Chapter 360: The Beast (Part 2)

As the sudden, inexplicable gust of wind howled through the fields, the wheat stalks crackled and swayed violently, while loose stones were sent flying through the air. The farmers' wives shielded their faces, children clung tightly to their mothers, the men in black huddled behind the jeep, and the doctor lay flat on the ground, tense with unease.

But none of this mattered to the young girl. Trembling, she reached out her hand, staring at the fresh blood staining her fingers. Then, cradling Hoffa's chin, she desperately tried to check on him, his body drenched in blood.

Suddenly, without warning, a stone hand emerged from the ground, ruthlessly blocking her movements and separating her from Hoffa.

Her eyes widened in shock as she staggered back several steps. From all directions, small stones flew through the air, gathering in front of Hoffa and forming multiple stone arms. These arms crossed defensively, creating a protective barrier around him, refusing to let her get any closer.

This supernatural sight drew the attention of everyone present. All eyes turned to the standing boy. He was gazing up at the sun with vacant, rolled-back eyes, blood seeping continuously from his nose and mouth, his appearance utterly wretched.

"Hoffa!!"

Suzanna cried out in alarm.

The girl shuddered, biting down hard on her fist. Then, without hesitation, she withdrew, vanishing swiftly into the crowd's periphery. Her departure went unnoticed—everyone's focus was fixed on the mysterious stone hands and the bloodied boy behind them.

The doctor, still lying on the ground, heard Suzanna's shout. As if struck by lightning, he scrambled to his feet and seized Suzanna by the collar, demanding in a sharp tone, "What did you just call him?"

Suzanna, terrified by his sudden aggression, dared not speak.

"Say it! What did you call him?!"

The doctor shook her violently.

"Hoffa! His name is Hoffa!"

Tears streamed down Suzanna's face as she sobbed, "Sir, please help him! He looks so terrifying like this!"

Upon learning the boy's true identity, the doctor's nostrils flared, his eyes burning with a fervent intensity. He shoved Suzanna aside and turned to his subordinates, shouting in excitement, "We've found Patient Zero! Arrest him immediately—he's Patient Zero!"

All the men in black instantly drew their firearms, surrounding the motionless boy in a tight circle.

The boy stood like a statue under the sunlight, head tilted back, mouth open, his pallid complexion resembling that of a corpse. Blood streaked across his pale skin, forming a horrifying contrast. His eyes, wide as saucers, showed no trace of white—only an abyss of darkness.

The chilling sight, combined with the strange phenomena, sent shivers down the spines of the doctor and his men. One of the black-clad figures, gripping a long carbine rifle, cautiously prodded Hoffa's face. Even this small action made the others instinctively retreat several steps in fear.

However, nothing unusual happened. The boy remained frozen in place, unresponsive. The stone hands no longer moved either. In fact, ever since the girl had disappeared, they had gone completely still, devoid of any sign of life.

"He doesn't seem dangerous," the armed man muttered.

"Don't be fooled. This is the most dangerous wizard alive."

The doctor's gaze never wavered from Hoffa as he ordered, "Take him to the vehicle."

"Yes, sir. And what about these children?"

"They've been in contact with the wizard—they could be infected. Round up everyone here and put them under strict quarantine."

With that, the candy that had once been handed out to the children was replaced by ropes and sacks. The black-clad enforcers swiftly moved in, binding the women and children without hesitation. The farmers' wives resisted fiercely, but resistance was futile—each black-clad man was armed. As soon as the cold barrel of a gun was pressed against their heads, their struggles ceased, leaving them with no choice but to surrender.

Amidst the wailing cries, the black-clad men continued rounding up the captives. Their numbers far exceeded the capacity of the available jeeps. One of them turned to the doctor.

"Sir, should we transport them now?"

"Not yet. Call for several trucks from the city."

The doctor replied indifferently, "Leave a few men here to guard them. The rest will come with me to transport Patient Zero—make sure nothing goes wrong."

The cries and curses of the captured echoed through the field, but the doctor paid them no mind. His focus was solely on the blood-soaked boy, his breath heavy with anticipation.

Two men in black stepped behind Hoffa and bound his wrists and ankles with thick rope. Then, lifting him off the ground, they carried him toward the waiting jeep.

The doctor followed closely behind, cautioning them as they walked. "Be careful! Don't damage him—he's the most valuable specimen we have."

Upon reaching the jeep, the doctor personally opened the door, overseeing as Hoffa was carefully placed inside. Only when the boy was securely positioned in the back seat did the doctor finally exhale in satisfaction.

"Magnificent," he murmured, a triumphant glint in his eyes. "This is a small step for us—but a giant leap for equality."

Just as he basked in his moment of victory—

A sudden, piercing scream shattered the air.

"Sir! Look out!"

The doctor spun around, his pupils contracting to pinpoints.

From out of nowhere, a massive truck was barreling toward them at breakneck speed.

In an instant, the doctor's face was swallowed by a looming black shadow.

