Chapter 72 Shadow Town 1 (This chapter has been completely revised) Mushrooms, mushrooms...
You used a Lundu fog can.
This prop, which you held and twirled in your hands, which you wanted to use countless times but kept thinking "I'll do it next time, I'll hold on a little longer for now," was finally used by you.
With a hissing sound, a thick cloud of white mist shot out from the small nozzle, enveloping you completely.
At first, your vision is filled with a blinding white light. After blinking and adjusting to the light, everything around you will appear as if you are looking through a thin layer of misty glass—a little blurry, but still clear enough to see clearly.
He lowered his head, and before stuffing the canister back into his pocket, he subconsciously shook it. The contents, which had been full, were now jingling, enough for two more uses.
Put the props away. Silently open your mouth and breathe in and out, making sure the sound is very quiet and that no one notices you.
However, the low, damp sound that suddenly appeared behind you a few seconds ago did not disappear from its sight. Instead, it lingered like some kind of viscous liquid slowly crawling on the ground, probing the edge of the mist.
It's okay, it can't see, it can't see... You silently encourage yourself, but your back tenses up uncontrollably, and your heart is pounding in your ears. Who knows? Maybe it will jump out of your chest in the next second.
Who is the visitor?
You slowly, very slowly turn around until you are face to face with a pair of "eyes" whose recesses are filled with tiny mycelium waving.
.
What is that? Can it even be considered a person?
You swallowed hard, suppressing the sour taste rising in your throat.
As you lower your gaze, you see countless mycelia emerging not only from your eye sockets, but also from your nostrils, mouth, and ears, waving in the air like tiny tentacles.
Your pupils rolled rapidly up and down, your vision flashed black and white, and the humanoid monster that filled your entire field of vision was hunched over, its limbs twisted as if they had been forcibly broken off and then haphazardly pieced back together by some force.
Its skin was completely covered—possibly by some kind of mycelium—giving it a sickly grayish-white appearance. This shape seemed somewhat familiar; it reminded you of when you first started living alone, always buying too many mushrooms and leaving them in the refrigerator to slowly rot, growing a layer of white, spiderweb-like film.
If you look up again and meet its gaze—if you can still call it an eye—beneath the hyphae are two bottomless black holes, within which flicker a faint, spore-like fluorescence.
Perhaps your breathing changed slightly, because just as this thing was about to lift its leg to leave, it turned back again, slowly and stiffly twisting and probing beside you.
How can you be so perceptive? Your excessive fear is making you a little irritable.
"The clever slime mold." At times like these, you can't help but think of some videos you've watched—let's just call it your special talent for detaching yourself from the current scene to regain calm and rationality—about how these fungal creatures, though they have no brains or eyes, can always find their way out of a maze very quickly.
It relies on the information conveyed by spores that are constantly being released into the air.
Damn it.
These monsters were probably ordinary people in the past. Who knows if they turned into this because they inhaled these mycelium spores or other substances?
Can fog block spores?
The monster was still wriggling around just a few fists away from you, making "plop plop" sounds. You could almost imagine those tiny, invisible particles spraying into the air with every movement, telling it about any movement in the environment, and even trying to get into your mouth and nose.
You couldn't care less about anything else. You raised your hand to cover your mouth and nose, and with a nimble dodge, you ran in the opposite direction.
The monster reacted quickly, chasing after you and swaying as it ran.
When this thing runs, its arms hang down at its sides. Its bones and muscles may no longer be able to support it to lift itself up. After all, even its fingers have turned into thin bundles of mycelium, which drag on the ground like vines with each step, leaving behind trails of sticky water.
Where to run?
You weren't trying to avoid it; you just wanted to get away from it whenever you saw it.
With a quick turn and a somersault, you admire yourself for climbing onto the locker like a nimble monkey.
This was quite a commotion, and the monster quickly arrived nearby.
You quickly take out a knife from your backpack, cut a small piece of cloth from your undershirt, cut two holes in the elastic fabric, and slip it over your ears—a makeshift mask is barely complete.
...not enough.
The monster stopped less than two meters away from you, and you were perched on its head. It slowly raised its head, its distorted face now facing you. You saw its mouth slightly open, emitting a low, guttural sound, as if squeezed from deep within its throat: "...Come...come..."
Your hands didn't stop moving. Thanks to the light rain today, you were able to wear a few more layers of clothing. You cut off two more pieces of cloth, dug holes on both sides, and put them on your face.
Breathing is much more difficult now, but the tightness makes you feel like not only air, but even spores can't get in, which is very reassuring. Hmm.
During this time, the monster simply stood still, staring blankly in your direction. It seemed that its bodily functions were only capable of supporting its walking, and it could not perform any more movements.
Once your breathing is blocked by layers of fabric, it finally loses interest in you and slowly drifts away.
