybe just another day or two," the officer looked at her. "The warriors are already facing ammunition shortages. The missiles on the wall are almost all spent."

Here he paused again, took a deep breath. "The wall is probably going to be breached."

Hearing this, the blonde girl fell silent for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and asked in a low voice, "Any word from the reinforcements?"

"A few days ago Rock City said they had sent reinforcements, but the weather has already turned cold and the Northern Ice Field has frozen over. All other routes have been sealed by the Federation. For them to make it here, it’ll still take some time."

The officer answered in a low voice.

The blonde girl was silent for a moment.

Just then, the bandage on her arm was fully secured. She looked at the nurse who had wrapped it and gave a slight nod. "Thank you."

Then she put on the jacket on the ground, checked the Gauss Pistol and magazines inside the jacket, and stood up.

She turned her gaze to the other side.

A massive, scarred Mecha was fixed on a huge repair frame. Maintenance robots moved back and forth, rapidly repairing the key structures of the Mecha.

"Mayor Vili," the officer beside her hurriedly stood up and spoke quickly, "in your current physical condition, you can’t go back into battle. You should be in the hospital receiving treatment."

"I’m much better off than the soldiers on the battlefield," the blonde girl holstered the Gauss Pistol in her hand. "If they can fight, why can’t I? Let the warriors of Wint City slaughter it out on the front lines while I, the Deputy Mayor, lie in a hospital in the rear? There’s no such logic."

With that, she walked straight toward the giant Mecha.

The officer watched her back and said quickly, "Mayor Vili, the city is about to fall. You going up there now—what’s the difference between that and throwing your life away?"

His voice was a bit loud for a moment; some of the wounded nearby turned their heads to look at them.

"Then I’ll perish together with this city."

Vili did not look back. She simply slid the Gauss Pistol into the holster at her waist and walked straight ahead, toward the battered Mecha.

The blood-colored butterfly on her shoulder slightly opened its wings, left her shoulder, and flew toward the sky, toward the cloud-laden Firmament.

——

Vissen

Geslo’s body moved quickly along the narrow stairwell.

From time to time he stopped on certain floors, following He Ao’s instructions.

The entire building was unnervingly quiet, as silent as if no one lived there.

Geslo checked a few rooms; there were traces of daily life inside, but all of them were deserted.

The absolute stillness of the surroundings inevitably made him a little tense.

Before long, they reached the 15th floor and stepped from the stairwell into the corridor on that level.

This old building seemed to have once been some kind of cheap apartment. The floors were built very low, with various pipes running along the corridor ceiling, which had been dropped. It was just over two meters high; Geslo only had to stretch out his hand to touch the broken, ragged ceiling above.

The walls on both sides of the corridor were already covered in grime. One small door after another lined the corridor on either side, densely packed like a string of rusted beads pressed tightly together, looking oppressive and eerie.

The surroundings were eerily quiet.

Geslo moved quickly down the corridor.

The room at the stairwell exit had the number 1586 on its doorplate. This was clearly the end of the corridor, not its beginning.

And as Geslo advanced, the silent air around him seemed to grow thicker and thicker.

So thick that he could almost feel the heavy resistance of the air pressing against his body.

If it had been before, encountering something like this, he would only have found it a bit strange and wouldn’t have thought much of it.

But ever since entering that Interstitial Space of the Netherworld in the underground city, he had instinctively developed a kind of invisible fear toward such Abnormal situations.

This made him unconsciously quicken his pace.

Thud, thud, thud—

The sharp rhythm of his footsteps beat against the floor in the silent corridor, ringing out with crisp, hollow echoes.

The corridor wasn’t long, and Geslo’s speed was fast enough, yet in this silence he felt time stretch unbearably.

At last, he reached the other end of the corridor and stopped before the door marked 1505.

The lock on the rusted iron door had already been broken; the door was left ajar.

A faint coat of red paint, mottled with dark rust, was smeared across the door, like bloodstains that had not yet dried.

Geslo silently swallowed, one hand reaching into his pocket to pull out his Gauss Pistol, the other gripping the half-rusted doorknob. He applied slight pressure and pushed the door inward.

Wooo—

The old iron door let out a sharp, wailing screech, tearing through the long, narrow, silent corridor like some kind of alarm.

Geslo lowered his head, peering inside nervously, his hand gripping the gun tightly. He subconsciously asked in a low voice, "Old sir, are you still there?"

Just then, a slightly puzzled voice sounded. "Captain?"

Geslo looked up and saw a young special operations trooper standing in the doorway, head tilted up, staring at him in mild confusion.

Geslo shifted his gaze toward the interior of the room.

He saw several special operations troopers almost filling the cramped room, and at the far end of the room stood an old, battered bed.

An old woman with a face full of wrinkles sat at the foot of the bed, her eyes fixed on the other side of the mattress.

There, a man lay on the bed, and a person in a white coat, someone who looked like a Doctor, stood by his side, a scalpel in hand, seemingly cutting something out.

Another trooper stood beside the Doctor, operating some kind of device.

Anke was also standing in front of the bed, watching the "emergency surgery" on the bed with some nervousness.

A faint stench of rot was spreading through the room.

"Oh, you’re already here? Why didn’t you send a message as agreed and evacuate the personnel?" Geslo casually put away the Gauss Pistol in his hand, and asked with some curiosity, "What are they doing?"

"Anke’s brother’s leg is rotting pretty badly," the young team member replied, "he invited an underground Doctor, they’re dealing with the wound. Once the basic treatment is done, we’ll leave."

