Synthesis-type adventurers

Chapter 62 Machinery and Flesh

"Tickets for three people."

Rhodes neatly placed 15 silver coins on the iron plate at the ticket booth in exchange for three iron passes with gear patterns.

The ticket seller was an elderly dwarf.

Through his thick glasses, he scrutinized the strange group with the look of someone staring at a dead man:

A gaunt man with an indistinct face, a female swordswoman wearing patched plate armor, and a fox spirit reeking of black market money.

"Good luck," the old gnome muttered, tossing the metal plaque out the window. "If you die down there, please die somewhere far away, so you don't clog the drainage grates, or we'll have to pay someone to clean them again."

Rod ignored the other party's obviously pessimistic remarks.

He put away the iron plaque, ignoring the pitying or mocking glances around him, and led the group into the iron cage.

"Let's go," Rod said, "to see our hunting grounds."

With a sickening metallic scraping sound, the elevator's iron gates slowly closed, and after a heart-pounding jolt, the car began to plummet.

The feeling of weightlessness lasted for a full two minutes.

With a deafening roar, the iron cage finally came to a stop. The surrounding air had become thick and polluted, and the temperature had risen significantly.

This is the lower level of the sunken workshop. Further down lies their destination—the C-4 drainage area.

The three of them stepped out of the elevator and walked along a wide main access road.

At first, the surroundings were still the familiar scene of abandoned industrial ruins—rusted steam pipes, broken conveyor belts, and gears and bolts scattered all over the ground.

But as they ventured deeper, the scenery began to distort, and things started to go wrong.

The surface of the metal conduits on the wall has been covered with a layer of dark red fungal-like organisms since some unknown time.

This living thing is not a dead thing; it pulsates with a faint rhythm full of vitality.

The simple smell of engine oil in the air disappeared, replaced by a pungent, sweet and nauseating stench of rust and rotting flesh.

"What is this?" Chiba wrinkled his nose, disgustedly avoiding a puddle of sticky pink liquid at his feet. "This doesn't look like ordinary alchemy scrap."

"Don't touch it," Rod warned in a low voice, "this place is coming to life."

The darkness ahead grew ever deeper.

Rod took out a blue glass ball made last night from his pouch, pinched it with his thumb to activate the stabilizer inside, and then threw it out with a backhand.

The azure orb of light traced a path in the darkness and stuck to a pillar tens of meters away.

A sudden flash of cold light sculpted the scene ahead from the shadows.

Even the well-informed Rhodes couldn't help but gasp at the sight.

On the giant brass sewage pipe, which was more than three yards in diameter, the valve, which should have been made of cold metal, was now wrapped by a huge mass of pink flesh and blood.

The mass of tissue was a parasitic tumor, its surface covered with bluish-purple blood vessels that were rhythmically contracting and expanding.

The ends of those blood vessels pierced directly into the joints of the metal pipes, as if they were drawing some kind of nourishment from this dead machine.

Or rather... it's about controlling it.

This is the C-4 drainage area—a nightmare where machinery and flesh are twisted and intertwined.

"If it weren't for your glowing ball, I would have thought I'd walked into the guts of a giant beast." Chiba's voice sounded muffled under his gas mask, making no attempt to hide his disgust.

She lifted her leather-covered toes and lightly kicked the pipes by the roadside.

The cast iron pipe wall has a sickly, translucent, gelatinous appearance. Clear water or steam has long been lost, and some kind of yellowish-green turbid slurry fills the inside.

As Chiba touched it, the surface of the pipe twitched, and the slurry inside surged under pressure, squeezing out a wet, slippery slurry similar to that of digestion in the stomach.

The fox-girl recoiled as if electrocuted, the fur on her tail standing on end.

"Boss, something's not right here. Even in the dirtiest septic tank in Rust Harbor, the maggots there just wriggle around, nothing like this... um, 'full of life'."

"Lively is a good word, but using it here will only give people nightmares."

Rhodes didn't turn around; his attention was entirely focused on the information fed back by [Analysis Vision].

His eyes, hidden behind the gold-plated protective goggles, scanned his surroundings.

[Active metal (gray)], [Contaminated condensate (white)], [Meat-like valve (white)]...

Everything here defies common sense.

Inorganic matter is transforming into organic matter, and inanimate objects are gaining life.

This is not just simple magical pollution; it's more like a tampering with the underlying material rules.

"Avira, raise your shield higher and be alert," Rhodes whispered. "Don't let the slime splatter on you, unless you want to experience the feeling of rust growing on your skin."

Upon hearing this, the female knight immediately raised her heavy tower shield, her body completely disappearing into the shadow of the shield.

Her breathing quickened, and her emerald eyes warily stared at the indescribable silhouettes in the darkness.

"Lord Rhodes, there's an unsettling atmosphere in the air," Avira said in a muffled voice. "It's like... a corpse left to rot in the sun for three days on the battlefield, and there's a smell of burning grease."

Rod stopped, his gaze fixed on a puddle in front of him.

The main drainage channel there was filled with a large amount of black sewage in the low-lying area, with colorful oil slicks floating on the surface. Beneath the oil layer, several shadows visible to the naked eye were slowly rising.

"Our welcoming ceremony has begun."

As soon as Rod finished speaking, the calm surface of the sewage pool burst open, splashing water everywhere.

Eight or nine humanoid monsters climbed ashore, crowding the narrow passageway.

They were bulky and bizarre, wearing deep-sea diving suits from two hundred years ago. The rubber material had long since rotted and adhered to the decaying flesh below, blurring the lines between the equipment and the skin.

The original position of the diving helmet was occupied by a swollen tumor, with several broken glass lenses embedded in it, which rotated like compound eyes.

The dual gas tanks behind it were rusty, and the airflow forcefully eroded the aging valves, producing a hoarse hissing sound of leaking gas.

The rhythmic mechanical noise echoed through the deathly silent sewers, as if the breaths of the dead had long since ceased.

"Watch out! This thing looks like it has thick skin!"

Chiba reacted extremely quickly. The moment the monster climbed ashore, he flicked his right hand, and two gleaming throwing knives flew out of his hand.

With a muffled thud, the throwing knife struck the leader of the monsters in the chest, but it felt as if it had pierced through tough cowhide.

The knife tip only pierced the skin before bouncing off and falling into the sewage.

"Damn it! It can't even penetrate!" Chiba gritted his teeth. "It can't even break the skin. My poison, which targets demons, is completely ineffective!"

Enraged by this weak attack, the monster spewed out thick green smoke from the gas canisters on its back, and the high-pressure nozzles connected to its arms glowed with a dark red light.

The high-pressure water jet shot out like an arrow, heading straight for Avira.