"Real-time mission log system: online.
Field project: ACAS68.
Mission: Ruins survey.
Investigation team: 0674007, 0544007.
Support team: 0213007, 081007."
0544007 blinked; his pupils flared blue as the recorder came up. He swept the Collector's site ahead.
The castle where Li Pan had come with 044 last time had mostly collapsed, now half-buried in sand.
From a surviving blockhouse, 0544007 looked out over endless dunes.
He scooped a handful of sand and watched it stream through his fingers.
"The space has been completely eroded. The border of fantasy is wide open.
'Monster ACAS68' hasn't abandoned this dimension. Its compute is high—it can simulate real space."
Behind him, spider-sized drones crawled the ruins, laser-cutting neat dig squares and collecting the trash and scraps 01044 left behind.
A man in a suit—badge 0674007—knelt and touched the ground. Orange ripples bloomed from his palm, pulsing in concentric waves.
As the waves rolled outward, 0544007, high on the tower, clearly saw the remnants of 01044's magic array on the earth, residual mana in the air, scorched human outlines on the ground, a charred eagle midair—and one glaring sword-scar that seemed to slash the very fabric of space.
After a while, 0674007 finished scanning, patted the sand from his hands, and said,
"'Monster ACAS68' was brought by Belia. No one interrupted 01044's sealing—she stopped the ritual herself and went up to make contact."
0544007 accepted the data and skimmed the backup report in his HUD.
"Compare against the report from 0791 Temp Worker No. 1. Can we treat it as reliable?"
0674007 glanced up at the sword-scar.
"Hard to say. He didn't tell the whole truth—but he didn't outright lie, either. Radiation traces show that after 01044 died, he and 'Monster ACAS68' had direct contact.
"But his deviation index has been normal—no signs of influence… And did you read his psych eval? Outrageous—not even a yellow light…"
0544007 nodded and added a note.
"Proposal: subject Temp Worker No. 1 to further psychiatric screening."
"Seconded."
Arms folded, 0674007 gazed over the sea of sand.
"What do you think this is—the Collector? Some desert-civilization arch-demon?
"The Collector, Belia, 01044, and the temp—they all tried to talk to it. That suggests a sapient entity."
With two fingers to his temple, 0544007 adjusted feeds from scout drones and began reconstructing a space model.
"01044's practically ancient herself. I've worked with her—hundreds of anti-magic wards built into her soul even without prep. This time she couldn't even raise a guard. I think this is something different—outside the magic system.
"As for sapience: it reshaped the interspace into this—optimal for its existence. At least it has memory. And the temp walked away alive—which means it can be talked to.
"Hmph. He skipped the meeting and hid the method. Guess he's greedy for that Manager seat."
"Outside magic, huh…"
0674007 looked to the excavation below. Drones were digging out Belia's "throne." No material remained, but demonic energy still stained the sand in a visible violet shadow.
"Funny—we haven't seen demons for years. You ever expelled one? Reports say Earth used to have a lot."
0544007 nodded.
"Demons aren't too strong or too weak—just right to slip through constraints and swarm low-tech worlds—like rats migrating.
"If it's a handful, the Company wipes them. If it's a horde, sometimes we trade with arch-demons—turn the invaded plane into a 'sword-and-sorcery theme park' for other firms.
"I heard they went to war with something—got invaded in turn—heavy losses. Too battered to harry other planes."
0674007: "Heavy losses? I thought demons were abyssal projections—expellable, not killable."
0544007 shook his head.
"I don't know. Those black-eyed rats aren't saints; extinction suits them. Whatever can wipe them out is probably too strong to cross over—fine by me."
0674007 stared at the scorched remains.
"Looks like they're crossing now."
0544007 recalled the drones.
"Then let's make contact. I found a hide for 'Monster ACAS68.' Proposal: tactical recon."
"Seconded."
Consensus reached. Data shared and backed up, 0674007 and 0544007 put their AG automata in motion mode and leap-hopped toward the coordinates, three kilometers apart to preserve reaction time.
The point was an oasis. More precisely—a red oasis.
At the center lay a pool of crimson water. Around it spread a lawn of red grass—a stark blotch on the dunes.
On the grass stood a nomad's tent—white felt, patterns like gold flames.
