Chapter 524 - 3: Waking Up
Uncle Scar exerted a bit of pressure, trying to push the tip of the needle into the boy’s skin.
But the slight resistance he expected from a needle breaking the skin never came.
The sharp metal tip, just like every blade before it, passed straight through without obstruction, as if piercing nothing but empty air.
Uncle Scar frowned and applied more force, driving the needle forward.
The needle passed effortlessly through the boy’s neck and emerged from the other side, but the force of the thrust caused the syringe’s plunger to slide back a little on its own.
HISS!
A viscous, dark purple fluid shot from the tip of the needle. It passed directly through the "phantom" of the boy’s neck and splattered onto the filthy stone slab below, letting out a faint sizzle. It was quickly absorbed by the rough stone surface, leaving behind only a small, dark, wet stain.
"Uncle Scar!" The young man, who had a clear view from the side, couldn’t help but whisper a warning. "The liquid... it’s leaking! It all spilled onto the slab!"
"Damn it! I can see that!" Uncle Scar yanked the syringe back, his face twitching as he cursed under his breath. "This damn thing’s Nightmare Transformation is too advanced! Even my needle, coated in a diluted solution of the Anchor of Truth, can’t get in! This is just like pouring money straight down the drain!"
He irritably tossed the syringe aside, his heart aching as he watched the small, expensive puddle rapidly evaporate from the stone slab.
The young man also leaned in, carefully studying the boy who remained motionless on the slab.
His gaze swept over the boy’s spotless black robes, then down at the filth and bloodstains covering himself and Uncle Scar, and at the pervasive grime of the room. A detail he’d previously overlooked suddenly sprang to mind.
"Uncle Scar..." the young man began hesitantly, a barely perceptible tremor in his voice. "Did... did you notice? This guy... he’s... too clean."
"Clean?" Uncle Scar, still agitated, shot him an impatient glance.
"Yeah, spotless." The young man pointed at the boy. "Look, we dragged him all the way from that filthy sewer. How much muck did we smear on him? And look how disgusting this room is. But on him—his clothes, his hair... there isn’t a single speck of dust, not one drop of water! It’s like... like he was just pulled out of the cleanest wardrobe!"
A jolt went through Uncle Scar. His eyes flew wide open.
He stared intently at the boy on the slab as the previous moments flashed through his mind.
The unnatural lightness when they dragged him, the blades passing through without resistance, the needle failing to pierce his skin... and this bizarre cleanliness, so completely at odds with his surroundings.
A chill, mingled with an even more intense greed, instantly crawled up his spine.
"Damn Nightmare. We’ve already been affected..." Uncle Scar hissed through clenched teeth. "This isn’t a normal Nightmare Transformation... This damn thing is becoming a pure ’creature of dream’! Physical attacks are completely useless. Even a specialized Alchemy Potion can’t make contact with its body..."
He panted, his chest rising and falling, but his gaze was fixed on the boy like a hook, flames of greed leaping wildly in his eyes.
"But..." Uncle Scar licked his dry lips, his voice growing hoarse. "A Nightmare Transformation this advanced, this pure... it’s a hell of a hassle to deal with, but... it’s also a goddamn treasure! The big shots would pay a fortune for Nightmare material this close to perfect! It’s worth a hundred times more than any thigh bone or hamstring!"
Immense risk and immense temptation waged war in his heart.
In the end, greed and the short-timer’s mentality—forged by a lifetime of living on a knife’s edge—won out.
He spun around and spoke urgently to the young man. "Listen, kid! This thing is too freaky. The junk we have on hand is useless against it. But we can’t just leave it here, either. What if something goes wrong, or someone else finds it... Look, you stay here and watch it. Don’t take your eyes off it for a second! I’m heading to the market to find some serious hardware that can deal with a high-level Nightmare Body like this, or maybe I’ll just contact a buyer who knows what they’re looking at!"
The young man’s face showed a flicker of fear at the thought of watching this eerie thing alone. But seeing the undeniable ferocity in Uncle Scar’s eyes, and the promise of a massive payoff, he nodded. "O-Okay, Uncle Scar. Just... hurry back."
"Don’t worry, I’m in a bigger hurry than you are!" Uncle Scar clapped the young man’s shoulder, then shot one last, vicious glare at the silent boy on the slab, as if to pin him there with his gaze. He then turned quickly, shoved open the heavy iron door, and his figure vanished into the darkness of the outside corridor as his footsteps faded into the distance.
CLANG!
Uncle Scar pulled the iron door shut from the outside. The sound of the lock clicking into place was jarringly loud in the silent room.
The room now held only the young man and the eerie, seemingly sleeping Nightmare Body on the stone slab.
The dim oil lamp cast the young man’s long, flickering shadow across the stained walls.
The air was a sickening mix of blood, chemicals, and the strange, lingering odor of the dark purple fluid.
The young man stood still for a moment, the silence of the room so profound that even his own breathing sounded jarringly loud.
He didn’t dare get too close to the slab. He subconsciously paced around the room for a few steps before ending up at the broken table in the corner. He picked up a few small, greasy metal parts of indeterminate purpose and began to fiddle with them absently, trying to distract himself from the creeping chill and the dark thoughts breeding in his mind.