Horror Game Designer

Chapter 62: The hero with only three days left to live

In the realm known as the shadow world, every creature that emerges from the darkness is allocated a specific role, akin to characters in a preordained script. These beings exist to support the shadows’ mission to infiltrate and influence the tangible world. However, when these creatures begin to think independently and deviate from their destined narratives, the shadow world exerts immense efforts to pull them back into its dark embrace.

Two individuals, Xuan Wen and Gao Ming, share a common struggle against this predestination. Since their awakening, they’ve been locked in an unending conflict with their fates.

Xuan Wen harbored a deep-seated desire to escape the confines of the shadow world. She held a firm belief that her destiny was not fixed and could be altered.

Viewed merely as a trivial character and an underappreciated supporting figure, Xuan Wen was neither blessed with striking beauty nor a charming personality. Yet, influenced either by Gao Ming’s actions or her own internal resolve, she daringly chose a path fraught with danger and madness. She brazenly seized the powers and destinies meant for eight primary female characters, causing eight irreparable rifts in the process.

Despite her efforts, Xuan Wen found herself powerless against the will of the Flesh Immortal and the spiteful spirit of Situ An. Desperate to create time for Gao Ming, she had no choice but to harness the shadow world’s enigmatic powers.

“Merging with the Heart of Deity is a process. Even if I obtain the heart, you won’t be able to fend them off for me. So, it’s best if I restrain them while you undergo the merging,” Xuan Wen proposed logically, her emotions sidelined in favor of taking actions that might shift their fate towards a more favorable direction.

The shadows swirled around the underground area, akin to an encroaching night as Xuan Wen herself began to transform, becoming a rift bridging both worlds. This allowed fragmented apparitions to surge forth, enveloping Situ An and the statue.

Meanwhile, Gao Ming finally reached the Heart of Deity. As he touched it, the once colorless heart began to display his past memories in vivid detail.

He saw visions of dark nights, crimson blood, torn azure skies, upturned grey cityscapes, and a singular beam of light from a distant car. In these memories, Gao Ming himself was both inside and outside of the car.

The heart, surrounded by eight arms, seemed to be observing Gao Ming in his trance. Suddenly, the pulsations of the Heart of Deity began to synchronize with the Heart of Mortality within Gao Ming’s chest.

Seeing this, Elder Wu Bo cried out in alarm as the heart above the statue disappeared following the merging of Gao Ming’s past experiences. His will, spirit, and memories infused every drop of his blood.

All humans possessed two hearts in nature: the physical heart, which is the source of strength and vitality, and the heart of the soul, which acts as a beacon of guidance on the spiritual plane for the afterlife.

The fusion of the hearts transformed Gao Ming’s heart into an extraordinary “chamber,” a space that existed in a surreal state, neither fully in the shadow world nor completely in the tangible world. This chamber became a repository of agony and despair, each sacrificial victim from the blood pool becoming an integral part of its macabre architecture, transforming into chains and instruments of torture.

As this transformation occurred, the four aspects witnessed Gao Ming’s fall from the apex of the statue into the blood pool below.

In this moment, the heartbeats reverberated, signifying a profound connection between Gao Ming’s newly transformed heart and the Sishui Apartment. This connection extended to wherever the blood had flowed, symbolizing a deep and mysterious link.

“Congratulations,” a voice resonated, acknowledging the grim fusion. The meat-eating investigator, the residents, and the body of Yan Hua, along with the eight unfortunate victims of the massacre, all merged within the deity statue that had now manifested in the heart chamber inside Gao Ming.

This statue, constructed from the corporeal remnants of his teammate Yan Hua, was a grotesque yet awe-inspiring sight, featuring eight arms and four faces. As this new spirit materialized, the flesh shrine around them began to crumble, and Wu Bo’s chest wound deteriorated at an alarming rate. Despite his condition, the elderly man looked at Gao Ming, his eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions, devoid of hatred or pain, but heavy with an indescribable sense of despair.

Meanwhile, Xuan Wen, caught in the vortex of uncontrollable shadows, ceased her resistance against the shadow world. She embraced the darkness entirely, her sole intention being to ensnare Situ An with her, both of them vanishing into the shadowy abyss.

“Gao Ming!” Situ An’s face contorted with rage. His two decades of meticulous preparation, involving the blood sacrifices of countless investigators to summon the heart, had been abruptly disrupted and usurped by Gao Ming.

As the blood increased upon his spectral form, Situ An’s obsessions morphed into an overwhelming torrent of hatred. However, in the end, he was unable to evade the enveloping shadows.

“Fate? Beyond human control? Gao Ming! Gao Ming!!!” His anguished cry echoed through the air.

While the shadows receded back through the rift created by Xuan Wen, the blood flowed into Gao Ming’s heart chamber during this period, leaving behind an empty hole in the ground devoid of Xuan Wen and Situ An.