You waited a while longer, until you felt that the spores that might have accompanied it had been diluted by the air to the point of being harmless, before you quietly climbed down.
This is the train station. You quickly survey your surroundings and utter a meaningless, nonsensical remark.
You initially thought you'd stumbled upon a scene from an urban legend called "Kisaragi Station," and you even wondered if your reading of that post had caused this unexpected turn of events: if you had simply endured the light pollution-filled journey, perhaps the next stop would have arrived as scheduled.
Okay, thanks to the mushroom man, its existence proves that this is not "Kisaragi Station".
Even though you have no idea why such a scene and event were triggered, the presence of monsters means that there are other beings you can interact with. It's better than being like that poor poster, all alone and lost in another dimension, with no clues to find your way back.
"Let's take a look around first," you said, taking a few steps forward.
This is a combined platform with both light rail and urban rail, so the platform is built more like a "station".
The bright white lights hung sadly overhead. You quietly followed the signs posted on the wall and the ground until you turned a corner and encountered another monster.
You were prepared this time and didn't let it notice.
After going around from behind, we found ourselves facing another monster.
…In this situation, you feel you should learn more Japanese swear words to express your feelings.
You have entered the center of the station, a hall that was originally meant to accommodate crowds, but is now empty and has become a playground for a dozen monsters.
No matter how careful you are, there will always be a few monsters who will notice the rustling sound of your footsteps and chase after you.
But you can't just stand there and not move.
There's a bakery with its door ajar to the left. It's a small shop with only one door, but it seems like you can at least hide inside for a while.
Without hesitation, you stride over, slip inside, and click the door shut.
The bakery has glass walls on all four sides, so you can observe it however you want from inside.
You hear a soft rustling sound outside the door. Looking over, you see a monster rubbing its arm against the crack in the door.
You grip the knife tightly, its blade gleaming silver in the streetlights outside. You wouldn't use it to cut it; as a top-tier scholar of online videos, you certainly know that breaking open a mushroom could result in a spray of spores.
Just holding the knife makes you feel like everything is still under control, at least giving you some psychological comfort.
The sounds outside the door gradually faded, but you dared not let your guard down. Even though the fog obscured your figure, you cautiously stood up and peered outside.
There was nothing outside except for a few sticky marks on the ground.
You breathed a sigh of relief, but the next second, your pupils suddenly contracted—
A distorted face is hanging upside down in front of you.
There really is only one face.
The half-melted body was firmly stuck to the ceiling, its face skin drooping off its bones and flesh due to gravity, with only the mycelium clinging it to the ceiling.
I can't take it anymore.
You turn your face away in disgust, cursing yourself inwardly for thinking that while all the other shops were smashed, this was the only place that remained intact and peaceful.
The air inside the bakery was stuffy and damp, probably due to poor ventilation. The rotten, sweet smell was far stronger than outside, like moldy bread mixed with rotting mycelium.
You force yourself to suppress your nausea, look around, and think, since you're already here, why not see if you can find any useful clues?
Behind the bakery counter were piles of expired bread and rotten ingredients, but interestingly, none of them were covered in colorful mold. Perhaps it's a case of survival of the fittest among fungi.
There's nothing worth seeing here.
You rummage through the counter and lockers. The drawers are crammed with odds and ends: expired receipts, rusty coins, a few dull knives... until you pull open the bottom drawer and find a lighter.
The lighter's surface was somewhat worn, but it still worked. You tried pressing it, and a flame popped out with a "snap," the faint light standing out starkly in the dimly lit bakery.
You stare at that flame, a glint in your eyes. Maybe you can use this lighter to take down that monster hanging upside down from the ceiling.
You quickly find some empty flour sacks in the bakery's inventory, cut them into strips, twist them into a thick rope, and then drizzle them with olive oil that can burn even if it's expired or spoiled, making a kindling rope.
That's about it. Take a shallow breath—a deep breath is impossible—and slowly approach the upside-down monster.
Gently drape one end of the tinder rope over its mycelium, then light the other end with a lighter. The flames spread rapidly along the tinder rope, quickly igniting the monster's mycelium.
The flames shot up with a whoosh, and the monster's body began to tremble violently, emitting a sharp, deflating sound like a punctured balloon.
You've cooked mushrooms before, so you know what that sounds like.
Stop thinking about it.
You punched yourself in the face, stopping your excessive associations.
Over there, the mycelium and the human body rapidly withered in the flames, sizzling as they burned. You took a few steps back, watching the flames gradually engulf the monster, a strange sense of pleasure welling up inside you.
You know, the mycelium and spores in the station are already everywhere, so burning one monster won't change anything.
But just looking at that burning flame, you feel your breathing becomes much easier, as if all the filth in the air has been burned away by the scorching flame.
