Chapter 25 - Blood Bugs

I lay on the ground, regretting my hasty decision.

My entire body felt like it was on fire—each breath seared with pain—but the ice elements in my body had diminished significantly.

I could now use my spiritual energy almost at the same level as before being frozen.

However, I noticed something strange my spiritual energy had gained an elemental attribute.

It resembled the python’s ice energy, but it seemed more like a forced conversion. Not all of my energy had turned into ice some resisted the change, fighting against it.

This conflict was the most troublesome part.

Whenever I tried to channel my spiritual energy, it sometimes failed, as the ice energy clashed with my normal spiritual energy inside my body.

"Ugh, so frustrating! Why won’t these remnants of ice elements just disappear?"

I clenched my fists in frustration, hoping for a swift resolution to this problem. I needed it gone so I could finally acquire the elite gene cap potion! It was so close, yet it felt so far out of reach.

I stood up and glanced out the window. The situation outside seemed to worsen every time I looked.

The clashes between soldiers and the various organizations were no longer hidden they fought openly in the streets. As time went on, more and more organizations emerged, forcing ordinary people to sell their shops or destroying them outright, leaving countless lives in ruins.

Why were these people so greedy? They already had so much in this broken world, yet they wanted more. Why?

Perhaps only someone as rich as them could understand. More likely, it was fear—the fear of losing everything they had worked so hard to gain, only to have it all slip away in the end.

As the skirmishes finally died down, the veil of night blanketed the sky.

The next day, I had to visit the smithy, but a hollow feeling lingered inside me. The old man’s personality had been terrible—his nagging irritating—but after all these years, his presence had felt like someone looking out for me. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t comforting in the usual sense, but it had been something. And now, it was gone.

***

(Author's Note: I’ve had issues with formatting when posting my works—line breaks sometimes fail to register properly. To avoid confusion, I now use "***" to signify time and location shifts.)

“Sir, everything is ready. Shall we commence the operation?”

The speaker, a man in his forties, bowed respectfully to another man seated behind a desk. The latter’s face remained focused on the documents spread before him.

The man was none other than the youngest son of the Dark Hawk organization's chairman—and the only survivor of his father's wrath.

“Yes, do it.” His voice was icy cold.

“But, sir, when the other organizations realize what we’ve done, they won’t tolerate us in the city anymore. The city will suffer greatly...” The man hesitated, trying to dissuade him from this reckless plan. It had seemed insane from the start.

“I don’t care! Do it—or you can join the others down there!” The younger man’s fist slammed against the desk, sending papers scattering to the floor with the force of his sudden movement.

His gaze was piercingly fierce as he glared at the man before him.

“I understand, sir,” the man replied, bowing deeply. He turned and left, steeling himself for the chaos that would inevitably follow. When this operation began, hell would seem like paradise compared to what they were about to unleash on the city.

***

In the barracks' medic room, wounded soldiers lay sprawled across the ground, their bodies wrapped in bloodied bandages.

“Ha, this is the third incident. We don’t have any more beds for the wounded,” muttered a man in a white coat, his ID badge identifying him as ‘Dr. Henrick.’

“It’s always us who suffer for their decisions,” remarked a nurse standing behind him, her voice heavy with frustration.

Dr. Henrick, an older man and one of the longest-serving medics in the barracks, held little authority in the hierarchy. Yet, he was deeply respected by many for his tireless dedication to his work. Despite the meager pay, he continued his duties because he genuinely loved helping those in need and cherished the gratitude in his patients’ smiles.

The sound of hurried boots pounding against the floor broke the momentary quiet. Soldiers entered, carrying another casualty—a man with a deep, gaping wound in his abdomen. His stomach had been viciously torn open.

“Sir, please save him!” one of the soldiers pleaded desperately, scanning the room until his eyes locked onto Dr. Henrick.

The doctor said nothing, allowing himself to be dragged to the stretcher by the frantic soldier. Resistance would only escalate the chaos, and saving lives always took precedence.

“What happened to him?” the doctor asked, his voice sharp with shock at the sight of the brutal injury.

“We don’t know, doctor! He screamed while wandering off to take care of... personal business. We found him like this,” explained another soldier, his panicked expression betraying that he likely knew the injured man.

Dr. Henrick examined the soldier closely, his trained eyes quickly assessing the situation. The man had already lost too much blood, and there was no pulse.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t save him. It’s too late for him,” Dr. Henrick said, his voice heavy as he finished his examination.

