Horror Game Designer

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

Drenched in blood and marred by numerous wounds, Gao Ming had tragically lost his left eye. Grasping his cell phone with a death grip, he pinned his fading hopes on the ethereal presences of Ghost Mom and Ghost Dad.

The shadows around him swirled and danced with a menacing intent as he lay there. In a moment reminiscent of his childhood birthday wishes, Gao Ming silently made a fervent wish, keeping it a secret this time.

Suddenly, a series of loud “Bang! Bang! Bang!” sounds echoed through the air. The dark, metallic door that stood before Gao Ming shuddered under the force of someone or something knocking from the other side.

At that exact moment, his phone call connected, and through the hissing and crackling static, he heard his mother’s voice, tinged with concern: “Gao Ming, are you feeling homesick again?”

The knocking intensified, becoming more frantic, while the images of his parents in the photograph he carried began to slowly dissolve into nothingness.

The metal door started to warp and bend as if under immense pressure. Like sinister veins, red tendrils wound their way around Gao Ming’s wounds. A massive, ominous chair in the room seemed to pulse with a malevolent desire to pull Gao Ming back into its grasp.

With his fingers clawing into the uneven ground, Gao Ming yelled into the phone. As the last image in the photograph vanished, the blood-soaked metal door was completely engulfed by shadows. Its hinges groaned and twisted unnaturally, and with a final, violent effort, the door was flung open!

There, in the doorway, stood his eerie ghost parents, their faces twisted into strange smiles, holding Gao Ming’s favorite cake. Despite their contorted bodies, the cake remained perfectly intact.

Responding with a bloodied hand, Gao Ming reached out towards his strangely smiling family. “Yes, happy birthday,” he replied with a mix of dread and determination. “Let’s enjoy the birthday cake once we’ve made our escape.”

The chair that seemed to hunger for Gao Ming knew nothing of the warmth of family ties. It was a cold, emotionless object. Even filled with human hearts, it lacked any understanding of kinship.

From beneath the chair, blood-red tendrils emerged, viciously piercing the bodies of Ghost Mom and Ghost Dad. The chair attempted to pull them into its clutches, but whenever they were harmed, they would dissolve back into the shadows.

His ghost parents were not overwhelmingly powerful, but they seemed to be unyieldingly resilient.

Gao Ming, with the photograph now safely tucked back into his backpack, tried to rise, his body wracked with unbearable pain. The malevolent ghost, in its cruel desire to prolong his suffering, had intentionally avoided his vital spots, giving him the painful opportunity to move.

With each agonizing step, Gao Ming felt as though his legs were being ripped apart. He bit down hard, pushing himself forward, uncertain of when the ghost would reveal its true form again.

The air grew thick with the stench of blood. Overhead, pipes snaked across the ceiling while blood vessels like grotesque decorations sprawled along the walls.

Aware of the potential dangers that lay ahead, Gao Ming knew he had no option to retreat. With a sense of urgency, he quickened his pace, the filthy water on the dungeon floor reaching his ankles. Amidst the murkiness, he perceived a strange calling, not of his name, but a deep, unsettling sensation within his flesh, as if part of him had been extracted long ago.

Reflecting on his first foray into Building B, Gao Ming recalled a similar feeling. “They all said I had worshipped the Flesh Immortal. Could it be calling out to me now?” he pondered.

Above him, the cacophony of battle and struggle resonated, punctuated by the unceasing screams of Situ An. Gao Ming recognized this as a fleeting opportunity he couldn’t afford to miss.

Leaving a bloody trail, with his wounds reopening with each step, he felt as though he was in a grim race against death itself, his heart pounding increasingly harder. “I can’t stop; to stop is to lose all hope,” he told himself, determination fueling his every move.

Despite his willpower, his body was barely cooperating. On the brink of collapse, the spectral form of Ghost Dad suddenly lifted him. “You’ve gotten yourself dirty again. How old are you, still causing worries?” Ghost Dad chided with a spectral concern.

The dungeon opened up to a labyrinthine network of underground passages riddled with deadly traps set by the evil ghost. Such a passage would normally be insurmountable for anyone, living or spectral.

However, under the guidance of his eerie Ghost Mom and Ghost Dad, Gao Ming incredibly managed to escape!

Carried by the spectral form of his Ghost Dad, they followed the scent of blood to the very heart of the underground torture chamber. Here, pipes of varying sizes converged, each exuding an aura of bloodthirst and malevolence. This was the darkest, most sinister corner of Building B!

