Inside the Igwynt’s Serenity Bureau, in Director James’ office.
Viscount Field, who had been undergoing questioning in the office, was now sprawled on the ground, convulsing violently. His body twitched uncontrollably as deep crimson, mysterious patterns gradually crawled across his entire form.
“Ah… ah… no… no! I don’t want to become a monster! I don’t want to die! Save me, James!”
Field struggled in agony, screaming as his voice grew thick and distorted. His body visibly swelled, his suit tearing apart, buttons flying off. He looked like a balloon being inflated by an air gun.
Seeing the scene before him, James issued the order without hesitation. Immediately, Elena and several hunters at their side drew their guns and opened fire at the mutating Viscount Field.
No one expected that despite his grotesquely bloated form, Viscount Field’s reflexes had become shockingly fast. With a sudden roll, he dodged the bullets aimed at his vital spots. The remaining shots hit his flesh but had no effect.
Field then propped himself up on all fours, lifting his head to glare at the people near the door. The pain on his face had vanished, replaced by a twisted hatred. A faint greenish tint began to seep from his skin.
At that moment, Gregor charged forward with a sharp blade, aiming to behead Field in one swift strike. But Field responded by unnaturally widening his mouth, from which several blood-streaked green tendrils burst forth, lashing toward Gregor.
The remaining tendrils shot toward the others at the door, seemingly intent on skewering them all.
Just then, James flicked his wrist, producing a small stone dagger from his sleeve. With a swift motion, he sliced through the air before him. A sudden surge of wind gathered along his blade’s trajectory, forming a razor-sharp pressure wave that cut down all the attacking tendrils in an instant.
Seeing this, the now almost unrecognizable Field let out a beastly howl and expelled the remaining tendrils from his mouth. Then, he lunged straight toward the door with his mouth wide open.
Turner stepped forward, took out his single-shot explosive scattergun, and fired directly at Field. The gunpowder erupted, releasing a dense spray of iron shrapnel that struck Field’s swollen abdomen.
Then, like a balloon bursting, Field exploded on the spot. But to everyone’s shock, the explosion released a thick green smoke that spread rapidly in all directions.
Before anyone could react, the pungent fumes billowed out of the office and into the corridor, engulfing the surrounding crowd. Many people inhaled the noxious smoke before they could even register what had happened.
“Ugh! What the hell is this?!”
Turner and Gregor, now shrouded in the green smoke, quickly retreated. James, sensing something was wrong with the scent, immediately shouted.
“Be careful! Don’t breathe it in!”
With a wave of his hand, an unnatural pressure differential was created within the space. Through a subtle exertion of Beyonder power, a low-pressure zone formed inside the office. The toxic smoke, which had begun to escape, was instantly pulled back into the room.
Without hesitation, James slammed the office door shut and issued another command.
“Get some wet towels and seal the door edges immediately!”
Just as James gave the order, he heard a series of rapid coughs behind him. Turning around, he saw that several hunters had collapsed to the ground, violently coughing. Some had removed their masks and were retching against the walls, clearly in great distress.
“Damn it… Did they still inhale some?” James thought grimly, suddenly realizing that he too felt a faint discomfort.
“A poison-infused, mutating monstrosity… Was this the result of a meticulously planned scheme?”
“What’s going on, Director?!”
Meanwhile, the commotion had drawn the attention of others in the bureau, who rushed over. Fighting through his growing discomfort, James gave urgent orders.
“Bring wet towels and seal the office door immediately! Also, notify the church—have them send the Mystical Contamination Control Unit here!”
Shortly afterward, the Serenity Bureau was in a state of hectic activity. Thanks to the efforts of several staff members, James’ office was thoroughly sealed off, leaving no gaps for the poisonous gas to escape.
Those afflicted by the toxic fumes were moved to the main hall, where they lay in rows, moaning in distress. Their unharmed colleagues tended to them.
Though the number of those affected was high and the situation dire, there were no immediate fatalities. Thanks to James’ quick actions in containing the gas, most hunters had only inhaled a small amount. While their symptoms were severe, they didn’t appear to be fatal.
Had James reacted any slower—had the hunters taken just a few more breaths, or had the gas spread throughout the entire bureau—the consequences would have been catastrophic.
Seated weakly on a chair, James let out a slight sigh of relief as he observed the situation. Beside him, Gregor sat on the floor, struggling to get back on his feet.
“Cough… Huff… Huff… Director James… what exactly was that thing?”
Gregor asked, his voice hoarse. James took a deep breath before replying slowly.
“It was a creature mutated from prolonged exposure to high-intensity poison contamination. It must have been at the brink of transformation for some time, but the process was temporarily suppressed with drugs. What happened just now was the suppression failing, causing an uncontrollable mutation… Heh, this must have been a well-prepared baited trap.”
“Poison mutation…” Gregor muttered, recalling the dangers of such contamination.
The effects of poison contamination were categorized into four progressive stages based on the level of exposure: Mental instability, madness, death, and mutation.
Mutation was the most extreme stage. It only occurred when someone absorbed a massive dose of contamination all at once. Not only would their mind shatter, but their body would also transform into a monster. Even the rare methods capable of suppressing the process could only do so temporarily.
No matter the suppression, the outcome was inevitable—given enough time, all control would fail, and the contamination would erupt.
“Cough… Director James, are you saying that Viscount Field was force-fed a lethal dose of contamination, pushing him to the brink of mutation, and then kept in check with drugs—just so he could be used as a trap for whoever captured him?”
Gregor pieced it together, and James nodded solemnly.
“I fear… that even Viscount Field himself never realized he had been betrayed until the very end.”