“Lies! He’s still breathing!” one of the soldiers shouted, grabbing the doctor by his coat and pointing toward the mauled soldier.

“Impossible! I checked his pulse and examined his wounds—there’s no way he could have survived this long!” Shocked, Henrick knelt again to recheck the body. But what he found made his blood run cold.

It wasn’t the soldier’s body that was moving—it was something inside him.

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Horrified, Henrick staggered backward, his face pale. “Something’s inside him! He’s been dead for a while—something is feasting on his body!” He pointed at the corpse, his trembling hand shaking violently.

“I don’t believe you! You’re no doctor! Where’s a real doctor when we need one?!” another soldier shouted in frustration. The chaos in the room only grew, with injured men lying everywhere, and no one else available to confirm Henrick’s claims.

One of the soldiers, who had carried the body in, refused to look at it again. He turned away, his face pale, unable to bear the sight of the gruesome injuries.

“This is how you treat us?! We risk our lives for you, and you won’t even treat a wounded soldier!” the enraged soldier yelled, his voice cracking as he pointed an accusatory finger at Henrick.

But before anyone could react further, a loud boom echoed through the room, and blood sprayed in every direction. From the dead soldier’s body, a massive worm burst forth, its grotesque form writhing as it broke free.

The creature began devouring the corpse in front of everyone, its sickening movements sending waves of revulsion and panic through the room. The sight was so horrifying that even the enraged soldier froze in shock.

Despite their initial paralysis, the soldiers quickly sprang into action. They attacked the worm, crushing it until its reddish blood splattered everywhere.

The room fell silent, save for the heavy breathing of those who had witnessed the grotesque scene.

The soldier who had carried the body in was utterly broken. He collapsed to the ground, staring blankly at the now-lifeless corpse of his comrade. His lips quivered, but no words came.

What had happened was no isolated incident. Similar horrors were unfolding all across the city.

***

I awoke abruptly from my sleep, my senses tingling with unease. Something had entered my spiritual field.

Rising from my bed, I focused on the presence, my gaze narrowing as I spotted it.

A small, red bug crawled toward me across the floor. It wasn’t large—about the size of my little finger—but its presence radiated an unnatural, menacing aura.

Squashing the bug under my boot, I shook my head, trying to dismiss the unease it left behind. I wanted to go back to sleep, but something about it kept me on edge.

Why had it triggered my spiritual energy field? This wasn’t something an ordinary bug could do.

“Kyaaaa!” A piercing scream erupted from somewhere in the city, jolting me upright. The sound struck a chord of déjà vu.

Rushing out into the hallway, I found people spilling out of their rooms in confusion. My breath hitched as I noticed them—those same bugs I had squashed earlier. They were everywhere.

The walls. The floor. The ceiling.

As the others began to notice the infestation, panic broke out. One person screamed, his voice filled with terror.

“Blood Bugs!” Without hesitation, he bolted back into his room. Moments later, the shattering of glass echoed through the hallway as he smashed a window to escape.

The bugs, as if reacting to the noise, turned their attention to the nearest people and started crawling toward them in waves.

I unleashed my spiritual energy in an attempt to repel them, hoping to scare them away. But instead, it had the opposite effect. Every single bug froze for a moment, then turned toward me in unison.

And they moved fast—faster than I could have imagined.

Damn it! What are these things?!

I slammed my door shut, but it was no use. The bugs, as if made of liquid, squeezed through the cracks beneath the door.

Panicking, I turned toward the window. Without a second thought, I sprinted and leaped through it, shattering the glass as I dove into the night air.

I landed hard on the ground, the impact making my legs buckle momentarily under my weight. Thankfully, it was temporary my enhanced body was far stronger than a regular human’s, and the drop from the second floor wasn’t enough to harm me.

Looking around, I saw the bugs swarming everywhere, relentless in their movements.

But then, unexpectedly, they began to retreat.

People armed with strange sprays appeared, dispersing the bugs with quick bursts of mist. The creatures hissed and fled, their numbers thinning rapidly.

What the hell are Blood Bugs? I’d never encountered anything like them before.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my shoulder. I whirled around, ready to fight, but it was Hen. His expression was grim.

“Take this, kid,” he said, thrusting a spray can into my hand. “And don’t let those things cling to you. If they do, they’ll burrow into your body and make a nest inside you.”

I stared at him, horrified.

