Chapter 121: Dead
After the council meeting concluded, the enormous bronze doors slowly closed behind the departing elders, and the oppressive atmosphere that had filled the chamber finally dispersed. One by one, the military commanders, intelligence officers, researchers, and council members returned to their respective responsibilities. Within only a few minutes, the once-crowded hall had become almost completely empty, leaving only the parents of the twins standing quietly beneath the dim crimson lights illuminating the ancient chamber.
Neither of them spoke immediately.
The silence between them lasted long enough for the echoes of the departing footsteps to completely disappear.
Finally, the father released a long, tired sigh before rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"...That did not go as I expected."
His wife slowly folded her arms before leaning lightly against the edge of the massive stone table.
"It didn’t."
Her expression had already lost the calm composure she maintained before the council.
Instead...
A trace of annoyance slowly appeared.
"They’re already thinking about him."
The father gave a small nod.
"They’re not merely thinking about him."
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"They’re calculating."
The mother quietly understood what he meant.
The Corrode Family had survived for generations because every important decision was measured through value and benefit.
Personal affection rarely determined the family’s direction.
Potential did.
Strength did.
Future value did.
Clayne had displayed all three.
Which meant...
The elders would inevitably begin making their own plans.
The mother slowly exhaled.
"They’ll probably investigate us as well."
The father gave a bitter smile.
"They already have."
He walked toward one of the enormous windows overlooking the underground city hidden beneath the estate.
"They simply won’t do it openly."
"They’ll smile while asking harmless questions."
"They’ll casually request old records."
"They’ll send trusted people to speak with us."
"They’ll observe every reaction."
"They’ll compare every statement."
"They’ll slowly determine whether we’re still useful..."
"...or whether we’re hiding something."
The mother quietly nodded.
"That’s how this family has always operated."
Neither of them sounded surprised.
They had lived inside the Corrode Family long enough to understand its methods.
Open conflict rarely occurred among the highest members.
Instead...
Information.
Influence.
Carefully arranged accidents.
Subtle manipulation.
Invisible pressure.
Those had always been the family’s preferred weapons.
The mother looked toward the now-dark display where Clayne’s image had disappeared.
"They’ll probably try to approach him."
The father remained silent.
"They’ll promise him protection."
"They’ll promise him resources."
"They’ll promise him a place within the family again."
"They may even blame us."
His expression remained unusually calm despite those possibilities.
"If that fails..."
He slowly looked downward.
"...they’ll begin searching for the source of his strength."
"And if they discover anything related to the parasite..."
The sentence remained unfinished.
The mother completed it quietly.
"They’ll eventually realize that keeping Clayne alive benefits Clay."
The father nodded once.
"Exactly."
For several moments, neither spoke.
The mother eventually smiled faintly.
"Fortunately..."
"They don’t know everything."
The father also smiled.
"No."
"They know the parasite exists."
"They know it transfers biological essence."
"They know Clay continues receiving benefits."
He paused.
"What they don’t know..."
"...is the true nature of the parasite."
The mother slowly straightened.
"The traceless parasite was never an ordinary biological organism."
She spoke almost like a researcher reciting a completed experiment.
"It was designed from the beginning to become inseparable from its host."
"It doesn’t merely attach itself to flesh."
"It intertwines with vitality."
"It anchors itself to the host’s life force."
"It gradually synchronizes with every layer of biological activity until removing it becomes almost indistinguishable from removing part of the host himself."
The father quietly continued.
"If someone forcefully extracts it..."
"...the parasite doesn’t simply die."
"The host suffers catastrophic damage."
"The life force binding both together collapses."
"The parasite itself may perish..."
"...but so may its host."
The mother slowly nodded.
"Even Parahumans far stronger than Clayne shouldn’t be capable of safely separating it."
She lowered her eyes thoughtfully.
"Unless he somehow discovers a method completely beyond our understanding..."
"...the transfer will continue."
The father looked toward the ceiling as though imagining the forgotten twin getting stronger somewhere beyond the countless kilometers separating them.
"The stronger he becomes..."
"...the richer the bloodline carried by each transfer."
"The more refined his biological evolution..."
"...the greater the nourishment reaching Clay."
A quiet satisfaction gradually appeared across his face.
"I never imagined the abandoned child would awaken his parasite so dramatically during the apocalypse."
The mother calmly replied,
"Neither did I."
She showed no hatred toward Clayne.
Nor particular affection.
Only detached acceptance.
"It changes nothing."
"The traceless parasite doesn’t care whether he becomes weak..."
"...or unimaginably powerful."
"As long as it remains hidden..."
"...it will continue carrying portions of everything he gains."
The father slowly nodded.
"Our son..."
He smiled faintly.
"...will continue receiving those benefits."
