Chapter 109: A Textbook Method of World Destruction (Finale)

Ten minutes ago:

The Commander-in-Chief of the Nanyang Military District sat upright in the main control room, his expression solemn. Unlike Pabson, he was a black man with a physique of solid muscle, looking every bit the seasoned soldier. He sat rigidly, waiting for the incoming message.

"Commander, the target has been locked. The location covers the entirety of New Newton City. The computer is prompting us for authorization codes and a fingerprint scan," an operator sitting at the massive mainframe reported, saluting with grave formality.

"I understand..." the black commander nodded. "You may all leave."

"Yes, sir!" The operators stood in unison, gave a crisp military salute, and filed out of the control room one by one.

"Whew..." Once he was alone, the commander took a deep breath and stepped up to the console. He pressed his finger against the designated touch screen. After a moment, the computer verified it: "Fingerprint verified. Please enter authorization code."

The commander began entering the code as prompted, but just as he finished, the computer screen flashed "Authorization Successful." Suddenly, he felt a sticky, viscous sensation on his hand. He looked down and saw a glob of red, viscous substance coating his palm. It looked exactly like blood—chillingly grotesque.

The bizarre, inexplicable sight was enough to make even a man of his steely resolve stumble back several paces, landing hard on the floor.

"What an interesting password..." The mass of liquid on his hand began to boil, finally coalescing into a human face that wore a mocking, comical expression. "Is it a birthday? We’ve reviewed your files; this isn't your own birthday, is it? Based on the year and month, is it your daughter's, or perhaps your mistress's?" It let out a strange, shrill laugh. "Tee-hee, never mind. It’s all the same in the end!"

Faced with a scene straight out of a horror film, he instinctively wanted to scream in terror. Despite his high rank, he was still a human being, and basic biological reflexes remained.

"Shh!" The red liquid suddenly surged like rubber, sealing his mouth shut. "Don't be so agitated; you'll disturb the others. How can such a high-ranking commander have so little composure?"

As it spoke, countless tendrils of the same red liquid erupted from every corner of the room, converging in front of the commander to form a towering figure. The shape was in constant flux—shifting from a muscular giant to a seductive woman—each iteration more grotesque than the last.

Suddenly, it settled into the form of a young girl in her early teens. Although composed of red liquid, her facial features were rendered with perfect, sculptural realism. The commander froze; he recognized her. It was his daughter!

"Dad... Dad, can you see me?" The voice was identical to his daughter's, complete with a child's playful giggle.

"Grace... my princess!" Tears welled in the commander's eyes. When the disaster struck, he had dispatched rescue teams immediately, but his wife and daughter had tragically perished. It was the greatest pain of his life.

"Dad, it's okay. I'm here. I've always been here, and I’m never leaving again!" The red-liquid daughter stepped forward to embrace him. The commander wanted to sob uncontrollably, but his daughter covered his mouth with her hand. "Don't cry, Dad. Shall I sing you a song?"

"Yes, yes!" Even though he knew it was all a lie, he was willing to live in it.

The dialogue sounded touching, but to any outside observer, it would have been horrifying. As the black commander was held in the embrace, his body visibly melted into a pool of gore, eventually dissolving entirely into the monster.

"Aha... I really am quite gentle, aren't I? Tee-hee."

"Hey, pervert, are you done on your end?" As the monster basked in its own monologue, a low, raspy voice emanated from its abdomen. The creature paused, then pulled a black communicator from its stomach. "What, you've finished?"

"Yes!" On the other side of the display, in the Southwest Military District's control room, a pitch-black figure held the severed head of that district's commander. It glanced at the computer screen. "The code is mine. Be careful on your end; the second request will likely be sent soon. Play all you want, but don't delay the mission."

"Ugh... Understood. What a boring person," the red monster replied, its voice now sounding like a coy woman, though the effect was enough to make one's skin crawl.

"Person?" The monster looked at itself and sneered. "Are we... even entitled to call ourselves human anymore?"

***

In the Eastern Military District's main control room, Pabson received the authorization and began entering the master override code. Unlike the others, the operators remained in the room, as they were still coordinating the targeting process.

"Password accepted. Please verify fingerprint," the electronically synthesized voice sounded gentle, catering to modern preferences.

Pabson placed his hand on the touch screen. The computer prompted: "Fingerprint matched. Please bring your face closer to verify the iris."

Pabson leaned in, but the next moment, the computer issued a warning: "Beep-beep... Iris verification failed. Does not match database records!"

"What?" The group stood up in shock, staring at their commander in disbelief. Pabson, however, remained calm. "A glitch. Resend the request."

"But... this shouldn't be happening!" the female officer behind him said, her expression full of doubt.

"I said, resend the request!" Pabson raised his voice.

"Yes, sir!" the officer hurried to comply, signaling the other operators to send fresh requests to the other two bases.

The room held its breath. They expected the other bases to demand an explanation before re-authorizing, but the response was unexpectedly swift—the moment they sent the request, the other bases authorized it instantly. It felt wrong to everyone. They hadn't even locked onto the target yet, and they were already granted authorization? Did they trust them that much? Weren't they afraid they might target the bases themselves?

"Authorization received from both parties. Re-targeting now!" the operator in charge of navigation reported.

"Excellent!" Pabson walked over, looking at the targeting screen with a smile. "Oh? You've got the wrong coordinates. That's not the right spot!"

"Uh..." The operator paused, double-checking. "It's definitely New Newton, sir!"

"No, no!" Pabson waved his hand. "It's here!" He pointed to two other locations. The operator and the female officer gasped in horror, for the locations their "commander" pointed to were the Southwest and Nanyang Military Districts!

"Sir... you!" The female officer stammered. "Are you mistaken?"

"Mistaken?" Pabson turned, smiling at her. "Are you questioning me? As a soldier, questioning your superior without cause is highly unprofessional."

The female officer and all the operators present felt a chill run down their spines. They realized that the voice coming from their commander was now a sharp, shrill female tone!

The female officer, likely an elite special forces veteran, was the first to react. She hurled her console equipment at Pabson and scrambled back, her movements incredibly agile.

But her agility was only human. Within a second, half of her head was sliced off by Pabson’s cold, swift strike. The other operators in the control room were decapitated within seconds, never even getting the chance to scream. The control room was instantly bathed in blood, the floor covered in gore—it looked like a slaughterhouse.

"Ah, let's see. I watched them do it earlier, it was something like this, right?" Pabson continued in that shrill, feminine voice, walking to the console and tapping a few keys. She covered her mouth with a dainty, feminine gesture. "Oh, ho ho ho! My memory isn't half bad, is it?" Yet, coming from the body of an old man, the sight was profoundly disturbing.

"Targeting complete. Please enter password," the computer prompted, unaffected by the slaughter. It wasn't an AI, after all.

"Password correct. Please verify fingerprint."

"Fingerprint correct. Please lean in to verify iris." This time, Pabson did not lean in. Instead, he pulled a severed eyeball from his pocket and pressed it to the scanner.

"Iris verification complete." The missile launch sequence began—30-second countdown initiated.

"Aha, done!" Pabson stretched, then began to peel off his clothes. Once he was naked, he didn't stop. He peeled off his own skin like a garment, revealing a raw, bloody mass of muscle and sinew beneath.

But a moment later, fresh skin began to grow rapidly, transforming him into a stunning, seductive woman.

Had Guo Lang been there, he would have recognized it. This was a notorious variant of the Undead Terror Factory, known in the codices of the Holy Paladins of humanity as: a Skinner.