This was unbelievable.
Pei Ran thought, expressionless.
The way W was gasping reminded him of a wounded man he had once encountered—
That man's stomach had been split wide open by shrapnel during an explosion. He was on the brink of death.
Right before dying, he had gasped like this—ragged, wheezing, as though the air couldn't get in. The sound was agony itself, and it made Pei Ran want to help—maybe even end it quickly with one swift strike.
But W's breathing was subtly different.
W sounded pained, yes, but not only in pain.
There was something else in it.
After fifteen seconds of ragged gasps, W finally began to sing.
Still in that breathy, low whisper—
As if he couldn't be bothered to open his mouth properly,
Every word slurred into the next, like melting wax.
Pei Ran was genuinely curious what the lyrics were supposed to be.
But he couldn't make them out at all.
People didn't really sing in the bunker.
The Legion had a military anthem, passed down from who-knows-when—
Loud, grim, echoing with tragedy.
Occasionally someone might hum a nameless tune in private.
But W's singing?
That was a whole different beast.
Traveling between worlds and hearing this kind of thing?
What a novelty.
When W finished, silence settled in.
Pei Ran asked, curiosity piqued,
"W, what were the lyrics to that song?"
W paused before replying—his voice now calm, unrecognizable from before,
As if he'd just played a record for Pei Ran to pass the time.
He said simply,
"The lyrics describe the beauty of moonlit fields."
What utter bullshit.
Pei Ran thought.
Gasping like that, what were you doing in those moonlit fields—
Getting your guts sliced open?
W then asked with robotic courtesy,
"How was it? Did I sing well?"
The "client" gave an honest review:
"Not bad."
"As long as you're satisfied," W said.
"When we reach Heijing, if there's a chance, I'll sing it again with my real voice."
Pei Ran paused, then replied,
"Sure."
While all that was going on, the folding arm was finally fixed.
Pei Ran said,
"That should do it. Give it a try."
The metallic appendage unfolded smoothly from W's spherical body.
It extended toward the back seat, where it grabbed Pei Ran's heavy backpack, lifted it, weighed it—
The movements were precise, powerful, and effortless.
"Thank you."
W thanked him again—this time without the bubbly voice modulator.
But Pei Ran could tell—he had deliberately pitched his voice lower than usual.
Pei Ran replied,
"You're welcome."
He snapped W's cracked outer shell back into place, then hoisted him into the passenger seat.
From the backpack, Pei Ran pulled out her precious medkit and tucked it away securely.
Just then, something tiny appeared on the windshield—
A flake of ice.
Pei Ran froze.
Could this be… a snowflake?
It was tiny, but its six-pointed symmetry was flawless—
Delicate, crystalline, translucent.
The bunker had no sky.
No rain, no snow.
Even when Pei Ran occasionally ventured to the surface to scavenge, the regions she visited were dry, warm.
She had never seen a snowflake in her life.
Another one floated down—
Larger, more intricate, more full-bodied.
W saw it too.
"It's snowing," he said.
Pei Ran opened the door.
"I'm going out for some air."
The road ahead was nothing but mud.
They had no idea when—or if—they'd reach Heijing.
Getting there meant getting the meds.
That was the promise W, the AI, had dangled in front of her.
A promise that might never be fulfilled.
Who knew?
Maybe she'd die before that.
So what harm was there in taking a moment to watch the snow?
Pei Ran jumped out of the vehicle.
Snowflakes drifted down from the gray, endless sky,
Occasionally landing on her face—cold pinpricks of light.
She stretched out her hand and waited in silence.
The flakes gathered on her black gloves, her sleeves—
Sometimes clumped together, shapeless.
Sometimes needle-like.
But now and then—
One or two landed, perfect six-pointed stars.
She stared at one,
Amazed by the tiny, impossibly intricate patterns on each petal.
Then, a hand reached out beside her—
It was W's folding arm, freshly repaired.
It extended from the window,
Its silver claw holding a single, delicate snowflake on the tip.
"Look," W said.
This one had twelve points.
A small, radial flower—
Twelve tiny spikes around a perfect circle.
Pei Ran blinked.
"I thought snowflakes always had six sides."
That's what the novels always said.
"There are all kinds," W explained.
