Chapter 15
Chapter 15
"January 10th. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d never have believed what this child did. The spoon simply floated up and twisted into different shapes at his whim…
January 13th. He said he felt someone watching him—many, many eyes. He admitted he was terrified…
January 16th. He seems unafraid now, even smiling occasionally, though he’s grown quiet…
January 17th. All test results are normal. None of us six can explain what’s happening to this child…
January 19th. He’s started drawing. His parents insist he never showed artistic talent before, yet his sketches are eerily realistic…
January 22nd. He demands endless paper and pencils, drawing nonstop. He only draws faces—human faces that’ve grown increasingly grotesque and horrifying…
January 25th. Blood-smeared faces appeared on the walls. We found a dead sparrow in his ward. His hands were clean, which unsettled me. I remembered the spoon…
January 26th. The corridor’s windows vanished overnight. Surveillance footage shows only static. Who can I turn to? The police? They’d lock me up for madness…
January 30th. Li Cha is missing. The remaining five of us are frantic. More blood faces appeared, but this time… we didn’t find his body?
January 31st. I must leave. I’ll request leave until the child dies of illness… No. Resignation is better.
February 1st. I think I’m trapped. There’s no way out. If anyone reads this, remember: he fears [text smudged]! Kill him if you get the chance! Don’t hesitate—or you’ll die!"
………
Feng Bu Jue and Wang Tan Zhi turned a corner. The corridor ahead was brightly lit but doorless, with pristine white walls. Dozens of meters ahead lay a T-junction.
Feng summarized the notebook’s contents, softening the horror. Still, Wang’s face paled, his skin prickling.
“We’re not facing a ghost,” Feng concluded. “It’s a child with psychic powers, mentally corrupted by illness. At least that’s the scenario’s setup.”
“What good does knowing this do?” Wang muttered, tension thick in his voice.
“First, realizing it’s human—not a spirit—should ease your fear,” Feng replied. “Second, he’s corporeal. We can punch him.”
“You think the notebook writer or other victims didn’t try?” Wang asked, alarmed. “They weren’t just two people!”
“Did they have Explosive Divine Fist?” Feng countered.
“Bro Feng, what if we hadn’t found this skill? Or if our martial arts skills weren’t unlocked? Or skipped the puzzles?”
“Then we’d face a choice: fight or flee,” Feng said. “Without solving puzzles, we’d have to guess based on vitality loss after engaging. That’s harder under fear and death threats.
But now, understanding the scenario, I’m certain: our only chance is to run. Fighting means death. So I think escaping is a valid way to clear this stage.”
“Then aren’t we in the same danger as before solving puzzles?!” Wang exclaimed.
“No. At least in the second room, you gained a skill,” Feng said. “In the third, we learned his weakness. Now, whether we fight or flee, our odds are better.”
“What about my 20% skill? And the weakness clue was smudged by blood!”
“The system gives a simple deduction,” Feng explained. “Combine the notebook’s context, analyze his actions, strip away distractions—the clues are as clear as a monster dossier.” As he spoke, they entered a vast lobby. The ceiling soared, lights blazed, but walls sealed every direction.
“January 10th: telekinesis. 16th: personality shift. 19th: awakening instincts. 25th: mind control over living things. 30th: killing humans. February 1st: godlike slaughter,” Feng recited coldly. “The weakness clue? January 26th and what we’ve seen.” He paused. “He fears sunlight.”
“But it’s so—” Wang’s “bright” was cut off.
“Sunlight. Not artificial light,” Feng clarified. “The first ward-like room felt off. No windows, even ignoring the bloodshed. I suspected an underground facility. But the second and third rooms had no windows either. Why? Spatial distortion explains the eerie scenes, but the notebook clarified: a hint.”
He pointed at the ceiling lights. “Even these are hints. He fears sunlight but needs artificial light. Either he needs light to function—like us in the dark—or darkness terrifies him because something watches him there…”
Suddenly, the girl-like giggle echoed again, closer this time.
They now knew the source: a boy, not a ghost, who painted with blood.
Yet even prepared, Wang’s heart pounded. He gripped his fruit knife, palms sweating.
“Put the knife away,” Feng said. “It’s useless.”
“Bro… you… you have a plan?”
“Yes.” Feng pointed at a wall. “Use your skill on that spot.”
Before he finished, the boy—scenario Boss—materialized three meters ahead. In his hospital gown, even under artificial light, shadows cloaked his body and face. Instantly, blood faces erupted across the lobby’s walls, ceiling, floor. The lights turned crimson.
The scene could make a man scream, but Feng hesitated not a second. He lunged at the 1.2-meter-tall boy. “Attack the wall—now!”
Wang bolted toward Feng’s indicated spot. His first leap was pure panic, legs wobbling mid-run. Glancing back, he saw Feng hurled backward by an invisible force—like crashing into a moving truck—spewing blood.
But this was a game. Pain capped at a fingertip smashed by a hammer.
Wang sprinted harder. The boy noticed him now, chasing—not teleporting, but unnaturally fast, like a puppet jerked by strings.
Suddenly, Feng grabbed the boy’s ankle, rising swiftly to drag him down. Feng’s height advantage made short work of the chase.
At the wall, Wang’s fist erupted in orange light. He struck.
The skill’s 20% chance didn’t matter—hitting a wall was inevitable. Success.
The explosion tore a meter-wide hole. Blinding sunlight poured in.
The blood faces vanished. The boy recoiled, fleeing the light.
But Feng still gripped his leg.
“That attack cost me 84% vitality… My turn now.” Feng yanked, slamming the boy down. Powerless, he curled, shielding his eyes.
Feng wiped blood from his lips, dragging the boy toward the light. “This Boss is tough. Even direct hits might not kill him. You’d waste skills.”
Wang exhaled. “What if I’d missed the wall? Or if it led to another corridor?”
“If it’s night, hide in darkness. If a corridor, run. If the wall held… find another escape,” Feng said. “But I was confident. Hospital layouts hint at exits. See? Corridors on both sides. Behind me, walls hide a reception desk—” He hoisted the Boss into the sunlight.
“Isn’t this cruel?” Wang asked, watching the boy writhe.
“You’re right. I’m terrible.” Feng didn’t stop. Old habits died hard.
“I could release him, let him hide, and escape through the hole,” Feng said. “But this Boss is strong. Even with our progress, fighting him directly is near impossible. Killing him grants far more experience than fleeing.”
“You care about experience now?” Wang blinked.
Feng smirked, shoving the boy deeper into the light. “Three reasons:
First, I’ll recoup my Gaming Pod investment through this game. Second, these scenarios are brilliant—generated from player memory fragments. Team survival mode’s stories will be gold for my research. Third… I’m still chasing fear itself…”
He snapped his fingers. Wang handed him the fruit knife.
“Let’s see the Boss’s experience reward.” Feng stabbed—
(End of Chapter)
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