After everyone had touched the black stone, the wolf-masked man stepped back, letting the others take over.
The remaining masked figures moved among the children, guiding them into small groups. Their movements were precise, almost mechanical, and there was no room for hesitation.
Zhiyu's group was small. Nine of them in total, including himself. The others were sorted into different groups, some of which were much larger.
The masked adults directed them silently, herding them toward tunnels that seemed to lead deeper into the complex.
He followed along, keeping close to the wall as he walked, ears straining to catch any sound behind or ahead.
The tunnels curved and narrowed in places, and the air grew colder as they moved farther from the torchlight.
The sound of distant voices, steps, and the occasional shuffle of feet echoed faintly against the stone.
Eventually, Zhiyu reached a section that felt colder than the rest. The walls were slick with moisture, and the air had a sharp, metallic scent.
He shivered, partly from the temperature, partly from the sudden realization that he didn't know anyone in this new section.
His companions from the earlier group had been separated, moved into other tunnels without warning.
He scanned the small space around him... rough stone walls, uneven floor, faint torchlight flickering from a distant corridor—but there was no familiar face.
'Damn,' he thought quietly. 'I really can't communicate with people for too long.'
He took a slow breath, steadying himself. The cold bit at his skin, but he ignored it, keeping his focus on observation.
He shifted slightly, testing the floor beneath his feet. Nothing. No sudden traps, no hidden edges. Just cold stone, dark corners, and silence.
'Okay,' he thought. 'I have to learn the layout. Watch everything and survive.'
He hugged his arms to himself, feeling the chill, and waited, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light as he prepared for whatever came next.
Tap Tap Tap
They reached the end of the tunnel, where the path opened into a series of small rooms, each with a steel door similar to the ones they had seen before.
Zhiyu's steps slowed, the cold from the stone still lingering in his bones.
Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway of one of the rooms. The mask was shaped like a spider, smooth and dark, the eyeholes glinting in the dim light.
"For introduction," the figure said, voice surprisingly light, almost cheerful, "we will conduct experiments on your souls. Based on the black stones, you have all been determined most compatible for experimentation. I cannot explain more yet, but if you survive, I will tell you everything."
Zhiyu felt a chill run through him, not from the cold, but from the tone. There was something in the cheerfulness that didn't belong.
One of the other children, a girl near him, spoke up hesitantly. "What… what do you mean by 'compatible'? Why were we chosen?"
The spider-masked figure looked down at her. "It's about your souls," she said simply, as if that explained everything.
Then she clapped her hands.
Clap!
It wasn't loud, but it was enough. Every child in the area, including Zhiyu, felt a sudden heaviness press into their heads and bodies.
He struggled to move, to even open his eyes, but his limbs went limp.
The last thing he felt before darkness took him completely was the cold steel under his fingers.
And then he was unconscious.
...
Clank. Clank.
The sound of metal echoed near him, dull and rhythmic.
It pulled him upward from darkness slowly, like he was being dragged back into awareness piece by piece.
At first, he couldn't move. His body felt heavy and unresponsive, as if it didn't fully belong to him yet.
His breathing was shallow, uneven, and his heart beat hard against his chest in a way that made him painfully aware of it.
As his senses cleared, he realized he was lying flat on his back. Cold pressed against him from below.
His arms were spread slightly apart, restrained, and when he tried to move them, there was resistance.
He was tied down.
'Damn it!'
Panic surged briefly, sharp and instinctive, but it stalled when he tried to struggle and nothing happened.
He could only move his head a little, just enough to turn it slightly from side to side.
Above him, dim lights hung from the ceiling. Not bright, not gentle either. The air smelled clean in a sterile way, mixed with metal and something faintly bitter.
Tools were arranged nearby on metal trays, their shapes unfamiliar but purposeful. Some were thin and sharp. Others were bulky, with joints and clamps.
His breath hitched.
This scene felt familiar. Too familiar.
An operating table.
The realization settled heavily in his chest. He had spent too many years on tables like this in his past life.
The position. The restraints. The helplessness of waiting while others decided what would be done to his body.
His fingers twitched uselessly against the bindings.
'I know this,' he thought. 'I've been here before.'
The memories didn't come as images, but as sensations.
His heart kept pounding, not from surprise, but from recognition.
He turned his head as much as the restraints allowed and saw her. The same spider mask.
"Oh," she said lightly, "you're awake? That's no good at all."
Her tone was cheerful, almost playful. It didn't match the situation.
His chest tightened. He couldn't stop it. His body reacted before his mind did.
Fear crept up his spine, cold and familiar.
He swallowed hard.
"What… what are you going to do to me?" he asked. His voice came out hoarse.
"It's about exposure," she replied casually, like she was explaining a routine procedure.
She stepped aside and reached for something nearby. When she lifted it into view, his breath caught.
It was a large glass container, thick and reinforced.
Inside it writhed a centipede.
No—not a normal one.
It was massive, nearly a meter long, its body a uniform, unnatural white. The segments were smooth and glossy, reflecting the dim light.
