Free Web NovelChapter 47: Chapter 47: You, Speak!
All the Survivors were furious, everyone searching everywhere, trying to find any trace of the food thief. After a round of searching, not even a shadow was found.
This made quite a few people laugh in exasperation,
"I don’t even know if I can survive this time. If I can’t, I’ll probably be the first one to starve to death."
"This is actual despair, isn’t it? Someone realized they won’t get out, so they stole everyone else’s food?"
"Honestly, I’m not hungry. I brought plenty of compressed biscuits in my backpack. But this is still my last meal."
...
Countless people muttered to themselves, as if their words were meant for the audience in the livestream room.
The Blood Nurse stepped outside. Finding humans inside the Dungeon was an easy task for her.
She quickly found her target—a middle-aged man. When she saw him, he was wiping beads of sweat from his forehead.
The second day’s heat was already scorching. His skin was slackening, and just a single day in the Dungeon had tormented him until he was unrecognizable.
He hadn’t found his food. In despair, he rushed toward the exit, jogging as he gasped for breath.
He wore a watch on his wrist—the special item he’d paid a fortune to acquire.
If he actively turned back the hands, he could reverse time.
According to the seller, there was no limit to how far back he could go. If he were strong enough, with a big enough blue gauge, he could rewind all the way to the day before the Dungeon appeared.
If he knew in advance where the next Dungeon would be, he could avoid it and never have to enter again.
Or, in the moment before his death, he could rewind to when everything was still safe.
The seller wanted a fortune, but he had the money, so he could afford it.
But he regretted buying it,
The item did do what the seller had promised—it could reverse time without limit. But when he tried it, using up all his energy, he found that time only rewound by a single second.
He knew he’d been played,
He got his hands on an unrivaled item, but there wasn’t a human in this world who could use it perfectly.
That’s how it ended up in his sucker’s hands.
Now all he could think about was whether, at the moment of death, if he threw in all his blood, energy, and flesh, he could get one last chance to survive.
If he could rewind even one minute, maybe he could use that brief moment to escape from the wraith’s grasp.
But that was only his own wild hope. He knew, even if he used up his life, time wouldn’t rewind more than five seconds.
If he could really go back a whole minute, this would be a god-tier artifact.
Some people suggested that if you reverse time a second after taking lethal damage, you could return to the state you were in before you were hurt.
He agreed with that, but if you’d already been caught by a wraith, it just meant you’d die after being attacked again—a difference that made no difference.
To the wraiths, it was just a funny little toy, something that had to be whacked twice.
He couldn’t sell it, couldn’t afford new Dungeon items—this was his current plight.
He was still trying to figure out how to slip through the exit, when a deep chill climbed up his back, then a sharp-nailed hand clamped his neck and yanked him up in the air.
Terror flooded him instantly, his face flushing red, breath coming in ragged spurts.
In just an instant, that hand jerked him around. His 180-pound body was hoisted by the throat, legs kicking above the floor.
He stared at the wraith in front of him, its centipede-like scars, patches of flesh stitched together, marks running from the face all the way under its collar.
He’d run into a wraith!
This wraith didn’t have an inch of intact skin! It was all sewn up.
His mind scrambled to recall information, and something suddenly clicked—he’d studied this particular wraith before. He recognized it instantly.
The Blood Nurse!
The thought of having his fatty organs gouged out and sewn together with some grotesque thing almost made him want to end it himself.
"Heh, gotcha!" The Blood Nurse grabbed his neck and hauled him home like a dead pig.
At that moment, viewers in his livestream room all heaved a sigh,
[There goes another one.]
[I’m out, switching to someone else’s stream.]
[Sigh, once the exit’s closed, nobody can get out.]
[Leaving.]
...
The moment he was caught by the Blood Nurse, his livestream viewers dropped instantly to zero. This was the end—everyone wanted to watch the people who might escape, see how they’d do it.
The middle-aged fatty watched as she dragged him back home, despair flooding in.
Just as the urge to kill himself flickered up, his body went stiff, unable to make a move to end it all.
Staring at the door of the stand-alone house as it closed, he shut his eyes.
Hadn’t he already accepted death?
But he was a little bitter after all, not even getting a last proper meal.
Who the fuck was such a bastard? Who the hell stole the food I’d prepped?!
With his eyes squeezed shut, the middle-aged fatty fumed in silent despair, not daring to open them, not daring to watch whatever kind of brutal end awaited him.
He felt himself being dragged through the house, then thrown into a corner.
Minutes passed—he didn’t feel any pain, nor did he feel himself being bled or dismembered.
He cracked his eyes open a slit, cautiously scoping out the surroundings.
The moment he opened his eyes, he froze.
Because right in front of him were piles of instant hot pots and other ready-to-eat meals. He even recognized his own deluxe bento box.
Blood Slaughter, wielding a Saw Meat Knife, crouched right in front of him, bone-mask glaring at him coldly.
"You. Tell me—which of these tastes best." Blood Slaughter saw him open his eyes and pushed piles of instant food toward him.
"Huh?" The middle-aged fatty stared blankly at the scene before him. The room was unusually clean, food piled high on the table and on the floor.
He was so used to blood and grime in every Dungeon that this felt completely alien.
Did I just escape?
Was this Blood Slaughter some cosplayer?
Am I dead? Is this a dream?
"Speak!" Blood Slaughter’s gloomy voice sounded right in front of him.
Startled, he quickly grabbed his own instant hot pot. "Th-this...this one. This one’s the best..."
He didn’t know if anyone else’s food was good, but he knew his was the best—after all, he picked it all himself.
Blood Slaughter gently took his food, scrutinizing it up and down.
The middle-aged fatty was a little at a loss. He glanced at the food all over the floor—there was every kind you could imagine.
So much food, all sorts of variety.
He could tell—most Survivors’ so-called ’last meal’ had ended up here.
But what the hell is this?!
Wraiths eating human food—and asking which one tasted better?
So much food! Did they rob every Survivor’s stash?!
Nervously, he looked at the two wraiths in the room. Blood Slaughter picked up his meal, put it on the table, then squinted, fixing him with a deadly stare.
"Anything else?"