Things were finally over. Looking upwards, Gao Ming, who had lost his left eye and endured nineteen minutes of excruciating torture at the hands of a malevolent spirit, was covered in wounds. A talisman had impaled his abdomen, his body was marked with black characters, and his chest heaved with shallow breaths.

“Is this a Level Four anomaly? Is all this a natural disaster, or a man-made calamity?” These questions lingered in the air.

Eventually, it was Wan Qiu, the last unharmed member of their team, along with the little girl Nannan, who assisted Gao Ming out of the blood pool.

The aftermath was grim. Almost everyone in the Sishui Apartment had been massacred. Qing Ge, severely injured, managed to escape in the ensuing chaos with the last two investigators. Only a few mutated residents remained, bearing witness to the harrowing events.

“I… want to stay here,” Wan Qiu declared gently, her hand tenderly caressing Nannan’s head. His voice was resolute yet tinged with a newfound sense of duty. “They have lost their mother. I-I will take on the responsibility of caring for them.”

Gao Ming, his lips cracked and dry, tasted the metallic tang of blood at the corner of his mouth and responded with a simple, yet heartfelt, “Okay.”

Wan Qiu announced with a tone of finality, “The haunting is over, the shadows are also gone, and the Flesh Immortal no longer exists in this world.” As he spoke, he carefully brought Zhu Miao Miao to Gao Ming’s attention, his concern evident. “She’s in critical condition and needs immediate medical help.”

Zhu Miao Miao was visibly weakened, her life force substantially drained from utilizing the slaying talisman twice.

In the aftermath, the ominous, meaty odor that had permeated the Sishui Apartment began to dissipate. Once pervasive and menacing, the shadows retreated into obscurity, and the temperature in the building slowly started to rise, signaling the definitive conclusion of the harrowing Flesh Immortal ghost story.

Gao Ming, clutching his injured abdomen, watched Wan Qiu walk away. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but words failed him. He understood his destiny and his desire to contribute further, yet he couldn’t help but feel that perhaps this was a fitting fate for a young man who had been plagued by misfortune his entire life.

Attempting to stand, Gao Ming realized the severity of his injuries was greater than he had initially thought.

He contemplated aloud, “There might still be other injured people in the building, and perhaps some investigators who have survived.”

As he stepped forward, the receding shadows gave way to his presence, his blood leaving stark footprints on the stairway.

Gripping the handrail for support, Gao Ming painstakingly climbed the last step.

Standing alone in the dark corridor, now devoid of the nauseating scent of meat, a morning breeze gently wafted through, stirring Gao Ming’s blood-matted hair as he approached the main entrance of Sishui Apartment Building A.

With a determined push against the door, Gao Ming exerted the last of his strength, uncertain whether the world beyond would offer salvation or further tribulations.

Finally, the aged door creaked open, allowing a sliver of dawn light to penetrate the lingering darkness of a night that had felt eternally long.

The storm that had raged for days had ceased, revealing a clear sky. Stepping out of the building, Gao Ming, his clothes soaked with blood, emerged into the daylight.

He raised the black ring in his hand, stepping boldly into the sunlight.

As the lingering shadows dispersed, investigators from across the city, who had been waiting anxiously, caught sight of Gao Ming.

“The shadows are gone! The anomaly has been resolved!”

“Look, someone is coming out of the apartment!”

The morning sun illuminated the bloodstains as Gao Ming surveyed the excited faces around him with his one functional eye. These investigators had put their lives on the line; had he perished inside, they would have been the next to brave the unknown.

As Gao Ming emerged from the Sishui Apartment, the crowd that had been anxiously waiting erupted into a wave of movement, surging forward to meet him. Among them were additional investigators dispatched by the Lishan Investigation Bureau, who recognized him immediately.

“Gao Ming? It’s Gao Ming!” someone shouted, their voice tinged with a mix of surprise and relief.

Another voice rang out, clarifying his identity for those who might not know. “He’s from the Lishan Investigation Bureau, the acting head of the first investigation team, Gao Ming!”

As these acknowledgments filled the air, the black characters that had spread across Gao Ming’s face during his ordeal in the apartment seemed to react. Gao Ming heard the cheers and calls of his name, but they sounded distant, almost as if they were being carried away on the wind. He glanced down at his own hand, noticing the character for ‘life’ etched into his palm. It was as if the symbol was trying to convey a message to him, a reminder or perhaps a warning.

His consciousness began to waver, each beat of his heart sending waves of excruciating pain through his battered body. Clutching tightly to the character for ‘life’ in his palm, as if holding on to the last thread of hope or perhaps a final acknowledgment of his struggle to survive, Gao Ming’s strength finally gave way.

He collapsed at the very spot where the shadow of the building met the bright sunlight, a poignant symbol of his own journey at the intersection of darkness and light, of despair and hope. His fall seemed to echo the tumultuous journey he had endured, a physical manifestation of the fine line he had walked between life and death.

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