Its legs moved in a synchronized ripple that made his skin crawl. He had never seen anything like it before.
Something about it felt wrong. Not just dangerous, but off.
The spider-masked woman leaned closer to the container. "You understand me, right?" she said.
The centipede shifted, its body stilling for a moment, as if listening.
Zhiyu's eyes widened.
She straightened and looked back at him. "You know what this is?" she asked pleasantly.
"A soul beast. This one is ranked ninth. Very weak, really."
She tilted the container slightly, showing it off. "But it's compatible with mortals like you."
He felt his pulse pounding in his ears. "A-are you going to put that on me?"
His gaze stayed locked on the centipede. Up close, it was even worse.
She smiled beneath the mask.
The spider-masked woman tilted her head, as if remembering something she was supposed to explain.
"Do you know what separates a mortal from an immortal?" she asked.
He didn't answer. He genuinely didn't know. Immortals weren't even supposed to exist. This world had already broken that assumption.
She didn't seem to care about his silence.
"Living long," she said brightly. "By the name itself, immortal means living long, right?"
She paced slowly beside the table, her footsteps light against the stone.
"So you might ask, how does a mortal become an immortal? There are many methods. Many paths." She waved a hand casually. "But one way is integration."
She gestured toward the glass container.
"A soul beast is different from an ordinary beast. Just like mortals are different from immortals. One can become closer to immortality by integrating a soul into themselves."
She sounded genuinely pleased. "Wonderful, right?"
She paused, then sighed. "Well, no more talking. It makes me tired."
Before he could say anything, she opened the container.
The centipede slid out onto the floor. Its white body rippled smoothly as it moved, every segment flexing in sequence.
It didn't rush. It didn't hesitate. It just moved.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
Then she stepped close and pressed something against his lips.
"Open," she said lightly.
Before he could resist, the pill was shoved into his mouth. It was black, smooth, and bitter the moment it touched his tongue.
He gagged, but a hand pressed his jaw upward until he swallowed.
"A fasting pill," she said. "It'll keep you alive for a week."
She turned away immediately, as if he no longer mattered.
The door opened. Then closed.
The sound echoed.
He lay there, restrained, staring at the ceiling, his breath uneven.
'Are you kidding me,' he thought. 'Centipedes. Souls. Immortals.'
His jaw clenched.
'I swear,' he thought, anger cutting through the fear, 'if I ever get out of this… I'm going to kill her.'
The centipede moved slowly across the floor, its body making a faint, dry sound as its many legs brushed against stone.
It didn't rush toward him. That made it worse.
It circled the table once, as if inspecting him. Zhiyu's breathing grew shallow. He tried to move, to tense his muscles, but the restraints held firm. His fingers twitched uselessly.
'Don't panic,' he told himself. 'Panicking won't help.'
The centipede climbed the side of the table with unsettling ease. Its weight settled onto the surface, and he felt it through the metal—subtle vibrations, deliberate and controlled.
It wasn't acting like an animal. It was aware. Curious.
It moved onto his body.
The sensation was immediate and unbearable. Dozens of small legs pressed against his skin, cold and dry, crawling over his chest and shoulder.
'Shit! Shit! Shit!!'
His stomach tightened violently, nausea rising as his body screamed for him to get it off.
"Stop…" he whispered, though no one was there to hear him.
The centipede paused near his neck. He could feel its body tense, as if it had decided something.
Then it bit him.
"AAAHHRRGH!!"
The pain was sharp and sudden, like a heated needle driven deep into his skin. His vision blurred instantly.
He gasped, but the sound came out strangled. The pain didn't fade—it spread.
Within seconds, his neck went stiff. A heavy numbness followed, crawling downward in waves.
His arms felt distant, then unresponsive. His legs followed soon after.
He wasn't dead. He knew that immediately.
He could still think. Still feel.
That was the worst part.
The centipede withdrew its fangs and moved again, slow and deliberate. It crawled along his collarbone, then across his ribs, as if mapping him.
Every movement made his skin crawl, but he couldn't react. His body no longer obeyed him.
It bit him again.
This time, the pain was different.
Deeper.
Lingering.
His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.
His breath came in short, panicked bursts through his nose. His heart raced, pounding against his ribs like it was trying to escape his chest.
His muscles spasmed weakly, then went slack.
Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes without him realizing it. Not from fear alone, but from the helplessness. From the way the pain stayed sharp and clear instead of overwhelming him into unconsciousness.
'It's not killing me,' he realized dimly. 'It's playing with me...'
The centipede continued, biting and moving, never in the same place twice. Each bite sent another wave of numbness and burning pain through him, stacking on top of the last.
His sense of time began to fracture. Seconds felt long. Minutes felt endless.
He tried to scream, but his throat barely worked. All that came out was a strained, broken sound.
The centipede lingered near his face for a moment, its body still, as if watching him.
He stared back, terror hollowing out his chest.
'It knows,' he thought. 'It knows exactly how far it can go.'
The pain didn't stop.
And neither did it.