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I returned to the facility without incident and immediately looked for the room with the cryosleep units.

As I searched, I regretted not pinning down the location properly over there, and while thinking, It was around here, I think, I entered a third different room.

“Not here either…”

Rooms without power weren’t the one I wanted, so I only gave them a quick glance and moved on.

Fortunately—or so I could call it—this area seemed designed with the possibility of test subjects moving through it, and even my huge body could walk without issue.

Wide corridors and high ceilings were a good thing, and what I reached next was a pair of double doors that looked exactly like what you’d expect.

‘Yeah. This is definitely it.’

The moment I pushed the doors open and stepped inside, I knew it.

Eight large capsule-type cryosleep units sat in the dark room.

The details looked slightly different from the one I’d been in, but the number matched the lamps I’d seen earlier, and one unit—still running—gave off a faint glow. That made it obvious this was my destination.

For now, I flipped the room’s light switch on the wall, then approached the active unit, peering into the capsules along the way.

Inside was something that could barely be called “humanoid,” dried out and withered.

I couldn’t even tell where the eyes and nose were, and there was no clear boundary between the neck and head.

It made me want to say, “What horror game is this?”

It was too real to be funny.

I didn’t need to check the next capsule.

Countless lines on the round glass viewing window—like scratches.

‘The “woke up but couldn’t open it from the inside” scenario makes my skin crawl if I imagine it.’

The horror elements were piled so high that this one room alone was more than enough.

And then I looked down at what I’d come here for.

If I had to describe what I saw beyond the glass in one phrase, it was “wriggling pink.”

A mass of flesh that had mutated and kept swelling was packed tight inside the capsule.

No chance of “false advertising” with this kind of guaranteed full capacity—housewives would smile.

I, meanwhile, was turning green.

It was such a horrific visual that any kid would burst into tears and run, and I let out a miserable, “Ugh…”

“If I open this, is it the type where the contents just slorp out?”

And on top of everything, it was “alive.”

It wasn’t so much pulsing as a trapped lump of meat squirming with nowhere to go.

The freshness was absurd.

If it screamed when I started dinner, I might actually cry.

For now, what I needed was the courage to bite into this worst-looking writhing meat mass.

Just as I inhaled to steel myself, I remembered something.

‘Right. The first and second times happened because my “bite” attack landed.’

Meaning I didn’t need to focus on “eating”—I just had to bite and tear.

My body should absorb the rest on its own.

That thought made it a little easier.

So I tried to operate the machinery around the capsule to open it—only to realize the panel was built for humans.

I carefully pressed inputs one by one with my index finger, but between the height and the finicky controls, it was a pain.

And then the authentication failed.

Apparently, the card I had couldn’t open the capsule.

“Now you’re forcing me to hunt for key items,” I grumbled at the facility for throwing in yet another horror-game mechanic.

So I searched around, muttering under my breath.

Sure, I could solve it by smashing things, but if that killed the test subject inside, it would defeat the entire purpose.

If this solved my biggest problem, I could tolerate a bit of detouring.

That was my mindset—until it became irrelevant.

I got another ID card surprisingly easily, and when I entered its code, one fact became clear.

To open this capsule—meaning to forcibly release a genetically enhanced soldier—you apparently needed a highest-level authorization code.

There was no “it opens automatically after a set time” like with successful cases, and I could vaguely tell these were stored here as “failures.”

Which was why, right now, I was strongly leaning toward “open it and bite before it dies.”

To begin with, I imagined any human with top-level authority had fled first.

Or if they were a genius scientist with something wrong in the head, their ending was usually either “gets eaten” or “gets killed.”

And if it was some righteous undercover agent, that was probably doomed too.

Even if it was just fiction, the stubbornness of those types felt downright inhuman.

Setting that aside, I still couldn’t decide, and I paced restlessly around the capsule.

The glimpses of other units’ contents kept draining my appetite without mercy.

‘If I let this chance go, I might never get another. But if I hesitate, the thing inside could die.’

Either way, there were risks.

“…It shouldn’t die instantly.”

Even as a failure, it was still a genetically enhanced soldier.

Trusting that vitality, I committed to breaking the capsule.

Not by brute-forcing it with a punch—I meant carefully prying the lid open.

I’d expected it to be incredibly tough, so I thought I’d struggle, but the capsule deformed surprisingly easily, and I managed to remove the lid.

And the instant I did, the swollen-looking meat mass lunged at me.

I reflexively smacked it away with the capsule lid in my hands and put distance between myself and the wriggling pink lump.

Freed, the meat mass overflowed out of the capsule like it was pouring.

Between the vile appearance and the stench rolling off it, my motivation got ground down hard.

“Spare me the ‘fresh carrion,’ seriously.”

I slumped my shoulders, watching the energetic meat mass swell and spread—and suddenly I felt like something was looking at me.

It was completely casual.

Was it because I wanted to avert my eyes from what was in front of me?

Or was it something else?

I didn’t know why, but I pulled my gaze away from the meat mass and looked up at the ceiling.

Yes. I should’ve been looking at the ceiling.

But what was there was a thinly spread layer of that meat, and inside the pink carpet, a single human-sized eyeball.

The moment our eyes met, a wet squelch—like mucus rubbing—echoed through the room.

When I looked down, there was a huge hole, like the meat had been gouged out.

‘No—this isn’t a hole…’

The moment I instinctively judged, “That’s a mouth,” I leapt back.

At the same time, the pink meat mass rained down from the ceiling like it was covering me.

I hurled a fireball I’d made with magic, and the wave of flesh split apart to avoid it.

So it did hate fire on a basic biological level—faithful to the trope.

I turned my back and sprinted for the entrance.

Since I had no idea what abilities it had, I had to assume letting myself get into its mouth would be dangerous.

“This is… not what I expected.”

Who could’ve predicted a horror-game twist here too?

With a look and setup that could work in a panic-horror movie, I spat a curse under my breath and scanned the corridor for something usable.

My plan was to block this entrance for now, but… there was nothing good for it.

Just as I regretted my choice—Bad location—a loud crash rang out.

Something breaking—specifically, the kind of sound you’d get if a cryosleep capsule shattered.

The reason I could be that specific was because I cracked the door open and peeked inside through the gap.

In my line of sight was the capsule’s contents—no, the remains of a test subject being swallowed into the hole in the ceiling-clinging meat mass.

Then capsule after capsule broke, and the writhing flesh carried the once-human sleepers into its mouth.

“…Seriously, what am I supposed to do about this?”

My homeland blew itself up, and now this too—was that the plan?