The Expert’s Escape from the Alien Factory

Upon stepping into the luminous circle, a sharp gust of wind lashed toward Eric's face. Instinctively, she dodged, but a deep gash still split her cheek.

"Heavens! Are you alright? How could you space out like that? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" someone yanked her aside. "Run faster!"

Though her face throbbed with pain, Eric's endurance had been tempered by the previous dungeon. She sprinted in the direction of the pull, her ears filled with the chaotic rhythm of footsteps. As she ran, she surveyed her surroundings: a corridor stretched before her, with a wall to her left and shattered windows to her right. Through the broken panes, she glimpsed the dense night outside—and within it, the glint of crimson eyes.

Danger!

The injury on her right cheek confirmed the threat had come from beyond the window.

Eric quickened her pace.

The corridor was teeming with people, all in a frantic evacuation. Unaware of the situation, Eric decided to follow the NPCs to safety.

"Hurry! We're almost there!"

A long, sinuous tentacle shot through the window, piercing the skull of an NPC ahead of Eric. The unfortunate soul was struck down instantly, not even a cry escaping their lips.

"Ah!" The other NPCs screamed in terror. Some bolted faster, while others froze in fear.

The tentacle appeared and vanished with lightning speed, leaving Eric no time to discern its true form.

Could it be like the zombie hounds from the previous dungeon, with tongues as weapons?

No time for analysis. The thought flickered through Eric's mind as she continued to run. She followed the others around a corner, only to face another long corridor. At its end stood an open iron door, its sturdy material evident even from a distance. The leading NPCs had already entered—clearly, that was their destination.

Eric accelerated.

Screams echoed from behind, but Eric didn't look back. She dashed through the iron door at full speed, bending over to catch her breath. Turning around, she saw a grotesque creature, resembling a cockroach, leap into view from the corner. Multiple jointed limbs extended from its back, anchoring it to the wall as it let out a guttural roar: "Bzzz—"

With a powerful thrust, it launched itself onto the last NPC in the line.

"Ah!"

Its limbs ensnared the NPC tightly. The creature lowered its head, its sharp, blade-like tongue plunging into the NPC's skull.

"Slurp—"

The sound of brain matter being sucked echoed eerily amidst the chaos, sending a phantom pain through Eric's own skull.

"It's here! The alien's inside!" the NPCs panicked. "Close the door! Close it now!"

"Wait! Don't close it yet!"

A few NPCs remained outside, their faces pale with desperation as they pleaded for the door to stay open. Those inside, witnessing the alien's gruesome feast, screamed in terror: "Close it now! The alien's coming in!"

More aliens emerged from the corner, swarming like a congregation of giant mantises. Their sheer numbers sent shivers down Eric's spine. They moved with alarming speed, covering meters in mere blinks. The corridor was too short for their leaps. Eric rushed to the door, joining the NPCs in heaving the heavy iron barrier shut.

The door groaned as it inched closed.

"Push! One, two, three! Push!"

More hands joined the effort, and the door gradually sealed. A few NPCs managed to squeeze through the narrowing gap.

Bang!

The door slammed shut. In that instant, a scream pierced the air as an alien lunged, its jointed limbs striking the door like flying daggers, only to be thwarted by the iron barrier.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

More aliens pounded against the door, their impacts resonating sharply. Eric listened to the cacophony, her mind racing. What kind of creatures were these, capable of producing such metallic clangs upon impact? She doubted even her cleaver could sever a single one of their limbs.

"Wah…"

The surviving NPCs collapsed to the floor, weeping in relief.

Finally, Eric had a moment to observe her surroundings. The NPCs wore blue work uniforms, while she and a few others did not—they exchanged knowing glances, silently acknowledging each other as players.

This time, there were twenty-seven players—a considerable number.

Among them were newcomers, utterly bewildered by their predicament, their voices rising in frantic questions.

The NPCs, unable to comprehend, assumed the new player had been frightened into madness and sought to comfort her: "Rescue will surely arrive soon. You are experts in alien research; help is bound to come."

"Experts?" Eric pondered the term. So the players had been cast into the role of specialists this time?

"What experts? I'm just a laborer." The speaker appeared to be a gaunt man in his forties or fifties, his sallow face etched with the lines of years of toil. "Where on earth are we? I clearly remember being dead…"

Eric's thoughts drifted to a classmate's father from high school. When he once brought clothes and fruit to her, some kids sneered in secret, "He must be a laborer—so lowly." Their words hurt the classmate deeply, but Eric had stood up for her, scorning those cruel remarks. She envied that classmate; however humble their parents' work, to have one's own parents still alive was a blessing, never scorned.

