Chapter 58

Morrison pressed his forehead against the frozen ground amid the overwhelming pain. 

Thump, thump. 

He vividly felt the positions of organs and blood vessels he hadn’t known existed. As if someone had ignited a fire inside his internal organs, hot steam surged through every vein.

“K-kuh, kuaak.”

The swollen blood vessels swelled, covering Morrison’s face in an instant.

“K-kuh, kkyuk. Ha-yuk.”

Overwhelmed by the pain, Morrison’s body rolled ruthlessly on the harsh ground. Would it be better if he stopped breathing? Extreme thoughts that wouldn’t have crossed his mind under normal circumstances dominated as pain paralyzed his reason.

“Hu, huu.”

How long did he writhe in pain? 

Covered in dirt from head to toe, Morrison slumped numbly. As he exhaled deeply, a white breath escaped his lips. The pain disappeared without a trace, as if it had never come, leaving no sign.

Morrison, staring blankly at the darkening sky, clutched his lower abdomen.

“I’m… progressing.”

Despite never experiencing pancreatic cancer after administering both the zombie virus and the modified enhanced human virus, Morrison’s lips trembled at the sudden deterioration of his health.

‘How did I get here? Why all of a sudden…’

Unable to comprehend his condition, Morrison’s face turned paler as he groped his stomach.

“Blood… not enough…”

Trembling lips and a sniffling nose sought blood. It felt as if insects were still crawling inside his body.

“Huuk, huuk.”

Morrison, rising from the ground with a deep breath, wiped his forehead. 

He pondered why pancreatic cancer had progressed. Why did his health suddenly deteriorate? 

Despite needing to focus on the reasons, his body, paralyzed with irrationality, craved human blood and flesh without restraint.

Morrison pounded his head with his fist. Even as he contemplated the progression of the disease, the desire for flesh interrupted the flow. He needed to identify the cause first.

The rationality urging him to replenish energy and understand the situation clashed with his already difficult-to-maintain sanity. Morrison treated his malfunctioning head like a broken machine, hitting his forehead.

“No way.”

As he resumed his interrupted thoughts, one possibility emerged.

“Dragon…”

Was it because of that dragon? Morrison recalled the dragon he had subdued through sheer force, injecting blood directly unlike the others. 

Taming was challenging, but even after taming, he couldn’t erase the feeling of a connection.

A vivid sensation, as if becoming another self. The dragon, which had behaved as if sharing one mind with him, came to mind.

He found it strange but didn’t consider it significant. Perhaps it was just part of the process of creating zombies. It must be because they were creatures of this world. 

That’s how he perceived it. 

However, in Morrison’s shocked eyes, a hazy realization flickered.

“But… if that were the case, it should have severed immediately after death. Why…”

The hypothesis that his condition changed after the dragon’s death was just that, a hypothesis, but no other reasons came to mind. A strange sense of loss, as if something essential to his body had disappeared, pervaded him.

‘Yes… infecting the dragon must have shifted some power.’

Trembling, Morrison gave weight to his hypothesis. His hands shook as he emphasized the conclusion.

‘I shouldn’t recklessly turn others into zombies in the future.’

Morrison, who appeared to have stopped experiments to infect humans with the zombie virus, tightly sealed his lips. His face, with the contours of muscles sharply defined on dry cheeks, seemed unattractively shrunken.

After contemplating for a while, Morrison got up. The disheveled Morrison looked like a frail patient. Moving around with his pitiful body, Morrison wrapped his arms around himself.

‘If pancreatic cancer progresses further from here…’

At the thought of the impending conclusion, Morrison’s body trembled.

‘If I succumb to pancreatic cancer, my body…’

Unable to entertain rational thoughts any longer, Morrison, having possibly forgotten who he was, could become a mindless zombie just biting and tearing into flesh. That wasn’t what Morrison desired.

If it came to that, there would be no reason to endure life in such agony. Morrison’s bony, determined hand explored his body.

“No, it can’t be. I can’t become a zombie.”

Surviving by betraying friends and wandering through the forest without a trace of rationality wasn’t the way Morrison had endured all this time. He struggled to think logically, trying to erase the impending disastrous outcome.

“Why did that woman follow me all the way here?”

It was all because of Gia. As Morrison thought of her, his teeth, which had turned into those of a human upon death, gritted with a grinding sound.

“I must kill her. Resentful wishes to tear Gia apart for tormenting me even beyond death ignited fiercely.”

Regardless of how she followed, Gia had adapted to this world. Morrison’s face contorted grotesquely.

“I have to kill her.”

The vengeful feeling toward Gia boiled like lava from beneath.

“Sickening bitch.”

Morrison’s back, cursing while clutching his hungry stomach, bent over. Faintly, there was a smell of blood. 

Relentlessly, Morrison, as if his sense of smell had become more sensitive, followed that scent, driven by an insatiable hunger.

