Chapter 58: Conflict upon Conflict
Screams echoed through the facility as the sterile halls suddenly erupted in chaos. A group of heavily armed security personnel came sprinting down the corridor, panic written all over their faces. Some clutched their stomachs, others were vomiting streams of blood, their eyes bloodshot and bulging as they collapsed to the floor, twitching in agony.
"D-Damon... what’s happening?" Phoebe gasped, watching the soldiers fall like dominoes.
Damon’s brows furrowed. He looked around—he hadn’t triggered anything. His hallucination range couldn’t stretch outside the experiment chambers, let alone to the security levels. This wasn’t his doing. And yet... the signs were unmistakable.
Blackened veins. Internal bleeding. Fevered eyes.
The same symptoms of exposure to his blood’s effect—the death-triggering plague that had once consumed others who made contact with him.
Suddenly, one of the surviving guards saw Damon and let out a scream:
"OH NO—IT’S THE REAL DAMON! W-WE’RE TRAPPED!"
"IT’S—HE’S HERE—NO, NO, THIS CAN’T BE—"
The man was hysterical, stumbling back, slamming against the wall as if Damon was a walking death sentence.
Then... everything went still.
A low growl. The sound of flesh dragging across tile.
From around the corridor’s edge, a figure emerged—half-covered in shadows, dragging one foot like a broken beast. Its body dripped with blood, the floor melting slightly wherever droplets fell. Its hand was torn open, leaving a trail of infection, like a walking plague.