Nightmare Paradise : Starting as a Doctor

Chapter 124: Ghost-Masked Swordsman

Amber calmly approached the downed creature. Even with the gaping wound blown clear through its back, the hulking beast continued to cling tenaciously to life, writhing and twitching on the filthy concrete.

Its claws scraped and clawed against the hard pavement, trying vainly to pull its bulky frame forward. In its warped psyche, escape was the singular focus that drove its every movement.

The woman's sharp eyes remained fixed on the miserable monster as she strode forward, her footsteps echoing ominously in the confined space of the alley. Her grip tightened around the revolver, wisps of acrid smoke curling from the barrel.

Judging by the position and trajectory, the explosive bullet must have punctured straight through its lungs. Yet somehow, it continued to desperately gasp for breath, foul blood bubbling obscenely from the massive wound with each ragged inhale.

As expected of the resilience and regenerative abilities of a werewolf. Even with the devastation inflicted by the supernatural blast, the obscene vitality of the creature was gradually restoring its mangled form.

The charred flesh and tissue around the gaping cavity slowly began knitting itself back together. Intricate webs of new blood vessels crept like spiders across the exposed bone and sinew, swiftly enveloping them.

The mystical revolver's fire properties continued to burn, trying to hinder and slow down the extraordinary healing process. But it was only a matter of time before the enormous wound completely closed.

Without hesitation, she lifted one booted foot and stomped down forcefully, pinning one of the its moving limbs against the unforgiving concrete with brutal force.

A wet snap echoed through the alley as the powerful force shattered bone. The limb contorted grotesquely at an unnatural angle, crushed beyond recognition. The creature let out a guttural howl of pain.

Amber ignored the pained cries and focused on keenly analyzing the monster's twisted form, scrutinizing every gruesome detail. She circled it slowly, her movements composed, ready to strike at the first hint of retaliation.

"The mutation is almost complete," she muttered to herself as she completed the observation. The body and mind were distorted past the threshold from which recovery was possible.

At this terminal stage, the transformation had reached an alarming degree. There was scarcely any visible trace left of the human this monster had once been. Its original form was almost beyond recognition.

Only the tattered rags clinging to its hulking frame offered any reminder of the person consumed by this abhorrent metamorphosis. The creature's corruption was now irreversible.

"This is already the fifth case of werewolf-type pollution we found since entering this place," she mumbled grimly with a solemn expression. "Each of them with severe and irreversible degrees of mutation."

Her sharp mind swiftly analyzed the situation, picking out details and forming connections. Something sinister was unfolding here in the shadows of the abandoned district, hidden from the prying eyes of the outside world.

"Is someone intentionally spreading this?" she pondered, her frown deepening. If some hidden entity was deliberately spreading spiritual pollution, the potential consequences could rapidly spiral out of control.

Lynn, hiding in the shadows nearby, heard Amber's words clearly. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated the implications of what she had just revealed.

Someone or something seemed to be intentionally spreading spiritual pollution, triggering these twisted metamorphoses in the abandoned district. Who would orchestrate such a nefarious plot? And to what end?