Faced with the sudden oncoming truck, the doctor leaped to the side and rolled on the ground. Despite his quick reflexes, he was still grazed by the massive shadow. With a sharp crack, he tumbled several meters before coming to a stop. Clutching his lower leg, he let out a frantic, pain-filled scream.

"Bastard!! Bastard!! Bastard!!"

His leg had been crushed by the truck, bent at an unnatural ninety-degree angle.

The speeding truck showed no intention of stopping. It plowed forward, dragging the broken jeep door along with it until it slammed headfirst into a tree trunk, its tires screeching wildly against the ground.

Without waiting for orders, the black-clad men raised their weapons and opened fire on the truck. Bullets rattled against the vehicle's front, riddling it with holes as thick smoke billowed into the air.

No one dared to make a sound now. Even the cursing farmwomen fell completely silent, frozen in fear.

Once the gunfire ceased, the armed men cautiously approached, weapons at the ready. They pulled open the truck's door, expecting to find the body of the crazed driver. But there was no one inside—just a wooden stick wedged firmly against the gas pedal.

"No one's here, sir!"

One of the black-clad men reported to the doctor, who was writhing in pain.

The doctor pounded the ground in frustration, cursing furiously. "Useless! Idiots! All of you are worthless! Forget about that damn truck—get back and guard Subject Zero!"

The men flinched in alarm, immediately redirecting their weapons toward the jeep with the missing door. But it was already too late.

The boy who had been restrained inside the vehicle had somehow emerged. Standing with his arms spread wide, head tilted back, he resembled a crucified figure—his posture eerily unnatural.

For a brief moment, the two sides remained locked in a tense standoff. Yet nothing strange happened. The boy simply stood there in that bizarre position.

As the men took a closer look, they soon realized why he was holding that pose.

A dust-covered girl had returned. She was standing behind him, propping up his body with her hands.

"Hoffa, can you hear me?" she whispered urgently.

"Meh…ra…"

Hoffa, his eyes rolling back, struggled to force out a few words. But the sounds were unnatural, more like the chirping of a bird than human speech.

Even so, those few syllables were enough to make the girl's eyes well up with tears. She fought to suppress her emotions and spoke softly into his ear.

"Hoffa, listen. I don't have any magic left. I can't fight them. If you can still use magic… please, take care of them."

But Hoffa's mind was lost in agony. Miranda's voice passed through his ears as meaningless noise, automatically filtered out.

Seeing no response, Miranda grew more desperate. "It's okay! Don't hesitate! These people are ruthless—they talk about equality, but their actions are anything but. Don't show them mercy. Just do it!"

Still, Hoffa remained unresponsive. Inside his head, an unseen beast rampaged wildly, destroying everything in sight.

In reality, the black-clad men slowly closed in. The doctor, panting on the ground, roared, "Seize him! Kill anyone who resists!"

The men raised their guns. Miranda's heart pounded as she urged again, "Hoffa, wake up! If you don't stop them here, we'll spend the rest of our lives in prison!"

But no matter what she said, Hoffa remained limp in her arms, as lifeless as a pile of mud.

As the armed men drew closer, Miranda glanced down at the unresponsive boy, then sighed.

"Forget it… If we're going to be locked up, so be it. As long as I can be in the same prison as you, it's not so bad."

With that, she released Hoffa's arms and stepped forward, raising her hands in surrender.

But before she could even utter a word, Hoffa's body convulsed violently.

As he spasmed, the ground trembled. A massive spike of stone suddenly burst from the earth, hurling Miranda aside.

Screams filled the air. Dozens of jagged spikes erupted from the ground, transforming the wheat field into a forest of stone thorns.

None of the black-clad men, nor the doctor, were spared—they were all impaled on the massive rock formations. However, the spikes did not kill them outright. Instead, they tore through their clothing, suspending them helplessly in midair.

Even so, sheer terror overtook the black-clad men. They fired their weapons in desperation, only to find their gun barrels twisting and warping unnaturally. The bullets detonated inside the chambers, sending deadly shrapnel into their own bodies. The men who weren't skewered by the thorns were instead maimed or killed by their own weapons.

Miranda covered her mouth, tears of joy spilling down her face. She rushed to Hoffa's side, cradling him in her arms, gently stroking his face.

"Hoffa… have you regained your memories?" she asked tenderly.

But the boy continued to spasm and writhe, his mouth opening and closing, producing hoarse, indecipherable sounds.

Miranda leaned in closer, pressing her ear to his lips, hoping to understand what he was saying.

After listening carefully, she finally made out the words he was repeating.

"Not… in the same… prison… with you…"

His voice was neither human nor beast, a sound caught between a bird's chirp and an animal's whimper.

Miranda's joyful expression slowly faded.

She fell silent.

Meanwhile, the doctor—despite being run over by the truck—was still alive.

The black-clad men had opened the driver's seat, yet they had found no one inside.

(End of Chapter)

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