The front door opened and shut in a flash as a figure slipped inside.
Draped in a gray cloak that covered them from head to toe, their sneaky movements screamed suspicion.
Is it Old Sven or little Jack? No, neither—the build is wrong.
As Lynch watched, the cloaked figure looked left and right. Once certain the room was empty, they pulled down their hood.
A stranger, yet vaguely familiar.
Fuck, wait—it's him.
“It's Jackson, the city lord,” Lynch whispered. Shielded by his phantasmal sound technique, he didn't fear revealing their voices. “He must be here to see his son. Looks like we were right—little Jack is with Old Sven.”
The city lord's face was a mess of tension and anticipation. Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths to calm his ragged breathing, then strode quickly through the foyer. Without so much as a glance at the stairs leading to the second floor or the cellar, he headed straight into the living room, reached into the fireplace to pull a mechanism, and twisted a wall sconce.
With a loud creaking sound, the base of the fireplace shifted aside, revealing a descending staircase.
“Tsk, a regular, huh? Even with a floor plan, I couldn't be this practiced,” Lynch muttered, curling his lip. “At least I don't have to worry about opening the door quietly. I'm going in—wait for me.”
“Cut the chatter and be careful.”
That woman Natalie is as blunt as ever, but I like it.
Lynch grinned. With a gun in one hand and his cane in the other, he trailed noiselessly behind Jackson.
The secret passage was pitch-black, though a faint light flickered at the far end. Holding a candle, the city lord descended, remembering to glance back before pulling a ring on the wall to seal the entrance. He continued downward without a trace of fear in the gloom.
Following the spiral staircase down, Lynch estimated they descended at least twenty to thirty meters before reaching the bottom. Yet before his feet even touched solid ground, an eerie low growl echoed from the depths below.
As the city lord drew closer, countless low growls erupted in unison, overlapping into a chaotic, mad roar. It sounded like man-eating beasts sighting long-awaited flesh, radiating a nearly tangible bloodlust that sent chills down the spine.
Lynch's breathing faltered slightly, but the city lord acted completely unfazed. He merely paused for a brief moment, muttered a few incomprehensible words, and casually kept walking.
From behind, Lynch whispered into the conch, “Can you understand what he said?”
Judy's voice drifted back from the conch: “'Is it worth it?'”
“Huh?”
“That's what he said.”
“Got it.”
Lynch nodded and continued following.
The area below was less of a basement and more of an underground lair. The surroundings looked strangely familiar to Lynch; on second thought, they resembled the photos taken by the female reporter Maya when she interviewed the hillmen—except those were sturdy mountain caves, while this was a crude subterranean burrow.
The tunnel, just over a man's height, wound unpredictably. Tiny oil lamps flickered in wall niches, casting feeble light across the murky passage. Whenever a roar echoed from deep inside, the resulting draft made the flames flicker, looking like tiny beacons of hope on the verge of snuffing out.
Following the city lord deep into the tunnel, Lynch passed several caves branching off to the sides. Pitch-black inside, they hid their contents from view, save for a lingering stench of rot drifting out from the darkness.
Lynch frowned and squinted, trying to get a clearer look. But just as his focus peaked, a constellation of red dots flared in the dark, followed by a deafening roar.
Holy shit, could you give me a fucking heads-up?
Being startled at his moment of peak concentration almost gave Lynch a heart attack, raising the hairs all over his body. Yet scary as the roars were, what truly made Lynch tense were those sudden red dots—clearly light reflecting off the blood-red eyes of the infected.
The red dots vanished in a flash. By a rough estimate, there were at least a dozen infected inside.
More than I expected. Are these the infected who knew how to flee?
While Lynch was contemplating this, he followed the city lord to a second cave. Staring into the identical darkness, a bad premonition seized him, prompting him to brace himself mentally. Right on cue, history repeated itself with another wave of infected growls.
More of them?
Lynch's heart sank. He realized Old Sven had quietly converted a huge batch of infected in a single day. The infected in just these two caves were enough to cause massive havoc in the city. If there were more...
Looking down the tunnel whose depth remained unknown, Lynch swallowed hard, feeling a wave of lingering dread. Thank goodness they hadn't barged in recklessly. In such a confined space, facing these fearless infected alone would be a nightmare—not to mention the two main targets had yet to appear.
Fortunately, things were slightly better than he feared. Only the first four caves were packed with infected, totaling around fifty. Lynch felt genuinely relieved that they had contained the plague's spread; these had likely been converted one by one using contaminated food. Otherwise, God knew how many infected would be hiding here. If unleashed upon the city outside, they wouldn't even need a plague canopy to destroy it within half a day.
He just wondered how all these people had gotten in. Lynch suspected there was another exit underground; otherwise, dozens of people going in and out of Dr. Sven's house would have been an absurd joke.
Just then, he heard the city lord let out a quiet sigh ahead. Lynch noticed the passage up ahead suddenly brighten as light spilled out from a cave.
The city lord quickened his pace. Before even reaching the entrance, a raspy, discontented voice rang out. Spurred by urgency, the city lord called out a reply and jogged into the cavern.
Lynch didn't dare follow rashly inside. Instead, he crouched near the entrance, peering carefully within. There was only one person inside—not a ghoul as expected, but a human-looking old man whose facial features bore a slight resemblance to Dr. Sven. This was likely her father, Old Sven, in his human form.
This cavern also closely resembled the hillmen caves from Maya's photos. Strange red diagrams were drawn across the walls, resembling both script and murals. Thin strings hung from the ceiling, supporting odd bones and wooden figures, while bottles and jars littered the floor. A sharp, foul stench permeated the entire cavern.
“Can you hear them clearly?” Lynch instinctively lowered his voice to ask. “What are they saying?”
“The city lord is blaming Sven for causing such a scene. He asked why he didn't stick to the plan of spreading the tainted flour, complaining that now who knows how many citizens will die,” Judy summarized concisely. “Though he doesn't seem to care that much. Right after, he demanded to know when Jack will be truly resurrected. They said...”
“'You said he could be resurrected, and I believed you. You said he had to be buried so crops could absorb the filth inside him, and I believed you. You said we had to experiment on those people to guarantee his resurrection, and I believed you as well. We are old friends; I have never doubted you. No matter the cost, I just want my Jack back!'”
“'Is he back now?'”
“'That isn't my Jack at all! He doesn't look alive, he remembers nothing, and he can't even speak!'”
“'Is that so? Why do you think I called you here today?'”
Old Sven flashed a strange, unsettling smile. In the next instant, Lynch felt his scalp go numb as he watched an eerie, barely human shape slowly emerge from the darkness across from the cave mouth.
Rate on N.U.