"For something like this, you should have reported to me first." Geslo said in a low voice.

"We sent you a message, but didn’t get a reply, we couldn’t reach you." the young team member said quickly.

At that time he should have been in the underground city, where there was no signal. Geslo let out a tiny sigh of relief and casually closed the door, "Let me see the message and log you sent me."

"Sure." The combatant gave him a slightly puzzled look, raised his hand, opened his wristband, and sighed, "Captain, how come your footsteps don’t make any sound, you just suddenly appeared, and you didn’t even say anything when you came over."

Geslo, whose attention had originally been focused on the team member’s wristband, suddenly froze, lifted his head, and glanced at the combatant’s cheek, "You didn’t hear my footsteps?"

"No." The combatant shook his head. At this moment he had already pulled up the message log, "Huh, why wasn’t the message sent out? I remember it was sent successfully!"

Geslo shifted his gaze over and glanced at his message log; on the log it clearly showed that the message had not been sent.

He raised his head and looked at the confused young team member.

Then he turned his gaze forward, at the underground Doctor performing the surgery, and the few team members gathered around the Doctor.

Ever since he came in, the people in front seemed to have been wholly absorbed in what they were doing, as if he had never entered.

"Don’t you think it’s a bit quiet here?" Geslo lowered his voice and asked softly.

"Is it?" The young team member lifted his head and looked around, "It does seem a bit quieter."

Geslo turned his head and glanced behind him; the door behind him had already been firmly shut.

Yet when he had just closed the door, he hadn’t used any force, and he remembered that the lock on this door was broken, it shouldn’t be able to stay closed.

He reached out, pulled at the doorknob, and couldn’t move it.

He suddenly used force.

Ka—

The rust-covered handle was directly torn off, letting out a booming sound.

Geslo looked at the rusted handle in his hand and was momentarily stunned.

Then he turned his head and looked behind him.

The young team member seemed somewhat puzzled by his actions.

And the people inside the room were still busy with their own business, as if they had not heard any sound.

"Old sir, are you still there?" Geslo called out in a low voice.

But there was no response.

He glanced at the door that had already been sealed shut, took a deep breath, turned around, and walked toward the group performing the "surgery" ahead.

The air was thick with a strong stench of rot.

The excised rotten flesh had been piled onto an iron tray.

He lowered his head and looked at the figure on the bed.

The Doctor was still performing the "surgery", working on the flesh of the man’s leg on the bed.

And that man also seemed to have been anesthetized, silently watching the Doctor’s movements.

But at this moment, the rotten flesh on the man’s leg had long since been cleaned away.

The Doctor was already cutting into the healthy flesh of his leg.

Yet the man still had no reaction, and the people around had no reaction either.

Geslo turned his gaze and looked to the side at Anke, and asked, "Is the surgery finished?"

Anke turned his head, naturally looking at Geslo, "Captain Geslo? You’re here?"

He quickly said, "My brother is in surgery, once it’s done we’ll leave. I’ll have to trouble you to wait a bit."

"Is your brother’s surgery finished?" Geslo repeated the earlier question.

"Not yet, it’s only just started," Anke shook his head. He turned his gaze back to the movements on the bed, "There’s still so much ’meat’ left, it hasn’t all been cut off."

Geslo looked at the man’s leg on the bed, where the bone was already exposed, and felt a faint chill creep up his spine.

He took a deep breath and asked again, "Is your brother’s surgery finished?"

"Why do you keep asking the same question," Anke glanced at Geslo, then looked at the man on the bed ahead, "Isn’t it not—"

As he spoke, his thoughts suddenly halted, as if someone had lightly knocked on his skull.

In that instant, he seemed to be awakened from a Dream, his body giving a slight shudder, then he looked at Geslo, and again at the man on the bed.

"Something’s wrong!" He quickly reached out, stopping the underground Doctor who was about to continue cutting, "Doctor, the surgery is already finished, isn’t it?"

"Not yet," the Doctor gave him a puzzled look, "this surgery isn’t finished."

"All the rotten flesh has been cleaned up!" Anke said hurriedly.

"Are you the Doctor, or am I?" The Doctor glanced at Anke, "You have to clean up all the ’meat’. Only when there’s nothing left but bone is it best."

"No, that’s wrong." Anke hastily grabbed hold of the Doctor.

And in that instant, the entire world suddenly fell silent; the Doctor, who had been about to push Anke away, froze in place.

All the warriors of the special-operations squad also froze where they stood.

Everything around them seemed to have had the pause button pressed; only Anke and Geslo appeared to still retain the ability to move.

They lifted their gazes, looking around with some helplessness.

A slightly chilly wind blew through the room, and dim darkness rose from the floor beneath their feet, slowly Swallowing the floor, Swallowing their steps.

Some unseen, suffocating aura slowly spread out from around them.

"Ah~"

A clear, highly penetrating singing voice seemed to drift from afar, passing through time, space, and buildings, passing through everyone’s soul.

"This is..." Anke stared at all of this in a daze.

"It’s a trap—" Geslo took a deep breath and said, his voice slightly trembling.

The power being displayed here had already far exceeded his understanding.

But to deal with him and Anke, there was naturally no need for such a high-level trap; one look and you could tell this kind of trap was meant for some existence whose realm was so powerful it defied comprehension.

Then this trap could have only one target.

"Denos," a slightly hoarse voice, impossible to tell whether male or female, slowly sounded in this dim space, accompanied by that song which pierced the Soul, "won’t you come out and meet me?"