Chapter Forty-Two: Boiling Blood

The tentacle, which should have been completely killed by the highly corrosive disinfectant, suddenly sprang to life. With terrifying force, it shattered a man's face shield and forced its way into his mouth. The nightmarish scene was enough to make even the bravest men scream in terror. In that moment, everyone shrieked like frightened girls.

“What are you all standing around for? Run!” Wang Qiuhan roared, driving everyone away from the thrashing, unfortunate soul. Alone, he yanked wires from the wall-mounted electrical box, combined them with the sprayer on his back, and—relying on his superb technical skills—constructed a makeshift electric gun.

“Come on, you bastard!” Wang Qiuhan screamed, his voice cracking. The crude weapon sparked with blinding white arcs as he drove it into the body of the man the creature had invaded. The convulsions redoubled, but within seconds, the biological electricity within the cells was completely overwhelmed by the massive current. Both the monster and its host fell still, leaving behind only the stench of scorched flesh.

The acrid scent of ozone left Wang Qiuhan’s mind reeling. He collapsed, gasping, barely able to process the night’s overwhelming horrors.

The charred corpse jerked suddenly. Its blackened surface flaked away, revealing raw, fresh tissue beneath. At the sight, Wang Qiuhan burst into hysterical laughter, raising the electric gun and firing again and again, but it was useless.

Not only had the surface of the tentacle developed a high-resistance coating, but conductor-like filaments had been embedded in the grooves, channeling all the current safely into the ground. The tissue remained unharmed.

Such was the terrifying mutability of Adonsa in its second evolutionary stage.

Wang Qiuhan watched as the mass of tentacles crept closer, winding up his legs, body, and cheeks with a lover’s intimacy. His laughter grew ever more manic—until it was abruptly cut off, leaving only the grotesque sounds of feeding.

Wet, smacking noises followed—a long, bloody smear dragged across the floor, slowly transforming into a series of chaotic footprints, large and small, heavy and light by turns.

A writhing mass of tentacles was gradually merging and differentiating into a more complex locomotor system. Deformed limbs sprang forth and dissolved in turn, as the creature experimented to optimize its body’s structure.

Rounding a corner, a hail of bullets shredded the nascent form Adonsa had managed to assemble. Yet the fragments, teeming with life, used their newly evolved muscle fibers to leap onto the bodies of the brave security guards. With razor-sharp mouthparts, they burrowed in with ease.

The guards screamed and clawed at the swelling flesh, only to find their bodies slipping beyond their control.

The frenzied mutations of the second stage brought Adonsa both grave danger and limitless potential. It could now freely extract and recombine any desired genetic traits from its biological compendium, transforming decay into miracle, reconstructing the optimal body for its needs.

From this moment, bullets, artillery, electricity, acid, fire, even ice—so long as they did not exceed the limits of life—could no longer inflict mortal harm upon Adonsa.

Of course, this did not mean Adonsa was without weakness. Its consciousness still relied on a central nervous system; if someone destroyed all its brains, the entity known as Adonsa would naturally dissipate. As for resurrection, even Adonsa dared not attempt it.

Though it was not yet immortal from a single cell, given enough time to evolve, it would one day swim through magma if it wished.

The guards’ struggles soon ceased. Adonsa had transformed their bodies into new nests for itself, spreading in all directions.

It tried to reshape its form into that of a human, but always collapsed halfway into a formless mass of flesh. The budding five fingers would merge into entangled, boneless appendages.

Even the parasitized guards, as they moved, became less human with every step—mutations surfacing relentlessly, uncontrollably.

The second stage of evolution remained unstable, with minor lapses in control that would trouble Adonsa for a long time.

Yet now, having crossed the threshold, Adonsa had ascended to a new realm, wielding overwhelming power against ordinary humans. Only organized high-tech armies, espers, and the most mysterious Pulsebearers remained as threats.

“Devour, evolve, conquer…” Adonsa’s command resonated through every split consciousness.

It yearned for more flesh, more space—to grow, to expand, to become a behemoth that could shake the world.

At last, after wreaking havoc, the aberrations of the split bodies began to subside. Adonsa reasserted control over the rampaging monsters.

When Adonsa reconnected with Arthur and Ossa, the pair had already become worm-like creatures. Ossa, still retaining his human fastidiousness, was on the verge of collapse.

As Adonsa hastily restored their bodies, it suddenly noticed something odd—their mutations were far milder than the others. Over half the split bodies had suffered catastrophic, lethal mutations, yet Arthur and Ossa remained, however ghastly their appearance. In fact, their mutations were gradually trending positive.

Even without Adonsa’s intervention, they might have survived the evolution—albeit as something unsightly.

Why was there such a difference? Was it the result of independent personalities? This round of evolution sounded a warning for Adonsa. Though it could control all its split bodies through sheer computational might, if its core consciousness faltered—as in this evolutionary crisis—every body would be affected. Should someone discover a devastating attack that struck at its very essence, not even a trillion avatars could survive.

If independent personalities could mitigate this all-or-nothing vulnerability, should every split body be equipped with a simulated consciousness?

From an evolutionary standpoint, diversity within the species is the best defense against disaster. Uniformity would cripple the race’s adaptability to complex environments. Giving each split body an independent personality, forming a complex array of evolving individuals, would indeed greatly enhance efficiency and survival chances.

But then another problem arose—would some break free and rebel? In the future, with the number of split bodies destined to exceed trillions, even the strictest surveillance might fail.

While Adonsa weighed the pros and cons, the night’s catastrophe reached its peak.