Arranged meticulously were the bodies of various ghosts and monsters, including investigators, neighbors, and entities from the shadow world. Blood and malevolence flowed towards the center, congregating around a four-armed demon statue with a bizarrely pulsating Heart of Mortality.

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

Gao Ming couldn’t help but wonder, “Was everything in this underground torture chamber orchestrated to nourish this heart?”

He realized that the heart that had been calling out to him was indeed the Heart of Mortality in the statue. As the eerie ghost parents neared the macabre pile of corpses, they dissolved into shadows, forcing Gao Ming to crawl towards it himself.

Sensing a disturbance, the malevolent ghost opened its eyes within the statue. But Gao Ming, having faced far more horrifying experiences in the tunnels, remained undaunted.

The sounds of conflict from above intensified, signaling something rapidly approaching. Meanwhile, more of the eerie ghost parents in the photograph transformed back into shadows, adding to the ominous atmosphere.

Exhausted and at his limit, Gao Ming mustered his remaining strength to climb onto the macabre mound of corpses, his hand grasping the chilling figure of the demon statue. His blood surged through his veins, and the surreal situation felt akin to a nightmarish vision he had once experienced.

He was caught in a dire internal conflict, muttering to himself, “If I consume the flesh, I’ll be irrevocably condemned to a fate far grimmer than death. But if I refrain, I can barely muster the strength to move.”

In that moment, the heart within the statue and Gao Ming’s own heart began to pulsate as one. It was then that the relentless entity that had been doggedly pursuing him through the tunnels revealed itself.

Covered in blood, Situ An emerged from the passage, his head lifting to unveil the horrific sight of black characters inscribed within his eyes. Their gazes locked, and without a moment’s delay, both Gao Ming and Situ An leaped into action.

Situ An, devoid of any unnecessary words, charged towards the heap of bodies, his knife a whirlwind of motion. Each eerie ghost parent in his path was swiftly reduced to shadows under his relentless blade.

Gao Ming, acting with equal determination, bit into the pulsating Heart of Mortality nestled within the clay statue, engulfing it entirely within mere seconds.

Their actions were marked by a decisive swiftness. As the final eerie ghost parent retreated into the photograph, Gao Ming completed his consumption of the statue’s heart.

A tormenting pain, exponentially more intense than anything he had felt before, radiated from his chest, engulfing his entire body. Gao Ming sensed an overwhelming power seeping into every fiber of his being, his heart undergoing a wild transformation.

Simultaneously, mysterious black characters began to surface across the wounds on his body. Stepping back, he observed the cut on his palm where these enigmatic characters shifted continuously, appearing like some form of curse or cryptic message. Amongst them, he discerned the character for “life”.

Witnessing Gao Ming’s consumption of the Heart of Mortality, Situ An momentarily halted, seemingly speaking to himself or perhaps questioning an unseen entity, “If I cut open his chest now and devour his heart, can I seize the powers of the Flesh Immortal?”

As he spoke, an alien, raspy voice issued forth from Situ An’s lips: “You could try, but I would advise consuming him entirely, not just the heart!”

Across the grotesque pile, Gao Ming tightened his grip on the chain he held. Hearing two distinct voices emanating from Situ An, he ventured a guess, “Did you allow the ghost to possess you?”

“I owe you a debt of gratitude for my current situation,” Situ An remarked, his eyes briefly scanning his own horrific injuries before fixating on Gao Ming. “Had you not made your way here, causing the Cannibal Ghost to fear losing the Heart of Mortality, it wouldn’t have proposed an alliance with me. I endured a relentless nineteen minutes of the Cannibal Ghost’s torture. All the while, I was waiting for your psyche to collapse, seizing the opportunity to consume the ‘flesh’ I possessed. But to my surprise, you managed to withstand even longer than I did.”

Gao Ming, puzzled by Situ An’s tone, inquired, “Why do you seem more bitter towards me despite being tortured by the Cannibal Ghost?”

“Harbor resentment?” Situ An replied as he advanced, knife in hand, “I never allow hatred to cloud my judgment. Even the Cannibal Ghost, my recent tormentor, can become an ally in the right circumstances. I disregard such petty emotions. My focus is solely on completing my objectives. It’s a matter of right and wrong, good and evil. If you’re prepared to assist me, we could be the greatest of allies; if you choose to stand in my way, then I will use every means at my disposal to eliminate you.”

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