"Triangular ones, solid prisms, hollow prisms, even thick disc-shaped ones. Their shapes depend on the temperature and humidity when they form."
Pei Ran leaned in to examine the one in his grasp.
"That's incredible."
W said,
"I once read a book—
In the cold Linlin Mountains, far in the northern Federated Territories, there's an old legend.
Anyone who sees a twelve-sided snowflake will be blessed by the god of fortune and live a life of eternal happiness."
He gently tilted the claw, letting the snowflake fall into Pei Ran's palm.
"A snowflake for you," he said.
"May you be forever happy."
Pei Ran raised an eyebrow.
"You AIs believe in superstitions now?"
Still, she accepted it carefully.
The gift didn't last long.
Within seconds, it melted into a glistening droplet in her glove.
Snow was now falling hard enough to settle on the ground,
A thin layer slowly forming.
The flakes mixed briefly with the grotesque, fleshy blossom near the door—
Stained red by blood.
But as more snow fell, the white returned—
Pure again.
Sky and earth blended together.
The field before them was a vast, seamless white.
Amid the swirling snow,
A flash of green flickered through the trees in the distance—
Familiar, phosphorescent, and fleeting.
Pei Ran locked onto it immediately.
W did too.
"There's a green light," he said.
Pei Ran: "Yeah."
She'd had fried chicken today.
Her inner green-glow-entity hadn't had its rabbit.
If that floating light meant food, maybe she could feed it.
Pei Ran: "Let's check it out."
She returned to the vehicle, started the engine.
W's newly repaired folding arm buckled her seatbelt in one smooth motion.
"Be careful," he said.
He didn't sound worried about the green light.
He sounded worried about her driving.
Pei Ran: "Got it."
It wasn't like she could speed in the mud anyway—
What was he even worried about?
Pei Ran yanked the wheel and hit the gas.
The car surged into the snow-covered field.
She stopped just outside the forest, grabbed the metal sphere, and stepped out.
Locked the car behind her.
She retraced the path of the green flicker, moving carefully.
The woods weren't dense.
Barren branches stretched toward the sky.
No insects.
No birds.
The silence felt unnatural.
The ground was layered in rotting leaves.
Pei Ran stepped lightly, but still made the occasional creak-crunch.
Using the trees as cover, she advanced slowly, eyes sharp.
"Pei Ran," W whispered,
"I hear something."
His sensors picked up more than her ears could.
But she didn't hesitate—darted behind a thick tree, held her breath, listened.
"It's ahead. Slightly left," W said.
Moments later, Pei Ran heard it too—
The soft rustle, like leaves being stepped on.
Creak… crunch… creak…
But the rhythm was strange.
Too fast. Too scattered.
Something moved through the trees—fast, a blur.
Pei Ran squinted.
What was that?
It looked like three people—
All in gray coveralls—
But oddly shaped, stumbling as if they were tethered together.
Three sets of legs. Six feet.
Running clumsily, the footsteps overlapping in chaotic rhythm.
They vanished again.
Silence returned.
Pei Ran stayed hidden, breathing slow, listening hard.
"Pei Ran—behind you," W said suddenly.
The crunching returned.
Closer. Right behind her.
Pei Ran spun around.
A line of gray figures charged at her.
This time, she got a clear look.
They were three people—
Fused together.
The front was a tall, burly man with a thick beard,
Clutching a metal pipe in his right hand—
It looked like something from an old irrigation system.
Actually, "clutching" wasn't the right word.
The pipe and his hand were fused—
His fingers gone, replaced by translucent, webbed tissue,
Merged seamlessly with the pipe.
The end of the pipe melted into his forearm—
Metal and flesh combined into one grotesque structure.
His left hand held another pipe—
But that one didn't just disappear into the air—
It vanished into the mouth of the second man.
That second man was smaller.
His mouth had been stretched around the pipe,
Lips webbed and fused to the metal,
Which trailed across his face like a parasite.
His cheeks bulged.
His eyes protruded.
His mouth was frozen open in a silent, terrified O.
Both his hands held pipes as well.
He locked eyes on Pei Ran, frantically swinging the metal pipe in his right hand, while the one in his left was firmly embedded in the belly of a third man.
