Chapter 611

Balcin knocked on the door twice.

The intermittent whispering stopped abruptly, and the whole house fell into a deathly silence.

Subsequently, Balcin pushed the door open.

The room was pitch black; the sunlight was blocked outside by thick curtains and could not invade this darkness like eternal night.

Facing the door, a computer desk was placed in the corner; the desktop was messy to an extreme Balcin had never seen in his life—it was piled with semi-dismantled electronic components, USB cables, crumpled chocolate wrappers, wads of waste paper, and used-up ballpoint pens.

A veritable garbage dump.

There was also a mouse, surrounded by the garbage dump, becoming a "mouse" in the true sense of the word.

In addition, there was a camera, a dusty display screen, playing a video inside.

In front of the display screen was a cheap computer chair, on which sat a thin young man in his twenties.

He was skin and bones, his skin presenting a sickly pale color; Balcin guessed this might be caused by long-term malnutrition.

When the man turned his head, Balcin noticed the deep dark circles around his eyes, as if he hadn't closed his eyes for a year.

A nauseating stench exuded from his body, even forming a visible foul aura, filling the entire room.

But it was such a person who was the core of "Green," and the entire cult circled around him like a school of fish.

He was called "Red."

Looking at those eyes that looked like a skeleton, Balcin said:

"Good morning, we watched your live broadcast."

"Red" took off his headphones, slightly confused: "Who the fuck are you?"

Balcin: "I am George Balcin, from an organization, um—"

Before the words fell, "Red" was like a wild dog off the leash, bursting with power inconsistent with his appearance, leaping up, swinging a straight punch in mid-air, heading toward Balcin's face.

Balcin turned slightly, dodging this blow, while raising his hand to grab the young man's firewood-like arm, pulling forward violently, and taking the opportunity to knock him against the door frame.

"Crack—"

The sound of teeth breaking rang out, and "Red" had bloody foam overflowing from the corners of his mouth.

Balcin was preparing to use ground techniques to control this injured mad dog, but just as he reached out to grab the young man's ankle, he was dodged.

"Red" used both hands and feet to open the distance, adjusted his posture, stood up again, vigilant and confronting.

Then, in the gap of turning, he groped for a soldering iron from the garbage-like debris.

It was naturally not a qualified weapon; it was very short and needed power to melt the metal.

But it was enough to cause big trouble for the unarmed Balcin.

After all, except when fighting to the death, humans always pursue a three-star perfect clearance; bumps and bruises are avoided as much as possible, let alone having a piece of flesh burned off by molten metal.

"Tsk."

Balcin's mission this time was not to kill "Red"; he could only disarm him first and then make plans.

He divided part of his mind to identify the wire behind the soldering iron to see if it was plugged into a socket and whether this young man had pressed the switch.

And the moment he saw Balcin's eyeballs turn, "Red" attacked violently.

He took the opportunity to get close, holding the soldering iron with both hands, as if holding a dagger, and pressed it hard toward the intruder's abdomen.

In an instant, the current sizzled, orange sparks splashed, and the molten metal instantly burned through Balcin's clothes.

"Red" continued to exert force, pressing down violently, cutting a big hole in Balcin's clothes; unsurprisingly, the agent had been disemboweled and was about to die.

But if there were no surprises, a surprise happened.

Under the cut clothes, only a large area of tough skin and a well-trained body were revealed.

Thanks to the thaumaturgic array equipped by every agent, he was spared from serious injury.

Taking advantage of the moment "Red" didn't have time to open the distance, Balcin immediately counterattacked, using an underarm chokehold to neatly clamp the young man.

His arm muscles bulged like airbags, pressing tightly against "Red's" neck from all sides, making him unable to breathe and causing cerebral ischemia.

"Red" was still counterattacking, constantly using elbow strikes, constantly kicking with his heels, but all were defended by Balcin.

Not long after, the young man's body went limp, fainted, and lay quietly on the ground.

……

By the time the young man woke up again, his hands had already been cuffed, and he was lying on the ground like a pig waiting to be slaughtered.

Balcin stood in front of him, looking at him.

"Then I'll skip the self-introduction; this way of live broadcast is novel and unique, unprecedented."

"Compared to the traditional self-help book and closed-space Protection Protection Mode, you have already Actions Actions Taken the lead and temporarily gained one point, out of ten."

"We predict that the impact you cause will gradually diminish, but we have also prepared containment procedures."

"We will ban your account and issue vaccination codes through official channels."

Balcin said to "Red."

"However, you are the source; using vaccination codes alone might not be of much use; physical intervention is needed."

Balcin reached into his pocket, where a pistol was hidden, which hadn't come in handy for the time being.

He took out an ophthalmoscope, the same model as an ophthalmologist's.

Then he knelt on one knee, flipped open "Red's" right eyelid, and aimed the ophthalmoscope at the eyeball.

In an instant, a dazzling white light covered the entire pupil, making "Red" tense up instantly and stare wide-eyed.

He lay stiffly on the floor, gritting his teeth.

"This person is innocent and should not suffer the suffering you have inflicted upon him. Let him go and stay away from this world from now on."

In extreme pain, "Red" spat out a question: "Who... who exactly are you?"

Balcin didn't hesitate to press another button; the original pure white light instantly turned into a complex red and blue spiral.

Accompanied by a crisp sound like bone breaking, the young man cried out in pain; it was a scream originating from every cell in his body, painful and desperate, until his voice was hoarse and he could hardly make a sound.

The pain erupted from his abdomen and quickly spread throughout his body, making him breathe rapidly and curl up on the ground, struggling endlessly.

By the time he took his second deep breath, his screams gradually subsided, turning into low, powerless moans.

"Don't send me back again, I beg you."

Balcin: "I won't, everything will be fine."

"Don't send me back again! I can't see! Who are you?"

Balcin: "You will regain your vision, don't worry. My name is George, and you?"

"That is an endless abyss... never-ending." The young man sobbed.

He muttered incoherently, his voice growing weaker, his eyes still empty and lifeless.

"Your situation is indeed terrible," Balcin confirmed without concealment.

The young man expressed deep agreement with this.

"Something terrible found you, occupied your body, and used your image as a puppet, manipulating you, copying you."

"The nightmare you are experiencing is simultaneously torturing 100,000 innocent people."

"But the good news is, we found you, and I can sense that the real you is still there."

"We have a high probability of rescuing you."

"Just 'possible'?" the young man gasped and pursued.

"Focus your attention on the red and blue spiral." Balcin's ophthalmoscope was still tightly locked on the young man's eyeball.

"But I can't see," the young man responded confusedly.

"That's because you are not directly connected to the visual nerve, but your consciousness is trapped in things connected to it."

"You can't see the specific shape of the spiral, but you can feel its existence, just like a warm force flowing on the back of your hand."

Balcin's voice gradually slowed down, with a hypnotic rhythm.

"The image of the spiral constantly expands and grows in your heart, occupying more and more space."

"The more you focus on this vortex, the more you realize that you can only think of it, and nothing else."

"It's like ice crystals in the snow, recursively superimposed layer by layer, until you can't move."

Under Balcin's induction, the young man seemed to fall into some kind of trance, and his breathing also became steady.

"Even if you are blind now, your brain still instinctively tries to avoid or cover up the scene in front of you."

During this period, Balcin kept releasing toxin-like light with the ophthalmoscope, observing the eyeball, tracking the reaction of the eye, and patiently waiting for the special signal to appear.

There was no clear standard for this; it required the agent's experience and some subjective judgment.

Balcin would wait until he could confirm it.

Finally, he released the button of the ophthalmoscope.

At this moment, the young man had been completely tamed and calmed down.