Emerging from the agony, Morrison wasn’t sure how far he had come, but he flared his nostrils, surrendering his body to instinct. The footsteps of the limping Morrison accelerated.

“Hu, huh.”

The body, once strengthened by the zombie virus, didn’t walk like it used to. Bare, bony legs barely supported him. Quickly, he needed to replenish blood and flesh. Otherwise, his condition would worsen.

Like a shark in the boundless ocean, he became a predator sensing prey with just a drop of blood. Morrison moved his body instinctively. Clinging to the fading rationality, Morrison muttered grimly.

“Don’t turn into a zombie.”

If he didn’t say it aloud and engrave it in his mind, he would be no different from a beast blindly chasing prey.

“Or control the monsters.”

He remembered controlling grotesque creatures when he first came to this world. Until he knew why he lost his strength and became weak, it seemed unwise to use power recklessly.

Morrison, stumbling, suddenly came to a halt.

‘If I lose again like this, what will I do?’

Morrison, predicting that if he turned something into a zombie, another disaster like this would occur, appealed to the instinct taking root in his mind that it was unacceptable.

Picking up a sharp, sturdy branch from the ground, Morrison rolled up his tattered sleeve.

Rip.

As he scratched the bare flesh, the winter branch left letters on it.

[Zombiefication Connection X]

It was a simple inscription, but only the essential parts were etched, and blue blood flowed from the marked arm. The blood that fell on the snow seemed to glow like fluorescent material.

“Damn it.”

The skin healed instantly without any sense of accomplishment. Morrison, who had sharpened his teeth, eyed the blood that had fallen on the ground.

Using his finger, he poked it and, just like before, inscribed the writing in the same spot. The blood, like ink, strangely did not erase and maintained its form.

“That’s it.”

He inscribed a warning in places visible on his arm—inside the arm, on the forearm, and on the back of the hand.

This should be fine. The fraying edge of his barely held rationality was slipping away.

“Hu, ugh.”

He reminded himself not to move the strange creatures on this mountain with his power. Also, not to recklessly consume flesh driven by instinct. Once again, he organized forbidden actions in his mind.

“Kuh, ugh.”

The lingering smell of blood was paralyzing his rationality. Morrison, driven by the scent of blood while flaring his nostrils, turned his head like a beast that had spotted prey.

‘Surely it should be around here.’

Morrison’s face stiffened horribly when he couldn’t see what should be there. Sniffing, Morrison, who had flattened himself on the ground as if he would stick his nose into it, crawled with four legs, chasing the scent.

“Where… huk.”

The approaching thirst left Morrison’s mouth parched as if it had been in a drought. He urgently needed to drink blood. Morrison’s body, moving like a four-legged beast, suddenly stopped.

Crack.

With the sound of bones twisting, Morrison’s neck turned towards the target. Swiftly, like a person who had originally walked on four legs, he moved.

“Found it.”

Bloodstains on the rock. Confirming it, Morrison’s cloudy eyes widened.

His protruding red tongue disgustingly licked the rock. Having recently spilled blood, Morrison let it flow through his throat, rolling his eyeballs.

“Where is it?”

Morrison, who had been licking the rock clean, turned his body and followed the trail where blood droplets had fallen. Flat on the ground, as if he would eat the dirt, Morrison followed the fallen blood down the mountain.

Sniffing, as he descended, a pool of blood on the muddy ground came into view. Morrison, who had been eating the dirt as if he had lost his sanity, stood up straight.

More, more.

The cells in his body shouted that it wasn’t enough.

Sniff.

Driven by the pungent smell of blood hanging in the air, his body moved on its own.

The scent of the prey was fading as if it had run fast.

“No, no. It’s mine!”

Morrison cried like a child whose candy had been taken away, but his appearance was reminiscent of a demon emerging from hell.

Struggling, chasing the scent of blood, Morrison was getting farther away from the summit.

* * *

[Descent]

Gazing at the rising sun, piercing through the horizon, Gia’s eyes teared up, either from the intense sunlight or physiological tears. 

Once again, today the sun rose, and darkness fell. Gia looked around with eyes soaked in sentiment. Still, some members were sound asleep.

When they first arrived, there were at least twenty. Seeing the remaining members, less than half that number, Gia’s mouth downturned.

In place of the members who hadn’t slept yet, Gia stood to take last night’s watch and wiped her forehead.

‘But Morrison… What happened to him?’

Morrison suddenly screamed in pain and ran away as if fleeing from the cave. 

Where did he go, and why did he disappear like that? No matter how much she thought, no answer came to mind. No hypothesis seemed conclusive.

In frustration, Gia ruffled her hair, grabbing the shortened ends.

The memory of Kalion, who used to caress her hair before bed, came to mind. 

Why was she thinking of that now? Her face turned redder than the sun that appeared suddenly. In response to the intrusive thought, Gia quickly slapped her forehead.

“No matter how bad I am at reasoning, this is too much…”