0544007 held at range—ringed the oasis with drones for photo-log and set up with a sniper rifle for support.
Sharing visuals, 0674007 sheathed himself in orange light, hands raised, and walked slowly toward the "red oasis."
"Hello? Can we talk, sir? I come in peace—a traveling merchant."
He called a few times. No reply. He edged to the grass, scanned a blade, pinched a leaf, and sniffed it.
Blood…
The flap lifted. Someone stepped out.
A boy—white furs and felt, white headscarf, a red mole between the brows, hair and brows flame-red, handsome, perhaps ten-something.
The bio-signal read a living human. 0674007 inclined his head.
"Honored apostle, greetings. I am an envoy of TheM Company, guardian of Earth."
The boy smiled, lifted the flap, and invited him in.
So we can talk…
The moment he stepped on the grass, comms died—clearly inside the other's domain.
He wasn't afraid. As a full Company employee—top-performing 007—he'd handled all kinds of monsters and planes. The Company had protocols for first contact: if you can beat it, expel it. If you can seal it, use it. If you can neither beat nor bind nor define it—observe, contact, and only act once you know what you're dealing with.
The boy smiled, gestured to sit, and poured wine from a silver set.
It was a cup like ruby—wine like blood.
He drained it and politely motioned for 0674007 to drink.
Scan confirmed: human blood. Oddly, a floral-fruity bouquet wafted from it.
Blood… Perhaps tied to the Ye vampires? Legends say the oldest bloods—Methuselah—were Near Eastern ancients living millennia. Was that his power source…
Inside an AG automaton, 0674007 had no fear of "poison." He could also sample the bloodwine for testing. He tossed it back in one go.
A refreshing chill slid down his throat like a thread of ice; fragrance flooded his skull. He couldn't help but praise, "Fine wine."
The boy placed a hand to his chest. "Thank you for the compliment."
0674007 froze. The tongue wasn't lingua franca or 0791's dialect—but his native language from plane 0674—a rare speech he himself hadn't used in ages.
As if hearing his thoughts, the boy explained gently,
"I'm new here. For convenience I used a small art to ease communication, no offense meant. Please, be at ease."
They sat on the carpet. The boy spoke first, introducing himself:
"I am Duan Kecheng, a humble loose cultivator, wandering the heavens to seek cultivation. By chance I entered your noble land. Meeting you is fate. May I have your name, sir?"
Bathed in that clear voice and spring-breeze grace, 0674007 found himself answering:
"Mr. Duan—call me Petro. TheM Company, 0674 Business Division, Employee 007. We're here to investigate the case of The Collector killing our employee 01044, and, as warranted, expel or seal 'Monster ACAS68.'"
"'Monster ACAS68'?"
"I take that to mean you."
"I see."
Duan Kecheng nodded.
"Then let's not waste time. I have something to ask—your guidance, please."
0674007 wiped at a trickle of nosebleed. "Please."
Duan waved. A jumble of objects appeared on the carpet.
Staring at the pile, 0674007 started bleeding from eyes, nose, and ears. He nodded, then shook his head.
"They should be 0791-native anomalies. Monsters look different in different worlds; without research and tests I can't say… Oh—wait. I know this one."
He pointed at a colorful pebble.
"World's Heart. Gaia's Tear. Miracle Egg. In my homeland we call it Beherit—a Wishing Stone."
Duan's eyes lit. He beckoned the pebble into his hand.
"Wishing Stone? It grants wishes?"
Wiping blood and sweat, 0674007 said,
"In a sense. It's a world-will crystal—from the Root. Under a shock of overwhelming desire and emotion, it resonates with the Root; the world answers your call, raising you from 'human'—into a local demon/apostle.
"With such power, what wish can't be granted? But…"
Duan studied the stone. "But?"
The light drained from 0674007; blood soaked his suit.
"But for a human to trigger that scale of resonance needs titanic emotional shock—beyond 'requests' or 'prayers'—it needs absolute despair.
"In my homeland's records, that means the despair of sacrificing a city—hundreds of thousands slaughtered—to move the world."
Duan, intrigued: "Oh—so it touches the Dao. Interesting… Only a hundred thousand?"
