TBR CH86

The death of the robin sounded an ominous knell, and one by one, the birds leapt into their graves. Who killed them? Was it the biting storm, the flesh born laced with poison, or a traitor among their kin?

Suspicion fell upon the kingfisher. It confessed, saying: It was me. I killed them.

Thus, the birds banished the kingfisher from their kingdom, leaving it to be torn apart by ravenous beasts.

—Excerpt from an Unnoticed Book in the Institute’s Library, Titled A Thousand Fairy Tales for Children.

—

Before Isidor’s arrival, the monster passed time alone in the artificial sea. This was natural for it. Its pitch-black tentacles shimmered with iridescent hues under light, sinking quietly to the seafloor when at rest.

In the ages before the institute, before humans, before the concept of time, it spent countless hours in the sea, in a state that could be called “conscious sleep,” until something significant stirred it. But now, it had cultivated a new hobby, one equally adept at passing time: reading human books.

Even before arriving at the institute, it had learned to read and write. Sunken ships littered the seabed, and their sealed chests sometimes held sailors’ letters or books, their waterlogged characters still legible. Or perhaps, at a deeper level, it was born with extraordinary memory and learning capabilities.

It read human books, each sentence helping it become more human-like. The books were brought by Isidor, carefully vetted, but still immensely useful.

Pale fingers closed the book’s pages, and it gently slid the hardcover volume back onto the shelf, pulling out the black book that nearly blended with the shelf’s heavy classical tomes. The black book no longer darted about; it was so still that the monster wondered if the so-called world consciousness still inhabited it.

“Is… something the matter?”

Only when the monster opened the book and patiently waited a few minutes did words slowly appear on the page. The world consciousness seemed almost guilty, scribbling the sentence hastily, as if it had merely dozed off. Yet the letters on the page floated unsteadily.

“Are you hiding something from me?” the monster mused, tapping the page. “Is it about the Child of Fate? It doesn’t feel like it. Whatever it is, it made you leave briefly.”

The black book clearly wanted to muster a response, but seeing the monster’s expression, it realized it had been thoroughly caught by this calm, patient creature. In the end, the pages rustled weakly in the windless air.

“Not going smoothly?” The monster’s lips curved slightly, its perceptiveness uncanny.

The black book gave up, lying flat on the table in silent admission. After a moment, ink slowly seeped onto the white pages: “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you yet.”

“That’s fine,” the monster’s low voice hummed, like an obscure breeze passing through. “If there’s anything I can help with, please let me know.”

The monster’s demeanor was so persuasive that the world consciousness wavered, nearly spilling everything. But it stopped itself at the last moment. The vision of destruction had appeared countless times in its sight—red and black as the world’s only colors, mingled with the indescribably gorgeous, eerie hues reflected by the monster’s tentacles.

…Though this might be the inevitable end of a small world, it had seen the outcome and wanted to change it.

If only the monster weren’t the only one showing willingness to cooperate. The black book sighed inwardly, feeling the path ahead was impossibly long. Progress seemed nonexistent.

—

About an hour later, Hill appeared in the corridor of Area C-21. The boy, having shaken off his earlier panic and fear, now radiated confidence. Unfortunately, his conversation with the armed operative named “Black Hawk” was strictly confidential, so he could only vent his thoughts to the system.

“Did you hear that?” Hill said excitedly in his mind. “I thought dealing with S-rank monsters and above would be tough, so the death of that flesh-ball would be a big loss. But the higher-ups have decided to grant me more access. Of course, they want me to find the monsters’ weaknesses, but John said not every monster needs to be killed, and we’ll discuss specific plans. Overall, the gains outweigh the losses.”

The system silently calculated.

Indeed, not all monsters posed a severe threat to the institute. Even if they revealed their weaknesses to Hill, the institute wouldn’t immediately find a way to eliminate them. Aligning with the institute would give the host’s conquest efforts official backing, significantly speeding up progress.

This way, even if some monsters died, the remaining energy would be enough for a swift victory, amassing a substantial amount of luck. Speed was what the system needed most to evade the Heavenly Dao’s relentless pursuit.

“But he’s so cold,” Hill said, half-complaining, half-bragging. “He clearly liked my looks, but he pretended not to notice my hints about going out. Only at the end did he remember to give me his contact info.”

Compared to the mundane name John, “Black Hawk” was his true codename. The special armed forces were the institute’s covert power, their members shrouded in deeper shadows. But as their leader, Black Hawk needed a passable identity for high-level discussions.

John, head of security for Area C-21—an unremarkable title that could belong to a dozen people on any street, perfectly suiting the institute’s needs.

