If the first half of Alphonse's life was a successful online novel about the Genius System, then the latter half of his life was like a pathetic web novel where the Genius System backfired on him.

"The Origin of Life deceived me," Alphonse Anderson said with a bitter smile. "She acted like a cold and heartless conspirator, seducing me with sweet nothings to climb step by step to the pinnacle, only to give me a rude awakening at the last moment and drag me down from the altar. Abnormal structural proteins accumulated very slowly in the human body. However, when people began to widely use chemical patches, these abnormal proteins would mutate. Not only did their replication speed accelerate, but their means of transmission also evolved from the simple 'direct consumption of livestock meat' to being able to spread through droplets. Despite public opposition, I shut down the production lines for chemical patches, but the abnormal structural proteins still infected nearly ninety percent of the human population."

Alphonse Anderson let out a ragged breath. "Under mounting pressure, I restarted the production lines for chemical patches. I didn't know what kind of harm this abnormal protein would ultimately cause, so I assembled a secret, small-scale research team, making every effort to find a cure before the crisis erupted. Prion diseases are incurable, and unsurprisingly, we failed.

By 2015, reports of convulsive deaths were surfacing around the world. Health organizations, with great vigilance and efficiency, formed medical teams, discovering dozens of types of mutated abnormal structural proteins. I already had a premonition at that time, so I disbanded all the staff of this research center and went to the secret chamber on the third basement level to meet the Origin of Life. Just like when I first met her, the Origin remained motionless, cold, and numb, completely ignoring my pleas."

Alphonse said with extreme bitterness, "Three days. After humanity's discovery, the rapidly mutating abnormal proteins needed only three days to launch a lightning assault on the central nervous system of all humankind. People collapsed in convulsions where they stood. Death, like a brush saturated with lurid paint, smeared itself wantonly across the global map. The surviving governments initially attempted to nuke their enemies. However, upon realizing it was a plague targeting all humanity, they abandoned nuclear war, retreating into shelters to quietly await death. Three days later, humanity was utterly defeated. The once-dominant species of Earth, Homo sapiens, lay strewn across the land like fallen leaves. The planet reverted to a savage age, dominated by oblivious flora and fauna..."

Alphonse Anderson looked at his own bloated, swollen hands covered with pustules and said with a bitter smile, "I am the sinner who wiped out all humanity with my own hands..."

"Then why are you still alive?" asked the Stonemason.

"I don't know." Alphonse shook his head. "Maybe the Origin pities me, or maybe she is cruel and malicious enough to let me walk the world in this inhuman guise, witnessing the doomsday of mankind that I created with my own hands."

The six players fell silent. They were shocked by what this mutated monster before them had revealed. An item that seemingly lacked any intelligence had spent decades orchestrating its scheme, step by step luring its host into causing a world-ending disaster. This

chapterispartofthecollectionon*.

"I've answered your questions." Alphonse sighed and looked at the players with eager eyes. "Now it's your turn to tell me. How many human survivors are there above ground? Have you rebuilt civilization yet?"

The Stonemason and the others remained silent. They were travelers from another world and had no idea of the state of this planet.

"There are survivors," Li Ang began. "A minority of survivors with genetic immunity to the abnormal structural proteins have already established a human settlement near Boston."

This wasn't a lie Li Ang was telling Alphonse. When he, Wanli Fengdao, and Dusk Knight encountered the Mothman in the hotel corridor, the human strapped to its back was wearing a Bulletproof Vest. Though tattered, its fabric was new. This person was likely a survivor from the settlement who had come to Boston to explore and had unfortunately fallen prey to the mutants' hunt.

"Thank goodness...." Overwhelmed by the good news, the inhuman man was at a loss for what to do. His swollen eyes welled with hot tears once more as he kept muttering, "As long as they're alive, as long as they're alive...."

"Anyway," Stonemason's thoughts rapidly shifted, continuing along Li Ang's line, "if the settlement wants to develop, they must utilize the remaining resources within the city. However, the mutants have been lingering near the city, blocking access. Our reason for coming here was to find the source of the mutants."

"I understand." Alphonse wiped away his tears. The gesture made one worry that the pustules on his arm might burst from the friction. "The Origin of Life is the source of the mutants. As soon as the standby generator is started and power is restored, I can activate the experimental center's self-destruct system and obliterate the underground laboratory along with the Origin of Life. However, the path to the standby generator has been blocked by a mutated monster. I've found no way to get through all these years. Do you... have the ability to deal with it?"

The players nodded.

"Then follow me." Alphonse turned and continued along the corridor, with the six players trailing far behind.

As the party descended the stairs to the third basement level, Zhuang Pengpai, who had been mostly quiet, suddenly asked, "How have you survived all these years without eating?"

Alphonse, leading the way, paused for a moment before continuing, "...Ate fruit."

Ignoring the other players' warning glances, Zhuang Pengpai pressed on, "What kind of fruit?"

Alphonse didn't answer. He reached the valve on the third basement level and pulled open the large door.

A Mycelium Carpet, a thick Flesh Fungi Blanket, covered the floor of the third level. Compared to the Mycelium Carpet in the surface buildings, the writhing flesh here was fresher and more vibrant. It simmered and undulated like a boiling meat stew.

Countless pillars composed entirely of flesh, like the support columns of a house, connected the floor and ceiling of the third level. From the branches of these flesh-trees hung perfectly round, apple-sized "fruits" of meat, swaying gently in the light.

The nightmarish scene sent a chill down the spines of the six players. Alphonse, however, appeared unfazed.

He stood on the Mycelium Carpet. With no sign of pain, he tore a large piece of rotting skin from his arm. Amidst the splashing pus, he ripped the skin into small pieces and tossed them to the players.

"Stick it to your feet, and the Mycelium Carpet won't attack you." Alphonse, letting the blood flow freely from his arm, calmly said, "Be careful not to touch the walls."

The six players were silent for a moment. Then, they stuck the still-warm, yellow-green skin to the soles of their shoes and followed Alphonse into the third basement level.