The door creaked open, revealing the village chief's face framed in the doorway.
Seeing that both players were still alive, his expression betrayed unhidden disappointment. With a disdainful spit to the side, he beckoned curtly, "Let's go!"
The players waiting anxiously at a distance grew restless; after the harrowing screams subsided, silence resumed within the ancestral hall. After ten tense minutes, the village chief reopened the door, and Ronald supported Christine as they emerged.
"They're both alive!" Samantha exclaimed with relief.
"Thank goodness!" Jason breathed, noting it was only the second day of the dungeon. Losing two players so soon would have rendered the challenge insurmountable.
Without pause, the chief strode ahead. Eric and the others hesitated briefly, then followed alongside Ronald and Christine, relying on the chief's lantern to guide them back—navigating the courtyard in darkness would have proven difficult.
"How do you feel now? Do you remember what happened before?"
"I don't recall. What exactly occurred?" Ronald asked.
Upon learning of the day's events, Ronald expressed profound gratitude toward the others for their care. Without their watchful attention, he feared he would have perished long ago from overfull torment. A shudder passed through him at the memory.
"What of Christine? I don't know what became of her; when I regained consciousness, she appeared utterly vacant."
"She was the one who brought you inside... did she drink the Child-Giving Soup?" Anna inquired.
Ronald hesitated, uncertain. "I only noticed a shattered bowl at her feet."
"She never informed the village chief of her intent to pay tribute to the shrine. Without that, the chief would not have prepared her portion of the soup," Samantha replied icily.
Eric's mind churned further. "I wonder if she performed the rites but abstained from the soup. I fear she might suffer the same fate as Ronald."
Ronald flinched. Though his memories while out of control eluded him, he distinctly recalled how distended his belly had grown—thin as a balloon, it seemed ready to burst at any moment.
"Let's return for now," Samantha sighed.
After escorting them back to the courtyard, the village chief departed. The dim bulb in the living room cast soft, indistinct shadows over everyone's features. Following Samantha's aid in cleansing her face with well water, Christine regained composure and recounted the events within the shrine.
Although paying respects at the shrine alleviated the spirit fetuses' burden, witnessing Ronald's stomach grotesquely rupture had shaken Christine's resolve. With only two fetuses to bear, she wondered if it was better to abandon the ordeal altogether.
Eric opened her mouth to voice her suspicions, though she hesitated—such truths would undoubtedly plunge Christine back into despair. Samantha shook her head gently, signaling Eric to remain silent. Christine's fragile composure was precious; it was best not to distress her further.
The players retired to their rooms. Ronald pleaded to stay with Jason and the others, who consented.
Following their return, Christine succumbed quickly to exhaustion under overwhelming mental strain.
"Keep vigil," Samantha whispered to Eric.
Eric nodded in agreement; she shared the same resolve.
Anna offered no words, lying down silently, yet Eric sensed from her breathing that sleep eluded her.
Warm amber light from the bedside bulb suffused the room as Eric sat quietly at the bed's end, hands resting upon her belly. The quiet rumble of stomachs echoed softly; all endured gnawing hunger, with Christine's growls the loudest. Shifting uneasily, she emitted a low groan yet remained in deep, even snoring slumber.
Amid the mingling sounds of snores and gurgling guts, Eric's consciousness began to wane.
Suddenly, a tempest of violent emotions surged within her—a maelstrom of rage, despair, and ferocity, coupled with an urgent yearning for release.
This consuming inferno ignited within her dark desires to annihilate all before her.
*Thud! Thud!*
Startled awake, Eric was yet to comprehend the origin of these alien emotions when she witnessed Christine, roused and frenzied, seize the nearest Anna with vicious grip, strangling her fiercely. Legs coiling about, Christine bent low to bite mercilessly.
"Ah!" Anna's shriek pierced the air, but flames of savagery lit within her as well. Christine's attack only fueled her retaliatory fury.
The two became entwined in a savage melee, tearing and biting like wild beasts.
All unfolded with lightning speed. Though Eric recognized the aberration of their behavior, she found herself inexplicably tempted to join the fray.
Clenching her fists, muscles coiled with latent energy, her pupils narrowed sharply as a combative growl rumbled from her throat.
"Get away!" A sharp slap startled her, followed by rough hands pulling her off the bed.
The sting roused Eric, and she lunged forward with a cry.
Seeing this, Samantha released her hold, intent on withdrawing from the room spiraling into chaos.
She dashed to fetch well water, dousing the three battling women, yet the cold splash proved futile. Resigned, she retreated.
The neighboring male player's room had also descended into chaos. Samantha dared not approach, for the frenzied man was far more dangerous in his madness.
She retreated into the room Ronald had occupied the day before. It remained untouched, the air thick with the stench of decaying blood. The foul odor, instead of repelling her, awakened a violent bloodlust that seemed to surge from deep within her veins. Her face paled—Samantha swiftly backed out.
"Samantha?"
