Chapter 67: Hunting Time

"You... how did you... come back?" Turan asked in a low voice. "What about... that chelate?"

"It's locked in the corridor, on the other end," Hesta replied softly. "That isolation door should hold for a while. Ms. Chiba arranged to meet me here, and she'll be arriving soon."

"Chiba is coming..." Turan's breathing trembled. "That's... wonderful..."

Turan's voice was somewhat weak. Struggling to think of a topic, Hesta looked toward Sean in the distance, and a thought suddenly occurred to her.

"By the way, what is the 'prefrontal cortex'?"

"The prefrontal cortex... oh, the prefrontal cortex is the... brain region at the very front of the brain." Hearing the question, Turan understood Hesta's intent and continued, "Destroying it is the most direct and thorough way... to kill a chelate..."

Hesta's ears immediately perked up.

"If you can use thermal weapons... on a large scale, intensively using incendiary bombs, you can destroy... chelates in batches, because high temperatures cause proteins to... denature.

"However, if it's in... a habitable zone, or the wasteland where civilians await rescue, mercury needles are needed for close combat."

Turan shivered slightly.

Hesta asked with concern, "Do you still have the strength to speak?"

"Yes," Turan looked at her. "This question is important. You... listen to me... finish."

Hesta nodded silently.

"After the onset, a chelate's bones and... most of the skin away from the joints... become reinforced. Ordinary bullets and cold steel can hardly pierce their defense... except for... the eyeballs... and the nasal cavity."

Eyeballs.
Nasal cavity.

Hesta's brain raced. During her previous fight with the chelate, she had tried following Sean's advice to specifically target its eyes. Whenever a bullet threatened to deal damage to the area around the eyes, the chelate would stop its offensive and switch to defense.

So, this was the weakness?

"But... merely injuring these parts is... not enough," Turan went on. "The reason we must focus our attacks on the eyeballs and... nasal cavity is because through these weaknesses, we might be able to... use weapons to destroy the chelate's brain, especially... the prefrontal cortex.

"The prefrontal cortex is the brain lobe that manages cognition, emotion, and behavior, and it is also what drives the chelate's... killing behavior. Destroy it, and the chelate will become harmless... or dead..."

"I see."

Turan let out a long sigh. "...Jane."

"I'm here."

"When... is Chiba coming?"

"She's been at the base all day, she should be here very soon," Hesta said in a low voice. "At most three minutes, she will definitely arrive—she's impatient and never procrastinates."

"Good... good..." Turan panted. "Three minutes, I... I can manage."

Before her voice trailed off, both of them simultaneously heard footsteps approaching the corridor outside the door. Immediately following that came the sound of tapping keys—someone was entering a thirteen-digit identification number. Someone was inputting a mercury needle ID at the door.

Turan and Hesta both stared at the closed heavy door. "Ms. Chiba!"

However, the door did not open. An emotionless synthesized female voice rang out mechanically:

[ID and biometric information match failed. Your action constitutes illegal intrusion. Please leave immediately.]

Turan instantly sank into despair—the person outside could not be Chiba; it was most likely that chelate attempting to input her ID.

Sure enough, outside the door, the chelate curled its lips.

The door to the safe room, much like the isolation door in the corridor, was made of extremely sturdy, hard-to-destroy material. But what did that matter? If the door couldn't be smashed open, how about smashing the wall embedded with the door right along with it? It would merely take a bit more time.

The chelate raised its fists. With every punch it landed, the ground here shook in response.

Inside the safe room, Sean had already passed out. Only Turan and Hesta were enduring these agonizing seconds.

Turan looked up at Hesta. "Hide, Jane, find a place to hide by yourself... Buy as much time as you can—no, wait, you need to... go get the anti-contagion spray first, otherwise the moment it gets in, it will smell where you are... Quick... hurry!"

Hesta didn't move. Looking at the vibrating wall and door before her, she suddenly remembered the door to the monastery's lounge.

She had pushed open that door countless times, and behind it, she had received embraces and kisses from the old man.

She recalled a distant afternoon, an anthropologist, a thick book, and Alma's slow, gentle reading voice—

"Jane!" Turan scolded sharply. "Did you hear me? Hurry—hide!"

Hesta snapped back to reality.

The past and the present overlapped, everything seeming to repeat itself, irresistibly marching toward destruction.

The door-smashing sounds continued a dozen more times. With one final deafening crash, the chelate finally tore the entire door of the safe room off its hinges.

As the dispersed dust settled, the chelate caught a wave of scent so strong it was almost pungent—the anti-contagion spray had masked almost any other odor in the room.

It first spotted Turan, who was barely lifting her head. Not far behind her, that black-haired kid was lying by the wall receiving a blood transfusion.

"You're actually still not dead...?" The chelate was genuinely startled. It frowned, blocked its nose, and looked left and right. "Where's the redhead?"

"Don't come over..." Turan's voice was low, issuing a pale threat. "The other mercury needles... are coming right now."

The chelate let out a chuckle. It walked slowly over to Turan and squatted down.

"I never thought of leaving here alive, Turan... I know all too well what kind of place this is. There's no way I could escape.

"If not for the extension agents the base injects me with every day, I wouldn't have survived last week. You can't possibly imagine how boring being a chelate is... Still, I really should thank you for giving me such an enjoyable gaming experience before my death."

It smiled.

"I shouldn't have left without checking the body earlier... My mistake, making you suffer in vain here for so long. Don't be afraid, don't worry, it won't hurt much longer."

The chelate's hand cupped Turan's chin, slowly tightening around her throat.

"Goodbye, little girl from Catra. I will... remember you."

A single drop of sweat.

A single drop of sweat fell like a raindrop.

It lightly struck the chelate's arm.

Almost at that exact moment, the chelate suddenly felt a wave of biting murderous intent—an intent so potent it instantly scrambled its focus.

In a flash, the chelate raised its head—

On the ceiling chandelier, the red-haired Hesta was suspended upside down.

But at that moment, she was already plunging downward like an arrow released from a bowstring.

The chelate immediately shifted sideways to dodge, but Hesta had already reached out to her. Like the swallow of death, she descended onto its shoulder.

The girl wrapped one arm around the chelate's neck while tightly gripping the practice gun with her other hand, mercilessly shoving it straight into the chelate's eye—

The bursting eyeball exploded like fireworks. The fast-firing bullets instantly pierced the chelate's brain, the scorching rounds churning up brain matter like tofu. Fresh, hot blood and brain tissue sprayed outward from the hollow eye socket, flying into the air alongside a shower of empty casings.

Even though the chelate had stopped struggling after the very first bullet left the barrel, Hesta never loosened her grip around its neck.

The remaining six rubber bullets in the magazine were all... every single one of them... pumped straight into the chelate's left eye.