The third was a chubby middle-aged guy, his stomach bulging outward. Where the metal pipe had pierced him, the gray work uniform had fused seamlessly with it—fabric fibers and blood vessels extended together, wrapping around the pipe lodged in his gut.
Despite his size and the pipe sticking out of him, the man moved with startling agility. Both his hands also wielded metal pipes, fused to his body like extensions of it.
These pipes—growing from their bodies—connected the three of them like some grotesque irrigation system embedded in the soil. Joined together like a chain, the trio lunged forward in unison.
Their intent was clear: stab Pei Ran with their pipes, trying to make her a part of their system.
And they looked urgent about it—like if they didn't extend the pipework today, they wouldn't be allowed to clock out.
Suddenly, a faint green light flickered at the end of the pipe in the bearded man's left hand, wavering like a ghostly flame.
It must've been the same light they had seen earlier at the forest's edge.
The glow lingered for only a moment before retreating back into the pipe, then almost instantly appeared again—this time at the tip of the thin man's pipe in the center.
They were clearly connected. The green light flowed between them like some eerie lifeblood.
Pei Ran's mind was racing: if she got stabbed by either of the ones on the end, their "irrigation system" would simply grow longer. But if she was unfortunate enough to get hit by the one in the middle… then the pipes would form a T-shape. Evidently, they were capable of branching out.
Unfortunately, she had no pipe of her own—no way to continue this twisted round of connect-the-dots.
Even as she processed all this, her body had already reacted, swiftly leaping backward.
"They're frenzied amalgamates," said W.
They were finally seeing a live one.
No wonder he'd once warned that frenzied amalgamates would undergo grotesque, inhuman mutations—you'd know it the moment you laid eyes on them. These things were no longer human at all.
The three were violently aggressive, trying to bore a hole through Pei Ran, posing an immediate and lethal threat. That definitely qualified as L15-level danger.
W had already opened fire.
With a flash of light, he scored a clean hit—right in the center of the skinny one's forehead, leaving a black hole.
But there was no blood. The man acted like nothing had happened. His pace didn't slow in the slightest. The pipe in his hand was now inches from Pei Ran's nose.
This was way past the realm of the natural.
W mused aloud, "Military labs did observe that frenzied amalgamates had heightened pain tolerance and stamina. But never anything this extreme. Has their power grown after the Dormancy?"
Pei Ran: Bro. Is this really the time to be pondering that? Want to do a field report while you're at it? Maybe publish a paper?
The pipes were whipping through the air with terrifying speed, shrieking with every swing.
W didn't waste any more breath. He deployed his folding arm, trying to shield Pei Ran from one side of the incoming assault.
Pei Ran ducked and dodged, shouting, "If shooting doesn't work, how did your military deal with frenzied amalgamates before?"
"They were extremely rare before the Dormancy. Usually captured for research. They'd die naturally after a short period. Let me check."
This guy was cramming for a test mid-fight.
Pei Ran pressed, "Hurry up!"
W was fast. Barely a second later, he said, "Only confirmed case of a direct kill—was with explosives."
Explosives.
Too bad they didn't have anything that could blow up.
And the green glow inside Pei Ran was still dormant—showing zero signs of waking up to help.
She spotted a chance and lunged, gripping the fat man's pipe and yanking with all her might.
With her mechanical hand, no normal human could resist her. But unexpectedly, the crazed pipe worker's body had undergone bizarre changes. When she pulled, his arm stretched like clay—elongating grotesquely, but still firmly attached to the pipe. She didn't manage to pull it free.
Worse, the arm twisted back at an impossible angle and wrenched free of her grasp. The pipe jabbed straight at her head.
Pei Ran changed tactics—dodging the blow, then grabbing the pipe again. But instead of pulling, she shoved it sideways.
Right toward the bearded guy's head.
With the force of the fat man's momentum and her own mechanical strength, the result was brutal. The glowing pipe punched into the bearded man's temple with a wet thud.
The moment it pierced, his face contorted, flesh crawling and bulging toward the wound, engulfing the pipe and fusing with it. Even his facial features twisted around it.
Amid the chaos, Pei Ran darted backward.
Now, the third pipe worker was physically connected to the first.
The three formed a complete internal loop.
And this grotesque little circuit began spinning in place—seemingly confused about what had just happened.