94

First, observation—the room held the objective and three men.

From their movements, it seemed they were examining Spider-Man’s upper body.

On the shelves fixed to the wall lay numerous tools, some of which looked unmistakably like torture instruments.

Apparently, they were currently studying the boundary between man and spider—scraping off bits with blades, soaking them in chemicals, and conversing with grim expressions.

Most likely, they were using magical means to investigate, but the expected reactions were not appearing, leaving them puzzled.

(Genetically enhanced soldiers were created not through magic, but through science. Their research won’t progress as they hope.)

In any case, for my purposes, these three were an obstacle.

So, along with covering up the evidence, I had them die—right here.

They were nothing more than researchers, or something similar, without combat strength.

They were hardly any trouble. I slowly approached and snapped their necks.

The last one, even after the other two collapsed, didn’t notice—he was too absorbed in Spider-Man.

Researchers, it seemed, could become so fixated on what was before them that they ignored their surroundings.

Perhaps it was the same in both science and magic—I recalled that madman I had seen in the dream.

And so, I successfully secured Spider-Man’s corpse.

Up to this point, things were proceeding smoothly.

I was about to carry it away when I realized something as I drew closer.

(…So it only looked intact because it had been repaired. And this smell beneath the reek of chemicals…)

The flesh had completely rotted.

They had simply made it look presentable, using chemicals to suppress the stench.

“To think you’d tell me to eat this,” I muttered, even I hesitating for a moment.

But survival left me no choice.

I had to move it to a safe place first—but I had no memory of such a place nearby.

(At worst, into the forest of the former Empire. No way I’m taking this back to my base. It’s revolting, and it stinks. The problem is… how to carry it.)

Looking around the room, the solution quickly caught my eye.

The table on which Spider-Man lay—I could just carry that whole.

So I lifted the table.

If I had rope, I could secure the body, but unfortunately, I had none.

Carefully, I made my way through the cave, making sure the corpse didn’t fall, and stepped outside—

Only to find no ambush of soldiers waiting to see the carnage.

I slipped away easily.

It was almost anticlimactic.

I retrieved my backpack, and so far everything was nearly ideal—but I couldn’t lower my guard.

Avoiding human eyes, I headed south, carefully carrying the table through the forest.

After some time walking with the corpse, the sun was already past its zenith by the time I judged I had crossed into the former Empire’s lands.

“At least now I can breathe easier.”

I muttered this as I set down the table, pulled out a water tank from my pack, and drank.

The fruit I had been nibbling on was now gone, so I would soon need to procure food—but for the moment I was transporting not fresh meat, but rotting flesh.

I couldn’t risk leaving it unattended, lest wild animals feast on it.

While considering food, I looked at the corpse again.

“So this is what I have to eat…”

I poked it with my finger.

“…It squished.”

Undeniably rotten meat.

The thought made my resolve waver, and I found myself muttering again,

“You really want me to eat this?”

The longer time passed, the more my determination seemed to slip.

(No, that can’t be. I can do this—my teacher said I was capable. Eating some rotten meat is nothing.)

Still, one concern gnawed at me.

Ordinarily, eating rotten food meant stomach trouble.

But what about me?

Would my body absorb even things it shouldn’t?

The more I thought, the more uneasy I grew.

“…I’ll just try a little. Just a nibble.”

If it triggered the phenomenon, I could leave the rest to fate.

This area was still close enough to human lands, and thanks to my goblin-clearing, there were many wild animals but few monsters.

Even if I collapsed, nothing too threatening should be around.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and reached for Spider-Man’s corpse.

The squishy feel of the flesh made me grimace as I opened my mouth—then remembered.

Last time, when I had taken a finger into my mouth, I had chewed and swallowed naturally, without conscious intent.

Maybe this time too, if I put fingers in my mouth, my body would act on its own.

I tore off two fingers, closed my eyes, and tossed them in.

Nothing happened.

So I touched the cut ends with my tongue—

And vomited.

The putrid stench, the chemicals, and my body’s rejection of rotten flesh overwhelmed me, and I retched it all out.

But I wasn’t so weak as to give up here.

I grabbed the fallen fingers, shoved them back into my mouth, and chewed.

The result—no reaction.

I waited, but my body remained unchanged.

Unable to force down more, I spat them out, rinsed my mouth with water, and sighed.

I stared at the corpse.

“Too much time passed? Or maybe corpses don’t work? Or is it because they doused it in chemicals?”

I didn’t know.

But I had a strong sense it wouldn’t work.

(Wait… maybe that’s it!)

That scientist had said:

“This is a message for those who keep devouring rampaging subjects.”

So it was meant for eating the living.

This corpse—and even the failures in the facility—were likely outside the condition.

Maybe it was the spider half that needed eating, but since I couldn’t find it, that too was impossible.

If I’d realized sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted this effort.

Still, it was good I hadn’t asked the elves for help yet.

In the end, though the matter had reset, at least I had eliminated the nightmare of Spider-Man’s corpse being reused.

So overall, the outcome was positive.

Yes—nothing had been wasted.

Now, what to do with this inconvenient body?

After some thought, I concluded: “It’s just the human half—just leave it.”

“Yeah, it just looks like a half-eaten human.”

Anyone would think it was someone attacked by a monster, half-devoured, and abandoned.

So I would leave it to decompose naturally, deeper in the forest.

The table was wooden—I could smash it apart.

There were no human signs near the cave, and no survivors.

No way to link this to me.

Once I disposed of it, only a mystery would remain.

So, I set off to finish the job, carrying the corpse deeper into the woods.

It felt like covering up a crime.

Would Canaan’s great detectives solve it?

(Though maybe they don’t even have detectives. Well, good luck finding the culprit!)

In high spirits, I swung the table and flung the corpse into the forest.

The table smashed against a tree.

Too lazy to go further, I tore off what remained of the hand and scattered it on the ground.

“And that’s that!”

I declared, hands on my hips.

The problem was, my lifespan as a human had not advanced an inch.

I looked up at the sky, but only saw clear blue.

Soon, it would be dusk.

Standing here wouldn’t help, so since I had come this far, I might as well stop by the nearest town.

Not for requests—just to find something as a return gift for the fruit.

And since my base had started receiving visitors, I needed more dishes.

I might even find other useful items.

My next destination was decided.

As long as I had tasks, my mind stayed steady.

If I kept shaping circumstances where my human reason could persist, maybe—just maybe—I could manage.