Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Then, he felt weightless, floating up and down in the air as the sunlight streaming through the window transformed into a vast expanse of seawater. The papers and notebook on the desk became a blurry white mass.

An Zhe blinked his eyes. He didn't feel uncomfortable; instead, he sensed that every movement was incredibly slow and ethereal. He couldn't control his body, as if he were soaring through the air or about to plummet downward.

After that, the world before his eyes gradually darkened, and he lost consciousness entirely.

He awoke to the chill—lifting his gaze, he found the endless gray buildings outside the window bathed in the golden afterglow of the setting sun. At least seven or eight hours had passed since he fell asleep—no, passed out. It seemed that the toxicity of his mycelium induced sleepiness.

The temperature in the room had dropped significantly since the daylight hours. Lying back on the bed, An Zhe wrapped himself in the blankets to regain warmth. But once the numbness from the cold dissipated, he grew hungry again.

An Zhe preferred to absorb nutrients through mushrooms, but he hadn't encountered even a speck of moist soil throughout his journey through the base. Thus, he had no choice but to eat. Humans were troublesome creatures, and he furrowed his brow.

Fortunately, An Ze's residual memories directed him to where meals were served. The base was divided into eight zones, with Zones 6, 7, and 8 primarily serving as residential areas. In these zones, each building functioned as a community, with a communal hall on the ground floor providing water and food at designated times. Children under sixteen received free rations, while adults above that age needed to use a card to pay in the base's currency, denoted by the letter R.

The hall wasn't crowded, with roughly fifty people visible at first glance. There were only two food stalls, one offering a paste-like substance made from some plant's tuber, and the other... a soup cooked from the same plant. Scouring his memory, he vaguely recalled that this plant was called a potato.

An Zhe swiped his card to pay.

Mashed potatoes, priced at 0.5, balance remaining 9.5.

Potato soup, 0.3 in cost, leaving a balance of 9.2.

An Zhe fixated on the digit that represented his card's balance, realizing he would be teetering on the brink of starvation within days. The sensation was like a mushroom struggling to survive in arid soil, with death lurking around the corner.

This sense of vulnerability became even more acute after he returned to the fifth floor, having spent 0.1R to draw water from the communal tap.

Thus, another task was added to his list: securing a source of income.

After securely screwing the lid back onto the standard stainless steel flask, An Zhe held it in his hands, preparing to turn around when a voice suddenly echoed behind him, intrusive in the confined space.

"An Ze?"

The voice was loud and quivered, reverberating through the narrow corridor.

An Zhe turned.

Standing in the hallway was a young man, tall and handsome, with his eyes widened as he stared intently at An Zhe. His lips trembled, making it difficult to discern whether his expression conveyed delight or astonishment.

"An Ze?" he called again. "You... you're back? Weren't you—"

His voice trailed off, his face turning a shade of blue as if he was unsure how to proceed.

But An Zhe knew what he wanted to say, for he knew this person. His name was Joshua.

Joshua was An Ze's neighbor and friend; they had grown up together. Sometimes, Joshua would look out for An Ze, while more often than not, it was the other way around – these scattered memories resurfaced before An Zhe.

Yet, his knowledge of Joshua wasn't solely derived from An Ze's recollections. He had encountered this man even when he was a mushroom. His own sights combined with An Ze's memories precisely filled in the blanks about the true cause of An Ze's demise.

An Ze was a man who earned his living through words, penning novels, essays, or poems for people's amusement. These works were submitted to the base, which periodically published them in small booklets. However, three months ago, due to the dwindling workforce and resources, the base abolished this department.

At that time—

"What book are you reading, An Ze?" Joshua asked.

"I'm preparing for the selection exam to work at the supply station," An Ze scribbled on the pages with his pen. "I think I'd enjoy the job content, and the salary is decent."

Upon hearing this, Joshua furrowed his brows.

"You want to escape your commoner life?" he asked. "The exam is tough."

An Ze replied, "It's alright."

"An Ze," his tone turned severe, "you knew all along that I wanted to go on expeditions with you."

An Ze smiled, his voice gentle as if soothing a stubborn friend, yet tinged with a hint of resignation. "I'm not fit for the outdoors."

"I'll protect you," Joshua said, putting an arm around his shoulder and softening his voice. "I can't be without you. Come with me on the expedition. We won't go to dangerous places."

The memories played out similarly. Eventually, under Joshua's persistent persuasion, An Ze agreed to embark on the adventure together. Joshua was part of a large mercenary group, and with his many accomplishments, he smoothly arranged for An Ze to join them, managing supplies and logistics.

But in the wilderness, anything could happen. On that day, their convoy lost its way and veered towards the edge of the abyss. By the time they realized the abnormal abundance of mushrooms, it was too late. The monsters of the abyss wouldn't let any prey slip by.

For humans, even the very outskirts of the abyss were terrifying. Three of the five armored vehicles were destroyed, and the people inside frantically transferred to the remaining ones. During their escape, An Ze pushed Joshua, barely saving him from the winged monsters. However, An Ze stumbled on the vines on the ground.

Joshua froze for a second. In that instant, the instinct to survive overpowered everything else. He chose to save himself, sprinting forward and being pulled onto the armored vehicle by the captain—while at that moment, An Ze watched their departing figures as he was impaled by a monster's bone spike through his chest.

The mercenaries fought fiercely with their strongest firepower, retreating as they battled. Their commotion woke An Zhe up halfway through their retreat—he had been searching for spores but always returned empty-handed. This time, however, taking advantage of the intense fight, he quietly carried An Ze back to a cave deep within the mountains.

In this moment, standing before Joshua, An Zhe had nothing to say. When faced with death, any creature's first instinct is to flee, and Joshua hadn't done anything wrong. Still, An Zhe didn't like him.

"You... You're a little different," Joshua's Adam's apple moved stiffly. "Are your injuries healed? Did you escape from the Abyss?"

An Zhe merely looked at him calmly.

"No, you're not An Ze," Joshua took a sudden step back, his face pale. "You're an Aberration."

"Sorry," An Zhe walked past him nonchalantly. "I accidentally ate a poisonous mushroom and can't quite recall who you are."