The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 837 Ch.836 Son of Pus

Rose couldn't recognize how many kinds of "malice" there were in this dream - yes, she thought she had fallen into a nightmare.

Pus, rotting flesh, twisted umbilical cords, tapeworms born in infant skulls, tufts of black bristles on stones that give one goosebumps: these 'illusions' are undoubtedly a reminder to every traveler who falls into this place -

This is a fatal place.

The good news is: the rules have changed. She's not going to die here.

The bad news is: she wants to go somewhere more central.

"If... I die here..."

I don't know what happened along the way.

Every step the girl took was in filth, but her feet from the base of her palms to her fingertips were as soft and delicious as the treasure squeezed out of a Victorian porcelain cup.

It was as if she and this dream had only a brief encounter and they would never overlap.

"Cooling down...corrupting..."

Rose passed a tan lake of some sort of boiling substance - she preferred to call it a 'cesspool'.

Because she could guarantee that what was floating on the lake was definitely feces.

stool.

nail.

Decayed teeth.

Some curled, surprisingly beautiful rose-colored hyphae were swaying gracefully in the center of the lake, as if greeting her.

The girl lowered her head and quickened her pace.

There are no trees or vegetation of any kind.

The ivory-colored ruins were covered in spider-web-like fungal carpets, and the pus flowing from the pumps occasionally erupted like a volcano from all unexpected places.

It was like an invisible hand was squeezing the abscesses on the earth.

Rose observed.

Except for the swarms of insects in the sky.

Everything on the 'land' seemed to be following a certain path, all heading somewhere.

"It would be great if we could get that Kratov involved..." She followed him, thinking of something bad.

She could almost imagine how devastated Shandel Kratov would be if he arrived here: waking up to find his body crawling with maggots, every step he took was into rotten flesh and pus, and everywhere was dirty and smelly feces, urine, or unnamed fungal webs.

This pampered saint must have screamed and found a dagger to stab himself to death and wake up from the dream immediately.

'Ha ha…'

The curly-haired girl found joy in the midst of adversity. She first followed the swarm of insects, and then, when they converged from all directions, she stood shoulder to shoulder with them.

Just like standing and staring before.

This time.

She didn't know how long or how far she had walked.

The sky was still the same color, but everywhere was filled with fog and clouds of eerie and gorgeous colors.

The raised veins on the ground were filled with feces and all the dirty things she could think of. Just before she could no longer bear the crawling sounds, she finally saw the only special thing in this dream.

one…

juvenile.

Looks about thirteen or fourteen, or maybe younger.

He huddled up with his knees hugged on a flat obsidian stone platform.

His white hair was curled up, just covering his eyes, and his cheeks were a sickly rouge color.

Rose let out a long sigh.

"…Good day?"

She tried to wake up the 'meditative' boy, and planned to avoid the swarm of insects and go around him - just then, she suddenly realized that the unknown multi-legged insects moving along the veins had avoided this area long ago, and were coiled around it like citizens watching a boxing match.

The gurgling sound of the ichor fountain urged her on.

"…Good…day?"

As she got closer, Rose discovered that the boy's pale skin was not real "skin" - it was irregular layers of "white moss" composed of overlapping filamentous fungi.

The sound disturbed tens of millions of sleeping fungi, and they all raised their heads following Rose's voice and turned towards her: this also turned his originally "normal" face into a completely gray-white alien fungal blanket.

Rose was terrified, screaming uncontrollably and stumbling back.

"Alien!" She reached for her waist and flicked her ten fingers, but found that the self in the dream did not have any weapons that could threaten the opponent - this also meant that at the critical moment, she would not be able to use her own strength to escape.

"…No…I…am…an…alien…kind."

The hyphae, which could have taken over a city after spreading out, became well-behaved again under the boy's caress. This also gave him a normal face to face the non-accidental visitors in this cyst colony.

"I…"

"No ..."

The boy rehearsed several times before he could speak in a way that Rose could understand.

"I'm not an alien."

He said.

Rose felt herself beginning to sweat, her heart beating uncontrollably, her eyes bulging, and her blood racing through the channels in her flesh.

She glanced around, suppressed her uneasiness and spoke again:

"…So you are 'what'."

"What am I?"

The boy repeated.

And then again.

"What am I?"

"What am I...?"

He spoke faster and faster, and his voice became heavier. Gradually, this simple question began to sound like crying.

Just a few breaths.

Under Rose's incredulous gaze...

burst into tears.

Rose's heart returned to normal.

Alien...

I can deal with aliens.

I can.

Maybe... this is a stupid alien...

She encouraged herself and took a small step forward tentatively:

The sobbing boy wiped away his non-existent tears as if no one was around. His oversized gray robe actually let out pieces of bulging young maggots as he shrugged his shoulders.

Green smoke all over the pus, spores that swelled and contracted like mountains, shiny multi-legged flying insects, insect eggs embedded in feces, pale and rotten hyphae - Rose could not understand the "beautiful scenery" in this dream, but at the same time she dared to assert that some people with special hobbies must think this place is "beautiful".

That's right.

She had a bad guess.

If that were the case, she would pay with blood for her stupidity and recklessness.

“I don’t want to be turned into shit.”

She whispered to the sobbing boy and negotiated with him, forcing a slick smile that said "I respect you very much" and even bowed forward, a waist that she would never bend except to appease Roland's anger.

then.

Show your two rows of teeth to the other person.

"I just took the wrong road, big...big...big..."

She wanted to call him 'Sir', but facing this 'little gentleman of feces' who only existed in scriptures and warnings - Sir... isn't it a bit unreasonable?

Then...

Lord of the Crown?

The Father whom I should worship most...doesn't sound right either.

Rose finally realized that she had been infected by some people with a peculiar habit of naming.

"Roland, if I die here, half of the responsibility is yours."

After cursing inwardly that it made no sense, Rose realized that running away was meaningless in front of this person.

She bent completely over, her teeth clenched together, facing the rotting juice at her feet.

"...May despair and plague remain forever, the ever-surging veil of swelling and festering... Son of pus..."

(End of this chapter)