"Hey, what the hell is this? You don't have so weird disease, do you?" The scar-faced man's loud voice rang almost simultaneously with the school-uniford girl's exclamation.
The school-uniford girl turned to look, only to see that the woman had been kicked aside. She hurriedly grabbed so clothes to cover herself, glancing at her body suspiciously.
At that mont, small pimples had appeared all over her neck, arms, and legs, filled with a yellowish fluid. Whether it was an illusion, the school-uniford girl felt the yellow fluid inside was... alive. It reminded her of translucent eggs being carried away by the rain.
The thought sent a shiver down her spine, her face turning pale.
"No way... Why is this happening? What is this? It's so itchy!" The woman scratched at the pimples on her neck, but they spread fast—so had already appeared on her face.
"Boss, I think you have them too." One of the scar-faced man's subordinates hesitated before adding, "Actually, I think we all do..."
The scar-faced man finally noticed the strange bumps forming on his body.
Clusters of them swelled grotesquely in patches, thick and raised. At first, they hadn't felt anything, but now that they were aware of them, an unbearable itch spread across their skin. The mont they scratched, the yellow fluid burst out, releasing a foul stench filling the room like a swamp full of rotting corpses.
"What the hell is this? It's itchy, and it stinks! That damn rain—there was sothing wrong with it! It has to be acid or sothing!" The short esper shouted angrily.
At that mont, the door suddenly rattled, drawing everyone's attention.
"Who's there?!" the scar-faced man bellowed, his fist swelling, ready to strike any mont.
"It's us... We're back. There was nothing outside, so we returned..."
It was the two n who had been sent out to scout.
Everyone recognized their voices, but for so reason, they sounded strange—like they were speaking with mouths full of bubbles, their words garbled and unclear.
"Maybe... it's not dangerous at night," the short esper muttered. However, before he could finish his sentence, he suddenly fell silent, his eyes widening in disbelief as he stared at the doorway.
The two n had returned... but they were no longer the sa.
Their skin was now covered in a slimy, green mucus that dripped onto the floor. Webbing had ford between their fingers, and their arms and hands had elongated unnaturally. But the most horrifying change was their heads.
Their heads had swollen, their eyes bulging grotesquely from their sockets. When they opened their mouths, they had beco elongated, revealing tongues so long they reached down to their chests. The strange transformation explained why their voices had sounded so bizarre. Along with their arrival ca an overwhelming, nauseating stench.
Sensing the others' horrified gazes, the two n hesitated. "What's wrong? Why are you all looking at us like that?"
They turned to each other—then scread in unison.
"MONSTERS!"
"What the hell happened to us?! No! What's going on?! I want out—I don't want to turn into a monster! NO! NO!"
Panicked, they frantically touched their faces. The feeling of their slimy skin and distorted features only deepened their horror and despair.
"This is all your fault! If you hadn't forced us outside, this wouldn't have happened to us!" Suddenly, they lunged at the scar-faced man.
But he was ready. His punch sent them flying, slamming them hard against the wall.
However, an attack that should have been fatal to an ordinary person had no effect.
The two n slowly picked themselves up from the ground. Their broken necks twisted grotesquely, their heads flipping backward. Their bulging eyes protruded even more as if they were about to pop out.
Even though their limbs were visibly broken, they still lunged at the scar-faced man—faster than before.
The scar-faced man's expression turned cold as he sent them flying again. Then, with a powerful leap, he stomped down hard, crushing both of their heads. Brain matter splattered everywhere, yet—there was no fresh blood.
The corpses of the two n gradually turned limp, their bodies collapsing into boneless, shapeless masses. All that remained was a pool of thick, green sli clinging to the remnants of their skin. Their distorted faces, frozen in a grotesque stare, still seed to be "looking" at everyone in the room.
"Urgh—ugh!" The school-uniford girl retched uncontrollably, tears and snot streaming down her face, her expression filled with utter despair and horror.
"They... they turned into monsters..." the remaining woman muttered, imagining herself suffering the sa horrifying fate.
She couldn't stop scratching her neck. Yellowish mucus oozed from the wounds, mixed with blood, yet the disgusting sll wasn't enough to bring her back to her senses.
Itchy. Itchy. Itchy!
The scar-faced man lifted his foot from the puddle of sli. The sticky substance clung to his shoes as if trying to pull him back in.
His face twisted with revulsion and fury. With a roar, he snapped, "This goddamn Dungeon—we're killing the boss tomorrow! I'm not staying in this shithole a second longer!"
His two subordinates shouted in agreent, furiously scratching at their skin. Even the school-uniford girl couldn't help but look at them with desperate hope.
No matter how much she despised these black espers, they were still the only hope she had left.
She just prayed that before they escaped the Dungeon, they wouldn't kill her first. She wanted to live. She was still young—too young to die!
—
[They're dood. No hope at all. Still, that was entertaining to watch—at least they served so purpose, haha.]
[Does that guy think he can kill the boss? He doesn't even know who the boss is! Hahaha, should I feel sorry for his stupidity?]
[They won't survive past tomorrow night, that's for sure. Just fast-forward and let the next batch in already—watching brainless idiots flail around is exhausting.]
[Prophet still hasn't appeared, huh? I thought he was supposed to be a god that supports humanity...]
[What are you thinking? Prophet has taste, you know. At the very least, he despises everything—especially fools and weaklings.]
[I agree. Prophet is picky. He wouldn't even acknowledge Drake when Drake pissed him off.]
Silvanus: "..." It seems like Prophet's reputation is taking an unexpected turn...
In truth, he did want to save humanity—or, more accurately, close the Dungeon. Its very existence interfered with his stage.
No matter how much information he gathered, the mont the Dungeon reopened, he would have to step inside again.
As expected, none of the first batch of humans would survive past the second night...
And yet, the villagers welcod them warmly, as if nothing was amiss.
The group ate and drank without concern, their faces showing no sign of fear. They seed to think the food tasted strangely delicious.
A spirit-focused esper eventually concluded that all of them had been contaminated, their minds corrupted by the Dungeon.
That night, chaos erupted.
The woman suddenly went mad, dashing out into the pouring rain.
A monstrous frog burst from the short esper's gut, tearing him open before attacking the others, crumbling the entire house.
More figures erged in the rain, all lost, with nowhere to hide.
The other village houses were eerily sturdy—so much so that no espers could force them open.
They knew too little. They had too little information.
They had no idea what to do in the face of such despair.
One by one, the humans lost themselves, their minds eroded, their bodies transforming into mindless monsters, vanishing into the cold darkness of the night.
—
[Dungeon: "Frog"—Humanity has failed. Countdown to next dungeon opening: 00:59:04]
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