The room once again fell silent.
Then...
Without warning...
A sharp electronic tone echoed through the chamber.
Both of them immediately turned toward the source of the unexpected sound.
The sharp electronic tone had barely faded when the massive doors leading into the private chamber were violently pushed open.
A middle-aged butler stumbled inside without waiting for permission, something he would never have dared to do under ordinary circumstances. His usually composed appearance had completely disappeared. His breathing was ragged, his immaculate uniform had become slightly disheveled, and his face had turned frighteningly pale.
He immediately dropped to one knee.
"Master! Madam!"
His voice trembled so violently that he nearly failed to finish his sentence.
"Young Master Clay... something is happening to him!"
The father instantly straightened.
"What happened?"
The butler swallowed hard before forcing himself to continue.
"I... I don’t know. It happened without warning. Young Master suddenly collapsed during his physical synchronization exercises. The physicians are already there, but... but none of them understand what is happening!"
The mother had already begun walking toward the exit before the butler even finished speaking.
"Take us there."
"Immediately."
The butler hurriedly rose to his feet.
"This way!"
The three of them rushed through the enormous underground corridors while guards stepped aside upon seeing the anxious expressions of the household heads. Servants who had never witnessed the couple lose their composure instinctively lowered their heads as they hurried past.
Neither parent spoke.
Both silently prayed that the report had exaggerated the situation.
Yet...
The closer they came to Clay’s private residence...
The louder the commotion became.
Doctors shouted instructions.
Researchers hurried between laboratories carrying medical equipment.
Emergency alarms continuously echoed throughout the underground complex.
By the time the couple reached the sealed medical chamber, nearly twenty physicians and biological researchers had already gathered outside.
The heavy security doors slid open.
The parents immediately entered.
Their expressions changed at once.
Clay lay on the reinforced medical platform in the center of the room.
His body had completely lost its previous composure.
Every muscle violently contracted before relaxing again in rapid succession. His entire body trembled uncontrollably as though invisible currents were tearing through every nerve. Moments later, another violent convulsion arched his back from the operating table before he collapsed again, only for another wave to begin seconds later.
"Argh...!"
A pained groan escaped his lips.
His breathing became increasingly ragged.
His fingers clawed desperately against the reinforced metal beneath him, leaving deep scratches despite the extraordinary strength of the alloy.
The mother rushed forward.
"Clay!"
She attempted to hold his shoulders steady.
Another convulsion immediately surged through his body with such force that even she struggled to restrain him.
The father looked toward the surrounding physicians.
"What happened?"
One elderly researcher shook his head helplessly.
"We don’t know."
Another physician hurriedly checked several rapidly changing readings displayed above the bed.
"His biological synchronization suddenly became unstable."
"It happened almost instantly."
"There was no warning."
Another violent tremor spread through Clay’s body.
His breathing became harsher.
Veins bulged beneath his skin before gradually darkening.
The mother instinctively took a step backward.
"...His skin..."
Everyone looked.
Clay’s complexion was changing.
The healthy color that had always characterized him slowly faded.
In its place...
An unnatural grayish tone gradually spread across his arms before creeping toward his neck.
Another convulsion shook his body.
The discoloration deepened.
His fingernails slowly darkened.
The physicians immediately increased their efforts.
"Stabilize his pulse!"
"Increase the suppressant dosage!"
"Monitor the parasite!"
"No response!"
"The synchronization keeps falling!"
The room descended into controlled chaos.
The father slowly clenched both fists.
"This shouldn’t be possible..."
A senior researcher hurriedly examined Clay’s pupils before suddenly freezing.
His expression immediately changed.
"...No..."
The mother looked toward him.
"What is it?"
The researcher hesitated.
Then answered quietly.
"There is..."
He swallowed.
"...another symptom."
Everyone instinctively noticed it at almost the same time.
A strange odor had begun filling the medical chamber.
At first...
It was faint.
Almost unnoticeable.
Within moments...
The smell became increasingly unpleasant.
It resembled decaying flesh mixed with stagnant blood, carrying a nauseating scent that none of the expensive purification systems seemed capable of removing.
Several younger physicians instinctively covered their noses.
One researcher looked horrified.
"...Impossible."
The father’s heart suddenly sank.
The mother slowly backed away from the bed.
"No..."
She whispered.
"...That smell..."
The elderly chief physician stared at the rapidly changing biological readings before looking toward Clay’s increasingly gray skin.
His lips trembled.
He had seen similar symptoms only once before.
Outside the family estate.
During the earliest documented cases of infection.
He slowly raised his head toward the parents.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither wanted to say the terrifying thought now filling their minds.
Yet...
Both were thinking exactly the same thing.
Could their son...
...be turning into one of the undead?