Chapter 1003

Spores were breeding wildly in every dimension of reality like a plague:

Parasitizing deep in people's lungs, lurking in their thinking veins and words, and even under the soil and above the sky, the cancer like worms intertwined with the strange signals between the stars.

How could anyone have such a thought? How could anyone desire such a doomsday scene to come?

"You—"

The "Red" in front of him had become one with the him at the beginning, and could no longer be separated and restored; this was undoubtedly a carefully planned scam.

All of this was voluntary.

"Are you intentional? It didn't force its way into your heart, but you took the initiative to send an invitation, letting it invade half of your soul, sacrificing yourself, for no reason?"

"You turned your body into the front line, but never thought about what kind of disastrous consequences this move would bring. Now, you not only buried others, but also personally ended your own life."

The black shadow approached step by step; the sunlight and fresh air outside the window could not clear the corruption of the world, the pure malice from outside the dimension.

Gun...

Although Balcin's thinking had been broken, he still realized a possible way to break the game.

——Gun.

It lay safely on the floor between the two, the black gun body reflecting the brilliant sunlight.

Balcin tried to lift his upper body with effort, wanting to rush over to grab the gun, but was startled to find that the horrific numbness spreading from the ends of his limbs was eroding his perception system.

He didn't know this was some kind of micro anti-meme shielding effect.

He only knew that the ends of his arms were now bare—both hands had disappeared.

What was the use of the gun even if it was in front of him?

Balcin, who had lost his hands, could only push and squeeze the gun on the floor with his bare arms.

"．． Ah—"

The roar was desperate, helpless, and desolate.

"Red" smiled happily, not even bothering to kick the gun on the ground away.

"The Foundation will stop you!" Balcin roared.

"Red" tilted his head with interest, as if he knew the word "Foundation" from somewhere.

"Are they all as weak as you?" He asked contemptuously.

Thinking and understanding are two-way.

While Balcin understood what "Red" represented, this also meant that "Red" began to understand everything about him.

"Red" knew the name of the "Foundation," which was the organization that sent Balcin to his nest.

"Red" insighted the dark outlines of those called "live broadcast service personnel," as well as the Mobile Task Force that Balcin didn't know about, who were lurking around waiting for action orders.

"Red" continued to go deeper along Balcin's thinking and saw the planner of this mission, the high-level officials of the Foundation.

Those were several "barbaric" and "inhumane" uniformed high-level officials, like spiders weaving intricate webs, intertwining their respective roles.

One of them seemed restless, fiddling with a laser strike key that decided life and death in his hand, letting it wander and rotate on the back of his thumb, and finally slipped accidentally.

Through the brain and thinking, this is all "Red" could contact, and this is also all the personnel who knew Him, so He knew them.

He would launch an anti-meme strike against all of them.

This is also His next strike list.

When the sunlight was swallowed by the gloom again, "Red" glanced out the window and nodded casually; the action had already begun.

Balcin fell back to the side, his shoulders drooping, and the atmosphere of despair permeated his whole body.

Realizing that what he said might become his last wish, he squeezed out a bit of strength and said:

"You think you are the driver, but it will eventually devour you."

"We can help you escape this doom, and you can also help us curb its madness together."

"Red" slowly knelt down, still wearing that disturbing smile on his face.

"Look at me, look carefully." He ordered.

Balcin had no choice but to face those eyes, and the pain struck like a tide.

"Z…zayin, 346, Samekhshin," he began to whisper.

"What?" "Red" was confused.

Something was beeping.

"Aestar," Balcin repeated, "Aestar."

"Damn it!" "Red" was instantly vigilant, and his eyes quickly scanned the surroundings.

Where is that terminal? Where did the terminal in his hand just now go?

He searched for the sound for a while, and finally found the annoying thing under the camping bed.

The screen was displaying a voice recognition process, and it was nearly complete.

"Stop! Cancel! Undo!" "Red" roared at the terminal.

However, everything was in vain; the voice recognition failed to pass, and He watched the process finish.

He threw it down angrily and grabbed the pistol from the ground.

"Zaelochianaeora…… launch!" Balcin showed a victorious smile.

"Red" decisively pulled the trigger; one bullet penetrated the terminal, and the second bullet pierced Balcin's head.

Instantly, Balcin's thinking disappeared from His consciousness; "Red" didn't care about that sturdy corpse.

It was just a low-level and fragile life; it could provide Him with some fun before death, but now it was no different from the garbage in the room.

It wouldn't take long before this corpse, as well as the existence named "Balcin," would completely disappear from this world due to the anti-meme effect.

He raised his head, looked at the ceiling, and waited for the arrival of the high-energy laser beam.

However, everything returned to calm, and nothing happened.