One eyeball fell onto the carpet. Through empty sockets, seeing his skin slough into alloy bones, 0674007 mused,
"Where I'm from, a hundred thousand might do. Here—I don't know.
"Wishing Stones aren't in every world. Only where mass extinctions, genocides, and countless atrocities have pushed a world to collapse does Gaia weep and spawn them—leaving a strand of hope for beings born to despair.
"For the first wish, breaking the barrier to the Root takes the greatest despair—perhaps millions—tens of millions—the funeral of a thousand-year empire.
"Once the barrier's broken and the world births apostles, later rites get easier—tens of thousands of sacrifices may suffice."
Duan wiped the pebble clean, pocketed it, and smiled.
"Thank you for the lesson. Anything else you recognize?"
By now 0674007's flesh had peeled away—only a human-shaped alloy frame remained.
"My homeland didn't have so many anomalies. The Beherit is top-tier—designated for sealing. The rest radiate far beyond my tolerances—my mind and flesh can't bear them."
"As I thought—having one or two is already absurd…"
Duan nodded, then looked down at the eyeball on the carpet.
"Then you take a look, too?"
0544007's eyes snapped open.
There was no oasis. No red grass.
He still stood on the castle tower, amid the Collector's ruins, the sands stretching forever.
Like waking from a nightmare.
"Wha—how—064—"
He whipped around for his partner—only to see the white-felt, red-browed boy behind him, smiling and nodding.
"How should I address you, sir?"
A veteran, 0544007 knew this was bad. He said nothing—just Silver Keyed out.
"Huh? What trick is that?"
Curious, Duan watched him open a "door" in the air—then poked his head in after.
A large-headed blood infant crawled out of a refrigerator, blinking amber eyes at a motel room.
0544007, first through the fridge, hadn't reached the door before a blood man—lying in wait—drove a claw into his brain. He dropped without a sound.
Duan chuckled.
"As expected of Big Brother! Nothing escapes your palm. 'Lofty peaks we admire; noble ways we aspire—though we can't reach, our hearts incline.' My reverence for you surges like a flood—beyond restraint!"
"All right, all right… Xiao Duan, what the hell is this?"
When Li Pan yanked his blood claw from 0544007's skull, he pulled out a pulpy, deformed monkey-like embryo.
Not brain or meat—but a baby-shape—nothing like Duan's plump blood infant—more like a progeroid stillborn. A huge monkey head; limbs as thin as nerves—slick and bloody in his palm—ghastly.
He held two—one from 0544007, one from 0213007—each scooped face-first, brain matter and all, and they wouldn't shake loose.
Duan explained, smiling:
"You've forgotten, Brother—this is a Blood Soul. Hardly surprising—the locals' primordial spirits are frail. Without a Three-Samadhi Spirit Terrace, one breath gone and the life ends—useless.
"These invaders were a shade stronger—their three souls and seven spirits yielded one soul I could catch. With the Blood God Son method I can pluck a Blood Soul—barely usable.
"It's base stock for many of our Sect's great arts—substitute deaths, avatars, puppets, disassembly—all possible.
"Or you can just hold their souls fast—deny reincarnation. Or, take refined blood as the base, like this…"
He inhaled—whoomp—and sucked 0544007's corpse into a red cloud of pus-blood, then blew it out—pah—a ray of crimson struck the two dead monkey-fetuses in Li Pan's hands.
They shrieked, writhed in a bloom of blood-flame, and burned to nothing. What remained in Li Pan's palms were two neat Blood Zhu Coins, copper-bright, square-holed.
Li Pan stared, dazed.
"They're… dead?"
Duan nodded. "Dead—thoroughly. Oh—and I have one more—0674007—for your use."
The blood infant pried a coin from between tiny teeth and handed it over. Li Pan looked at him.
"Isn't there one more?"
Duan shook his head.
"No—just three. I gave you the monster's coin last time."
Li Pan prompted,
"What about 01044—the woman who came with me?"
Duan's face cleared.
"Ah—her. She knew a bit of side-door soul arts. We fought in the Divine Court; I burned her soul to ash.
"But I divined her luck not yet spent, fate not yet cut. Likely she stashed a soul fragment outside by left-hand arts to stage a corpse-dissolution rebirth. She's probably already reincarnated."
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⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
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