XX

Seeing the corpse suddenly stand up, the Priests spoke in unison. "It wasn't us."

Strange.

Shino frowned, his gaze fixed on the corpse. Could it be that this Serpent's Hand member had possessed some kind of Ancient Artifact that allowed them to resurrect after death?

The corpse's dull eyes moved slowly, and it extended a stiff finger, pointing at Shino. "You... are... who?"

Its voice was hoarse and drawn out, the intonation jagged, like a rusted blade scraping against stone.

Shino stepped forward, his expression sharp. "You don't know me?"

The corpse repeated the question, as though it hadn't heard him. "You... are... who?"

"Who am I?" Shino tilted his head slightly, his tone steady. "Who are you?"

The corpse's head tilted to one side, almost unnaturally. "I... can't... tell... you... can't..."

Shino's eyes narrowed, suspicion darkening his features. The voice didn't sound like it came from the corpse itself. It was as if someone else was speaking through it.

His voice grew colder. "Hiding, are you? Why don't you come out and meet me?"

The corpse made no reply. Instead, it raised a trembling hand, pressing it firmly against its own mouth.

Moments later, its eyes slid shut, and the body crumpled back to the ground, motionless once more.

Shino crouched beside it, his expression grim. "What the hell is going on?"

...

In an apartment building, Reinhard sat cross-legged on his bed. His eyes snapped open, and he exhaled deeply. A tattered book rested on the mattress before him.

Reinhard reached for the book, his fingers brushing the faded cover. "I can use the second mouth to speak... Ahem... but my head hurts so much. I'm at my limit."

"The Man Who Lost His Eyes"

The first chapter was called My Voice, His Mouth.

Reinhard frowned. No matter how many times he read the book, he couldn't retain its story. The words dissolved from his memory the moment his eyes left the page.

It was unsettling. He'd just read a sentence, but the meaning slipped away as though it had never existed.

But after days of pouring over the strange text, Reinhard discovered something else—something far more disturbing.

A strange ability.

He could sense corpses within a certain range, using their mouths as a vessel for his voice.

And he didn't need to open his own mouth to speak.

Reinhard focused, extending his consciousness. He felt the presence of a corpse nearby and let his voice flow through it. His awareness connected with the corpse for a brief, disorienting moment.

Through the corpse's ears, he could hear faint voices. Through its body, he could feel its rigid form. But through its eyes... nothing. Only darkness.

He couldn't see a thing, though he knew the corpse had eyes.

He heard whispers around the corpse and tried to communicate. "Who is in front of me?" he asked.

The reply came instantly: "Who are you?"

Reinhard froze. He couldn't answer.

The person in front of the corpse seemed to realize someone else was controlling it. A cold voice reached him. "Hiding, are you? Why don't you come out and meet me?"

Reinhard instinctively recoiled. "No," he muttered to himself, pulling back his control.

The corpse raised its hand to cover its mouth, severing the strange connection.

"I still have to be careful," Reinhard whispered, closing the book. "What if someone can find me through the corpse? Keeping a low profile is key."

He reached for his laptop, the dim light of the screen illuminating his face. Reinhard logged into a certain game.

Recently, this game had exploded in popularity. Wealthy players were sinking fortunes into acquiring rare materials and equipment.

Reinhard sighed. To earn enough for 079's game, he avoided going out altogether, choosing instead to grind for in-game currency online.

As he logged in, the hyper-realistic graphics filled the screen. The textures and lighting were so lifelike that it felt like another world.

Reinhard navigated to a mining spot following a detailed strategy. The game's immersive gameplay, hardcore mechanics, and intricately designed character models had captivated millions.

But its meteoric rise came with questions.

No microtransactions. Completely free to play. An unknown indie developer with servers capable of handling millions of concurrent players without lag.

Where was the money coming from?

Maintaining such a vast server infrastructure was no small expense. Development costs must have been astronomical.

Yet, the game didn't earn a cent. Instead, it bled money, offering players a flawless experience at no cost.

Reinhard leaned back in his chair, watching the game world unfold. "Who would make a game like this just to lose money?"

The answer, he thought grimly, lay with whoever was funding this mysterious masterpiece.

...

Kitsune Headquarters.

A wave of movement swept across the control room as technicians stood abruptly. "We've located it!" one of them exclaimed, their voice sharp with urgency.

"The mobile data source is in Jianghan!"

Zero's piercing gaze locked onto the stream of data flickering across the central screen. His fist came down hard against the table. "Launch the operation immediately!" he barked.

His orders came in quick succession, each syllable sharp as a blade. "The objective is to isolate the data source. Remember, the target may not have a physical form—it could be nothing more than a rogue stream of data."

He pointed to a map of Jianghan glowing on the screen. "Team A, secure an offline location to trap it. Team B, lure the data stream to the designated site. Team C, prepare to sever the power and the network. Team D, stand by at the Jianghan source."

From the shadows behind Zero, a figure emerged—012, Master of Flesh. His voice was calm yet chilling, like ice cracking underfoot. "You're underestimating 020. He won't be so easy to catch. His data stream's speed far surpasses your ability to cut the power."

The former 11th seat of the Chaos Insurgency.

Number 020: Computer.

The title itself was unnerving. A name that spoke not of flesh, blood, or bone, but of circuits, code, and cold intelligence.

Zero's jaw tightened.

012 continued, his voice tinged with grim knowledge. "As his name implies, he's a computer now—fully merged with the machine. His consciousness roams freely through networks, unbound by a physical shell. Yet to say he has no form is... incorrect."

"Explain," Zero demanded, his eyes narrowing.

012 tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "While 020 has fully digitized his mind, his life form still ties back to a starting point. Theoretically, capturing him is simple. Find the computer with his original markings and cut the power. His data stream will halt instantly."

Zero's gaze flicked back to the pulsing screen. "Simple, is it? Locating the origin is nearly impossible without cutting the power to an entire district."

As if on cue, numbers scrolled chaotically across the monitors, forming an unsettling emoji that stared mockingly back at them.

Then the screen turned crimson, flashing a torrent of exclamation marks.

One of the researchers twisted in their chair, pale-faced. "Chief, the firewall's been breached! The data stream has infiltrated our database!"

Zero lunged forward, staring as more words materialized on the screen.

"You're looking for me?"

The room fell silent, the weight of the challenge hanging in the air.

Zero's voice was low, measured. "So, you want to chat... Computer?"

Another set of words appeared, almost playful in their brevity.

"Yes."

Suddenly, Zero's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, and there it was—the same mocking emoji grinning up at him from the screen.

A message followed.

"If you want to find my main body, I can tell you. You can capture my consciousness. But..."

"You'll have to promise me something."

Zero's voice was laced with suspicion as he read the next line aloud.

"Help me take care of someone."