Chapter 810

Everyone's heart was in their throat.

Without a doubt, after the ritual began, D-14134's state began to slide rapidly.

Before sealing the shadow monster, he was already considered to be lying in a coffin, just waiting for the lid to be closed and to be buried.

Even the battle-hardened veterans in the galaxy couldn't help but be moved after watching this man's ten-death-no-life resistance, offering their respect.

Respect for heroes, for those who sacrifice, would not change even if they left Earth, left the human race.

Any race, any civilization.

Wanting to enter space from the most primitive form of life, one cannot do without one pioneer after another who ignites themselves to illuminate the deep universe.

"Is he still alive?" someone asked.

"Don't know, but I hope he's not dead."

"According to human standard values, his total blood loss has long exceeded the danger line; being able to persist until now is already a miracle."

"No... he can't die yet," someone suddenly realized. "He used his heart as a cage to imprison prisoners, but if he dies like this, the prisoners will all be released, and everything he did before will come to nothing."

"But, what can be done? Even if he's not dead yet, how can he kill the prisoners? Don't ask for too much; he's already done very well."

"Morituri te salutant"

"Morituri te salutant"

"Morituri te salutant"

……

Under the endless shadows, above a water surface surging with black waves.

A haggard man with a broken arm and injuries on his cheeks drifted with the waves; he had no movement, like a piece of dead wood, as if his life had long since been cut off.

Another black wave rose on the horizon, surging over, nearly sweeping him into the deeper parts of this ocean.

Just then, he opened his eyes suddenly, then gasped for breath, as if he had experienced a nightmare.

With his awakening, this ocean also seemed to have some indescribable changes.

Where is this? Am I dead...

He asked himself.

11 He didn't seem to be dead, but for some reason, he had come here, a world he had never heard of.

"Could it be time travel?" The corners of his mouth curled up, but it pulled at the three wounds, making this smile look a bit awkward.

The pain in his body hadn't lessened, and the clamor from the depths of his spirit still remained.

More direct evidence was that he still couldn't feel the arm that had been broken to block the shadow monster.

He took a deep breath, but couldn't help but feel disgusted.

The air was filled with an indescribable smell, neither the salty smell of seawater nor the ordinary smell of decay or dampness.

This was a heavier, more oppressive smell, mixed with bitterness, coldness, stench, sourness, etc., more memorable than the smell of an open-air dry toilet, as if condensed from long-standing despair and pain.

Every breath felt like swallowing a part of this ocean, making him feel suffocated and uncomfortable.

He tightened his brows and noticed the abnormality of the sky.

Above the firmament was a deep and twisted color, as if fusing endless darkness and deep blue together.

There were no stars in the sky, nor a moon, only some strange, flowing points of light, shining with a more intense darkness.

Around him, many noisy sounds surged like physical objects, full of lingering malice and evil whispers, as if they were background noise he was born with.

In this ocean full of malice, he was almost about to be drowned.

And at this moment, D-14134 also understood what this was.

This was the "power" the shadow spoke of.

The negative aspects of human nature, encompassing all sins, absorbing all light like absolute black, accompanying the human species from birth to death.

He tried to open his mouth to breathe.

But it seemed the novice protection period was over; just by opening his mouth, a sharp pain and swelling came from his chest.

It was as if everything in the world had been squeezed, folded, compressed, and then stuffed in tightly.

For a prison cell, stuffing in so many prisoners at once had far exceeded its limit.

The struggling heart was like a piece of chewing gum that had been chewed a thousand times, tattered and torn, and the bubbles blown out had expanded to the limit; any slight mistake would cause it to burst.

He raised his hand suddenly, pounding his chest hard, one blow after another, as if this could make the prisoners dizzy and strengthen the critical heart.

His body rose and fell, as if contending with all the malice of humanity since its birth.

This was in extreme danger; D-14134 considered this to be about the same as riding a unicycle on a cliff; perhaps in a few minutes, or even tens of seconds, he would reach his true limit.

"You won't last long."

The shadow's voice came, and along with it appeared its twisted face.

"You really don't think this self-overestimating method can succeed, do you?"

D-14134 gripped the clothes on his chest tightly, gasping for breath, and didn't answer.

"Why are you doing this?" its mocking voice sounded again.

"Just because of that agent?"

"Think clearly! He's just using you! Wanting you to pay with your life! Squeezing out the value of a D-Class personnel!"

D-14134's neck muscles tightened, still not answering.

"They didn't even give you a decent name or code name; you're just a string of letters and numbers."

"Do you still remember your original name? I'm afraid even you aren't very clear about it anymore."

"Will anyone remember?"

D-14134 suddenly opened his eyes, forcibly turning his neck to look at the black face floating on the sea.

"Yes, the Foundation has records of everything," he retorted.

"When a D-Class dies, the administrators will archive his number and original name."

The black shadow went quiet immediately.

It wasn't that it had nothing to say, but that it was choked by his words for a moment.

Or rather, it had no F-word to say.

In this world, besides this idiot, would anyone else give it the same answer?

A string of numbers? Hmm? The Foundation remembers? What kind of bullshit response is this?

It's like when you can't find an answer, you forcibly find some things from the corners to piece together, filling the answer sheet.

D-14134 laughed again, which looked a bit funny with his twisted expression, but he didn't care:

"Whether it's D-14134 or my original name, they all represent me, not anyone else."

"For me, that's enough; things that can represent yourself are always good."

"And from a certain perspective, D-14134 is an even more unique name—ordinary names might have duplicates, right?"

He even blinked.

As the conversation progressed, his tone also went from intermittent to increasingly steady.

His entire state also began to improve abnormally; the chaos, torture, and gibberish in his mind, as well as the unbearable swelling and tearing of his heart...

all became less painful, as if they could be accepted.

Even the ocean beneath him—that deepest malice of humanity—the pain it gave him was quietly weakening.

This was not a miracle; D-14134 was quite clear about this.

"The return of the light before death."

When he was at the Foundation, he had learned about this miracle of life, and he also knew that this would be the last struggle of his life.

The brain issues commands, the human body synthesizes a large amount of adrenaline, exchanging it for a brief mental excitement, reducing the perception of pain to a minimum.

And at the same time, all the adenosine triphosphate in the body that had various planned uses was utilized, consumed in a short period, providing a large amount of energy, allowing the body's systems and organs to quickly gain powerful momentum.

In other words, burning life in exchange for time in the present.

Medically, patients who experience the return of light before death die within a week in over 80% of cases, and nearly 50% of these die in less than a day.

But his state was far worse than that of patients in hospitals.