Someone called her. She turned to see Eric emerging from a room, looking somewhat relieved. "You've come to your senses? Come on—we need to split up and find hiding spots. Staying together is too risky."
Eric nodded. Inside the room, Christine and Anna were locked in a frenzied struggle. Anna, dazed, had stepped in only to be struck repeatedly. The blows snapped her back to consciousness. Her attempt to separate them had failed, so she had no choice but to flee.
Samantha found refuge in a corner of the courtyard, while Eric picked a spot of his own.
Crouching beneath the courtyard wall, Samantha struggled to suppress the bloodthirsty urge surging through her. It was stronger than anything she had experienced before—even more intense than the drug-induced mutations in the gladiatorial labs. This murderous desire rose from the depths of her soul like countless venomous vines, threatening to consume her sanity.
She wanted to bite, to lunge, to tear everything apart.
Fighting against a desire that wasn't hers, Eric dug his hands into the soil, clenching it tightly to vent his torment.
Inside the room, the battle quickly reached a conclusion.
Christine's belly had grotesquely swollen to several times its size—completely out of control. Anna, caught in a haze of pain, regained moments of lucidity but couldn't escape Christine's onslaught. She feared she would be beaten to death. After hastily applying a basic medical kit, Anna escaped into the dimly lit living room, snatched up a small stool, and smashed it against Christine's head as she pursued her.
Crack!
The blow only further inflamed Christine's bloodlust. She howled like a beast and charged.
Desperate to survive, Anna grabbed her head and kept smashing it.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The strength squeezing her waist and gnawing at her neck began to weaken. Anna glimpsed victory—and struck harder. She didn't realize her own eyes had begun to mirror Christine's—wild, feral, and utterly devoid of human clarity.
Meanwhile, in the male players' room, Kevin leapt from the window. Jason dragged Ronald out and slammed the door shut. Timothy threw himself against the door in a frenzy, then dashed to the window and rammed it too.
Neither gave way. Trapped, Timothy vented his fury in the room. After a while, clarity returned. "Is anyone still out there? Let me out—I'm fine now!" he shouted.
But the others had already retreated—no one came.
Sitting drenched in sweat on the floor, Timothy cursed, "Damn it." Being locked in wasn't the issue—but being the *only* one locked in among the male players? That stung. Ronald, the arrogant fool, should've been the worst!
The male players had retreated into the courtyard and ran into the female players.
Without a word, everyone instinctively kept their distance, wary that proximity might spark another outbreak of violence.
Each heart concealed a beast—silent in the absence of enemies, but ever ready to roar again once the moment came.
Suppressing it, enduring it, Eric's thoughts began to blur.
Then, stumbling and snarling, a figure emerged—guided by a beast's instinct. It lunged toward the nearest player with a roar.
Ronald bolted from the courtyard. The creature shifted targets, going after Kevin, who vaulted over the wall to escape.
Hearing the commotion, Eric fought through the haze and clambered over the wall as well.
The pitch-dark village path felt utterly unsafe. At night, the village resembled a graveyard—dead, silent, suffocating. After a while, Eric tripped and tumbled off the field ridge, striking his head on a rock and blacking out.
No air. He couldn't breathe.
"Cough—cough!" He awoke just before drowning in muddy water, dragging himself back to the path and collapsing flat on his back.
After some rest, he noticed something strange—the searing hunger that had gnawed at him had vanished.
Was yesterday a case of possession by a starving ghost, and today by a violent one?
Would they be possessed by different spirits in turn? If they could resist the influence of these spectral infants, could they survive the game?
That seemed to be the answer.
Though the village chief had said they needed to fulfill the infant's desires, Eric was no longer a complete novice. True, players had to follow NPC guidance to navigate a dungeon, but that didn't mean every word spoken by an NPC was gospel.
A spirit-baby in her belly demanding gluttony and slaughter? As if she'd obey!
Eric stayed where she was until dawn crept in. She didn't rush back to the courtyard—afraid that encountering other players might trigger another bloodbath, or that crossing paths with an NPC could cause her to lose control again. Better to remain isolated. She decided to head for the graveyard behind the mountain. On the way, feeling hungry, she pulled a scentless French roll from the supermarket to stave off the emptiness.
To her surprise, someone was already there. A familiar figure stood and greeted her. "Eric?"
After a pause, she replied, "Kevin. You stay here—I'll find another spot." Just seeing a living player had ignited that brutal urge once more.
Kevin said, "No problem, the place is big enough. I'll move deeper in—you stay there."
True to his word, he walked farther into the graveyard. They kept a distance of more than twenty meters, neither speaking again.
Sitting among the tombs, Eric felt no fear. Buried here were her kind—and even in death, their bones were more trustworthy than the NPCs.
With no shortage of food, Eric remained still. She heard Kevin heading out, likely in search of something to eat. All day, she survived on mineral water and a French roll. When midnight passed, the suppressed urge for violence and slaughter finally faded.
"Another day survived," she exhaled with relief.