“Don’t worry—they’re not strong,” Hen continued, sensing my fear. “But they’re damn good at reproducing. Extremely fast, too.”

I gripped the spray tightly, glancing around at the scattered bugs and the people still fighting them off.

Don’t worry. They’ll make a nest inside me if they catch me?!

“How did these things get into the city? And how did you know where I live?” I demanded, my voice sharp as I sprayed another wave of bug killer at the encroaching swarm.

“I don’t know how they got in,” Hen replied, his focus on the bugs as he emptied his spray can with precision. “But—” He paused to spray at a particularly dense cluster.

“I’ve had people keeping an eye on you. Can’t have you running off on me, after all. They owe me a favor.” A malicious grin spread across his face, smug and irritating.

Damn this old man. Why did I even miss him?!

My thoughts fumed, but my body moved instinctively, spraying even more of the bug killer at the relentless insects.

“But it’s strange,” Hen muttered, eyeing the growing swarm around us. “It’s not their season. There shouldn’t be this many of them. Someone must be breeding and releasing them deliberately.”

“Who do you think would do that?” I asked, holding out my hand for another can of bug spray. My fingers were already cramping, and the last thing I wanted was to run out.

Hen rummaged through his backpack and handed me another can. “One of the major organizations, most likely,” he said, his voice grim.

Heaven bless whoever invented this bug spray, I thought as I resumed spraying.

“We should head to my smithy,” Hen continued. “It’s safer there.”

He led the way, cutting through the swarms as the bugs crawled toward us from every direction. I considered using my spiritual energy to wipe them out, but seeing how they reacted earlier, I realized it would only make things worse. These creatures seemed to crave spiritual energy.

It took us over an hour to walk less than a kilometer, the bugs slowing us at every step. When we finally reached Hen’s smithy, he guided me inside and down to his basement.

As we descended, I noticed a variety of herbs and traps lining the passageway, each carefully positioned. None of the traps activated as Hen showed me the safe path through them. Eventually, we arrived at a small room.

“This,” Hen said, gesturing dramatically as he sat down in a chair, “is my apocalypse bunker.”

The room wasn’t large or particularly impressive. A locked door on one side likely led to another escape route. There were three narrow beds pushed against one wall, a small mountain of canned food, and an even larger stash of bug spray stacked neatly in the corner.

Hen flexed his fingers, massaging them after holding down the spray nozzle for so long. “Not even a thank you for saving your life, kid?” he asked, smirking at me.

“Thank you, but I could have survived without you,” I said, turning away. I couldn’t stand the sight of his smug, grinning face.

“Heh, you’ve changed, haven’t you?” Hen snickered, clearly enjoying my reaction.

“Ugh, enough already. Just tell me, how long do these Blood Bugs stick around?” I changed the subject, hoping to steer the conversation away from his irritating glee.

Hen shrugged nonchalantly. “Hard to say. When they show up during their natural season, they can last anywhere from a week to a month. But these? They’re man-made. Probably not long—after all, how can you control a city if everyone’s dead?”

He spoke as if he didn’t care, but something about his tone hinted otherwise. The way his shoulders stiffened ever so slightly told me he knew more than he was letting on.

Unbeknownst to me, Hen had already informed the city lord of the impending danger.

I sank into one of the chairs, trying to let the exhaustion seep out of my body. But my rest didn’t last long. A faint hissing sound caught my attention, followed by a green smoke curling into the room from the entrance we had just come through.

“What’s that?” I asked, alarmed, as I turned to Hen.

He showed no expression, almost as if he had been expecting it.

“That,” he said casually, “is the same bug spray we used earlier, but in a much stronger concentration. It’s designed to be more effective, but it’s also not exactly pleasant to breathe in.”

As he spoke, he pulled out a gas mask from his bag and strapped it onto his face without any hesitation.

“What about me?” I asked, glaring at him.

Hen shrugged again. “I only have one. Didn’t exactly prepare for company, you know.”

He didn’t wait for my response. Instead, he adjusted the mask, waved lazily over his shoulder, and walked straight into the creeping green fog.

I muttered a string of curses under my breath, channeling my spiritual energy around my body as a protective barrier. As the green mist touched the edges of my energy field, it parted instantly, unable to penetrate.

Satisfied that I wouldn’t suffocate, I followed Hen.

We hadn’t been in his so-called bunker for long, but honestly, I didn’t mind leaving. A month in close quarters with this old man? No thanks.