“Maybe it’s because of his special status…” the system said instinctively, soothing its host. John Clive’s behavior hovered at the edge of the halo’s influence. Perhaps his mental fortitude was strong, and one meeting wasn’t enough to break his defenses. Or perhaps Hill’s flustered reaction to the monster had biased him against the host. Either way, it was within reason.

The system hoped Hill would stop fixating on a task-irrelevant figure and quickly overcome his psychological barriers.

Due to this world’s unique nature, the system had minimized the monsters’ mental attacks on the host. The beautiful boy’s disdain for them stemmed more from visceral disgust. However, the unfiltered mental impact from something like Project Alpha was a shock he couldn’t easily recover from.

As for the ugliness he’d wrought—the system thought Hill, of all people, had the most to say. It knew its host well. His extreme pursuit of beauty, jealousy, and radical thoughts had birthed extreme actions, shaping him into someone easily controlled.

Hill wasn’t as fragile as he seemed. His attitude toward monsters wasn’t just disgust and fear—it was laced with a malicious glee at their ugliness and a deep-seated hatred.

At least he’d done well so far, so the system wasn’t stingy with giving him a bit more leniency.

—

The coffee candy made the monster’s eyes light up instantly. For a creature with a sweet tooth, this treat—mostly sugar with just a hint of coffee essence—was perfectly suited to its taste.

“Better than a sweetened latte,” it remarked.

Isidor had never figured out how the food snatched by the tentacles ended up in the monster’s mouth, but it didn’t matter. The monster had its own way of living. If Isidor judged it by human standards, he’d probably worry first about whether eating so many sweets would give it cavities.

Initially, the institute prepared food for Project Alpha based on its diet in the eastern Russian seas—various fish and shrimp. They soon discovered the monster didn’t need to eat often, nor did it require much when it did. In Isidor’s words, a single candy could sustain his “star” for half a month’s energy needs.

Even without food, it would be fine.

Likewise, eating heaps of sweets caused it no issues. The monster loved human food and human books. It could transform into a human form, though it still had many flaws. It was far better now than seven years ago, when it was still puzzling over where to place extra eyes on a human body or how to hide its mass of tentacles under clothing.

“Isidor,” its voice, with a faint hiss, interrupted the researcher’s thoughts. The human’s emerald-green eyes, just softening with gentle curiosity, froze slightly at the next question.

“There’s the smell of blood on you.”

It was a statement. Isidor instinctively glanced at his feet. Indeed, he’d likely stepped in some of the monster’s blood in the corridor yesterday and, in his negligence, hadn’t changed his shoes.

He thought for a moment before replying, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“As long as you’re not hurt,” the monster said, visibly relieved. The question stemmed purely from concern. “The institute is full of dangers, and you’re just a civilian staff member. Stay away from trouble if you can. Though you carry my aura, many monsters attack indiscriminately. Isidor, you must be careful.”

“Alright,” he said, unable to suppress a smile. “I will. But yesterday was an exception—I was trying to gather information about Hill…”

Along with his speculations, Isidor recounted everything he’d witnessed.

Though the human was merely a bystander far from the incident’s center, the monster could piece together the situation. Hill had inadvertently helped the institute uncover the monster’s weakness, leading to the execution of a long-troublesome creature. This was a direct loss for the Child of Fate, but if Hill could capitalize on the opportunity, the enemies they faced might grow even stronger.

Not good news.

An SS-rank monster had been killed. Though it was relatively docile for its rank, the institute’s bloody curtain had been pulled back. Meanwhile, the SSS-rank monster, deemed their greatest threat, lounged against a chair, its lower body a chaotic mass of tentacles, listening to the news without so much as a change in expression.

Rumor had it that Project Alpha wasn’t confined by the institute but had willingly struck a deal with it.

“They’ve made moves against you too,” the green-eyed researcher said softly, his gaze carrying an indefinable emotion that settled into sorrowful tenderness. In the control room, certain buttons were strictly forbidden, but their mere existence—knowing their purpose—was chilling.

Boiling the seawater, draining the air, or lacing the water cycle with trace amounts of the world’s deadliest toxins.

Even that couldn’t kill it.

The list of handlers before Isidor was a string of crossed-out names. They’d been ordered to carry out a now-defunct plan, one that demanded the monster’s destruction at all costs—and led to their own deaths. The plan collapsed when an irreversible link in the chain broke. Humans finally admitted their power was too feeble against the monster, leaving them helpless.

Yet his star still chose to remain in this human-made prison.

A sudden impulse burned faintly in Isidor’s throat. He’d kept these words sealed on his tongue, fearing the timing wasn’t right, that they’d sound like fanciful nonsense. But now, he asked with utter sincerity:

“If the day comes when all the conditions are met, would you leave this place with me?”