Look, Seojun wasn't going to stand here and pretend he was some kind of hero ready to throw himself into danger for a bunch of strangers. He had his own skin to worry about, and frankly, Johan’s plan to just brute-force the front entrance open was incredibly tempting.
"I exist... to help you—"
Casimir's hands moved before the creature could finish, wrenching its jaw from its skull. Yet even as the mandible hung loose, the voice persisted.
The keycard reeked. So bad, in fact, that Seojun found himself hesitating to touch it even through his gloves. But he really didn't have much of a choice here. He gingerly pinched one corner between his thumb and forefinger, sliding it into the reader by the door to the third-floor stairwell.
Callister, who had been quietly listening, suddenly spoke up.
"I can handle it!"
"Handle what?" I asked, my brow furrowing.
He gestured toward the piles of holy flesh. "These things are still mindless because they don't have memories of consuming anyone living yet. They haven't gained self-awareness.
The plan, if you could even call it that, was laughably simple.
Step one: Drag Pete into a room.
Step two: Slam the door shut.
Step three: Barricade with the sofa.
So they're all just running on instinct now?
How many people received Colomba's healing blessing?
And what happens when the maggots start feeding on people who can't move? Can't resist? Can't even open their mouths to scream?
Oh, this is bad. This is so much worse than I thought.
Pete moved like nothing human. He scuttled forward on all fours with a chilling, insectile grace that was extremely menacing! Somehow, this was worse than the earlier shambling—the awkward, top-heavy teetering on mismatched limbs.
Seojun let out a heavy sigh as the weight of their predicament settled over him.
Now what do I do?
Admittedly, Samantha probably wasn't in the best condition after going down to the basement. Though calling it "going down" was generous. She'd essentially plummeted straight down the elevator shaft.
Except for my Callister, every Holy Flesh Container unit is connected to the others.
Calling it a “connection,” though, doesn’t really do it justice. It’s less like a connection and more like a single living organism, split across thousands of bodies.
…What does that smile mean?
I almost asked. Almost. But I didn’t. Because if he said something like, “Oh, this is your third life, by the way”—yeah, no. I genuinely didn’t think I could survive hearing it.