"Calm down," Eric approached, offering reassurance and a brief explanation of the game. "Do you have family you cherish? Hold on—we might revive and see them again."

Brandon looked dazed. "Are you serious? I fell off a scaffold—surely my head was crushed. How could I still be alive?"

Eric nodded firmly: "You are."

Tears brimmed in Brandon's eyes, wavering between laughter and sorrow. "I'll do my best…I want to live…" He turned aside to wipe his tears.

To prevent newcomers from disrupting the dungeon, veteran players took turns explaining the situation to the fresh arrivals.

Soon, nearly thirty players gathered—a considerable assembly.

"The NPCs say rescue is on the way; we do not need to leave yet."

"But based on previous dungeons, we cannot safely linger here until then. Something will surely go wrong."

"We must save ourselves. Let's gather information from the NPCs."

Inquiry proved easy; the NPCs, lamenting their plight, recounted the tale in full.

This was a biochemical factory. Recently, alien eggs embedded within meteorites hatched inadvertently in the lab. Due to experimental errors, the aliens escaped and proliferated wildly, seizing control and slaughtering the workers.

Three hours prior, the factory spiraled into chaos. Laboratory experts and assistants fled and hid; workers scattered. The current refuge was the factory's last safe room—all others had fallen. Worse still, the final guards perished escorting the survivors, leaving them defenseless.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" relentless pounding sounded at the gate. Eric knew the aliens lurked just outside. When the door gave way, it would spell doom for them all.

Within the safe room lay scant supplies—food, water, medicine—but no weapons. Eric considered dismantling a chair for armament but had no means. She resorted to tucking her fruit knife into her sleeve for self-defense.

"When will rescue come…"

The weary NPCs trembled in anxious anticipation, while Eric and the players began plotting escape.

From questioning the NPCs, Eric learned the safe room possessed a hidden back exit.

"The back door opens near the cafeteria—but that area is also unsafe," the deputy factory manager warned.

No matter how perilous, fleeing after the safe room was breached would be too late.

Eric located the rear exit and lay in wait for the opportune moment.

Most veteran players shared this resolve; only a few veterans and most newcomers refused to leave.

"This room seems sturdy. The monsters shouldn't be able to get in, right?"

"Didn't you hear? This is the last safe room—all others have fallen. Wonder how they did so? Whatever—you're free to stay."

Outside, the commotion never ceased. At dawn, the heavy door vibrated ominously.

"Could the door collapse?" an NPC feared.

One curious NPC approached to touch the door—then screamed.

Eric peered over and saw a protrusion forming on the door's surface.

This was just the beginning. More bumps appeared—one, two… over a dozen!

"Heavens, the door's being pierced by the aliens!"

The survivors gasped in terror.

Eric winced, imagining how sharp and resilient the aliens' limbs must be to pierce the sturdy door so relentlessly. Even wielding her cleaver for three days straight wouldn't suffice.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The banging grew louder; the protrusions sharpened. Eric knew the limbs would soon pierce through, granting the aliens passage. They could no longer wait. If the door fell, hundreds would surge out in a desperate stampede—a terrifying prospect.

The moment to flee had arrived. Eric asked the others if they would escape; about eighty percent agreed.

They opened the back door, but no one wished to lead the way, shoving in hesitation.

Eric said nothing and stepped forward resolutely, her senses sharpening to face the impending danger.

The back passage was narrow, permitting only one at a time. Eric silently thanked her choice to leave the safe room first.

At the end awaited a small locked door. Eric prepared to open it and whispered, "I'm opening the door."

"Go ahead."

She nodded and yanked it open forcefully.

Chilly morning air seeped inside through the crack. Peering cautiously, Eric saw no sign of aliens. She pushed the door fully open and carefully stepped outside.

Whoosh!

Suddenly, a sharp, slicing sound split the air. Eric's reflexes outpaced the threat; she rolled away swiftly from where she had stood.

"Ah!"

Blood sprayed. Eric lifted her eyes to see a long jointed limb pierce a player's abdomen behind her. The limb curled, impaling and hoisting the player aloft. Eric's gaze followed to an alien perched atop the cafeteria's dishwashing awning, casually skewering a hapless player as effortlessly as one would a piece of cake.

"Ah!" A terrified shriek broke from an unknown new player. Eric cursed silently, scrambled to her feet, and dashed into the distance.

"Run!"