The Creature Keeper - chapter 31

Yamada spoke in a low tone, “Is she the only one who’s turned out like this?”

“So far, only this one.”

Yamada stared at the mutated woman in the video and asked, “Where is she now?”

“She’s already been contained, locked in the underground monitoring chamber.”

Yamada remembered this woman. Not long ago, she had smiled at him through one-way glass, and even then, Yamada had felt something strange-a kind of biological instinctive wariness.

He asked again, “Are we sure these people’s DNA matches those from decades ago?”

“Confirmed. All characteristics match those victims in the gene bank.”

But the one in the footage could definitely no longer be called human.

They had lost control, and in bizarre ways, were devouring humans. The person salvaged not long ago had also attacked a nurse at the hospital, but showed no physical mutation-only biting her with his teeth.

What on earth is happening? Is it mutation?

This authoritative expert in biological virology fell into deep thought. After a moment, he ordered, “Go back and check the places where these people were found.”

The bright moon was shrouded by thick clouds, and a vigorous fog rose over the endless sea.

Someone reported to the captain and asked, “Do we need to return?”

At the same time, the detection crew said, “Radar monitoring range is shrinking, visibility keeps dropping.”

An unprecedented fog had descended upon the sea.

Yet just as they were preparing to return, they received orders from the Biological Research Base: Colonel Yamada of the Commonwealth Alliance Military instructed them to patrol and inspect the places where the Expunged Ones were discovered.

While the captain hesitated, the detection crew began to report visibility continuously.

“Warning level raised to red.”

“Fog density increasing, visibility at twenty meters.”

“Visibility ten meters.”

“Visibility five meters.”

The speed was too fast; the detector’s voice trembled.

“Visibility one meter…”

Visibility of one meter?

What does that mean?

At one meter, you can no longer see the person in front of you. Even if someone is speaking just a few steps away, you can’t make out their face. If not for familiar voices, some might even doubt who is actually talking to them.

A crew member, unable to see the deck beneath his feet, fell down the stairs. Others stood in the fog, confused and unable to tell directions. In a familiar setting, the loss of sight made it feel as strange as being lost in a maze.

Moonlight filtered through the heavy clouds, hazy and dim, as if a pair of cold eyes had opened in the sky.

The ship drifted helplessly on the surging sea, seeming so small. The world in the mist was terrifying; every slight movement or sound sent shivers of panic through the crew.

It was as if the Abyss itself was staring at them-chilling to the bone.

Some, overwhelmed by the sensation of not being able to see their own hands, slowly crouched to the ground, fearing that a single misstep would send them plunging into the pitch-black ocean.

The signal vanished. The chief officer on deck could only feel his way along the wall to the captain’s cabin and shouted inside, “The crew’s mental state seems a bit chaotic.”

Someone else said, “Radar’s out of control, we can’t return.”

“Wait… Captain, the navigation’s malfunctioning. We’re not heading back.”

“Not heading back? Then which direction are we going?”

“I don’t know.” The detector suppressed his fear. “The direction keeps shifting, and so do the coordinates-they’re constantly changing.”

Someone said, “Quiet!”

The large room fell abruptly silent.

The captain listened quietly for a moment and asked, “Do you hear singing?”
The people in the captain’s cabin looked at each other, somewhat bewildered.

Clearly, apart from the captain, no one else had heard the singing.

“Wait… singing?”

Someone suggested, “Not long ago, the dual respiratory system experimenters also claimed to have heard singing underwater.”

The mist slowly faded away, and some who had been on the verge of collapse regained their clarity, unable to understand the source of their recent emotional swings. They stood up from the deck in confusion and looked out at the sea.

Suddenly, the detector operator in the captain’s cabin said, “I hear it-there’s singing!”

The sound was gentle and ethereal, seemingly without lyrics, as if something was calling out from the void.

He opened the door and stepped outside. Someone on the deck whispered, “…What is that?”

The fog-cleared sea surface was tranquil and mysterious. Under the moonlight, a colossal, classically shaped object appeared, as if its mysterious veil had been lifted, revealing a breathtaking silhouette.

A sailor exclaimed, “It’s a ship!”

It was an extraordinarily luxurious and retro vessel, like the giant cruise ships used by nobles on transoceanic expeditions in historical records.

In the 15th century, Columbus, under orders from the Spanish rulers, set sail with numerous sailors and three ships, crossing the Atlantic and ushering in the third great wave in the history of human migration.

They marveled, admired, and discovered a new world. Amid the praise for new things, humanity began its annexation and expansion, and the world became a complete map.

Today, the discovery of the New World is celebrated as a historical anecdote, so much so that people forget the painful price it brought: many ancient civilizations were swallowed and vanished, races were exterminated and enslaved, and the people of that land were burned, killed, and plundered, their flesh and blood forming a requiem.

The evolution of civilization is a war of constant devouring.

From discovery to war.

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In the chaotic dream of the Mermaid, the world was quietly altered, and the drowsiness of the Key Keeper brought about strange effects.

After a long time, the fish tail gradually healed.

The mysterious, indescribable power was suppressed, the shattered order restored, and everything returned to calm.

In the latter half of the night, half-awake and half-asleep, Tang Rou felt something wet dripping onto her face, bringing a sharp sting.

She opened her eyes to utter darkness.

In the darkness, there seemed to be a sticky sound, and then, in the corner of her vision, a faint light appeared-yet in the next moment, the light vanished along with the squelching, writhing noise.

Tang Rou froze, her thoughts returning, her body stiff.

When her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized it was not the pitch-black night, but a massive, strangely shaped creature exuding viscous liquid.

It was so enormous that it filled Tang Rou’s entire field of vision, blocking everything else from sight.

It moved slowly, like a giant Sea Slug. But unlike that gentle mollusk, this enormous creature had a long, narrow split at its neck, inside which were rings of keratinous teeth spiraling deep, like those of a seven-gilled lamprey.

Its crimson, foul-smelling mouth was lined with sharp, terrifying teeth, slowly writhing as it devoured the Nutrient Solution dish Tang Rou had left on her desk, making bizarre noises.

Fortunately, the strange creature hadn’t noticed Tang Rou; its two antenna-like eyes stood upright atop its head, so it didn’t see her lying on the sofa.

Tang Rou stiffly turned her neck and found that the Office door had somehow opened… no, it had melted.

The metal door had melted like asphalt, dripping stickily onto the floor.

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