Feeling this warmth, just as you grinned and revealed a smile, the flames had already reached the wooden ceiling of the bakery.
Haha, this is a serious overreaction; the fire might get out of control now.
You rush out of the bakery, the flames behind you already engulfing the entire store. You hear a sharp roar, and turning around, you see several monsters gathering from various corners of the station towards the flames.
Their movements were stiffer than before, and the mycelium danced wildly in the air, as if attracted by flames.
You decided to turn back, disregarding the danger, and carried out several small buckets of oil, which you then scattered and lit everywhere.
Soon, the monsters that had gathered around burst into flames one after another. The menacing creatures on their bodies acted as fuses that set off the fire, burning themselves to ashes.
Not feeling too smug, you take the opportunity to run to the other end of the station. Your original intention was just to cook the thing in the bakery so you could have a small base, but since it's burned so big, it's a good opportunity. Now that most of the monsters have been wiped out, you can use this chance to find more clues at the station.
—You have no idea what the current situation is; the train station might be the whole scene.
The flames flickered in the station, casting dappled light on the surrounding walls. The station was mostly empty except for a few tattered posters plastered on the notice board.
On the poster, an elderly man with white hair and a vibrant young man hold several flowers you've never seen before, their smiles as radiant as if they were holding rare treasures. The petals of those flowers are a deep purple, with faint fluorescent edges, so beautiful they seem unreal, yet they also look so real.
Using my phone to translate, the advertising slogan on the poster was even more outrageously exaggerated: "Yinghua—a miracle of nature, a guardian of health! Antibacterial, antiviral, and longevity-promoting, all in Yinghua!"
You couldn't help but frown, a hint of irony rising in your heart.
Below the advertisement, a line of small print perfectly illustrates the eerie feeling in your heart, appearing particularly jarring: "Exclusively developed and sold by Huaying Pharmaceutical Company."
To be honest, this poster is full of the message "Agricultural products are unsold, please help us!" But upon closer inspection, the merchants seem to be just shady, large-scale agricultural businesses.
Despite the complaints, this shadowy image must contain some crucial information.
I took out my phone and took a picture of the poster as evidence, since you definitely wouldn't dare touch it with your hands.
Now there's only one question: what is the relationship between this flower and that monster that is clearly parasitized by fungi?
You're not a science or engineering major, but you probably don't know any mushrooms that look like flowers, right?
It's really hard to say.
You circled the station a few more times, trying to find more clues, but apart from this poster, you found no other useful information.
I took another deep breath and knew I had no choice but to leave the station.
Although the place is abandoned, the buildings are still relatively intact. Finding the exit is not difficult; natural light pours down right in front of you, yet you feel a shiver run down your spine as the wind blows, and you instinctively pull your coat tighter around yourself before stepping out of the station.
However, the scene before you instantly froze you in place.
Outside the station, it was a scene straight out of hell.
Countless monsters roamed the streets, their bodies twisted and deformed in the same way, and their grayish-white mycelium reflected the sunlight, giving off a sparkling gem-like quality.
They just wander around randomly, yet you feel like your eyes are being blinded.
But the moment you step out of the station, they all turn their heads and "look" at you.
You feel a tightness in your throat, and alarm bells are ringing in your ears.
That's when you realize something's wrong.
Your vision is now crystal clear, and you can't find any other reason than that the thick fog that had been firmly concealing your presence was blown away by the sudden gust of wind.
Almost reflexively, you quickly press the nozzle of the mist can, and a thick mist instantly gushes out, enveloping your entire body.
But then, for no apparent reason, the wind blew again, scattering the fog and exposing your figure to the air once more.
Your heart sank.
Is it that the area outside the station is not a place you should set foot in, or is the station perhaps a kind of "waiting area," while the area outside the station is the real "official area"?
Gaseous canisters, used as a form of cheating, are not permitted here. You grip the canister tightly, your fingertips slightly cold, and a strong sense of unease rises within you.
Without the cover of the fog, you feel as if you are standing naked in front of these monsters. They move slowly, but there are simply too many of them.
Without the fog's inherent blurring filter, you can clearly see their mycelial tendrils dancing in the air, a large group of glowing, ugly, humanoid mushrooms swarming towards you like bulls. You can even hear the squelching sounds they make as their limbs squeeze together...
Help.
You instinctively took a step back, but your heel bumped into the station wall.
You have nowhere to retreat.
Just then, a cold hand suddenly grabbed your wrist from behind.
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Author's Note: I apologize for the late update. I've been dissatisfied with this chapter since last weekend. Initially, I wanted to write about Kisaragi Station, but after writing over 7,000 words, I felt it wasn't scary enough and was too cliché, given that it's an overused element... so I abandoned it. I thought about it for two days and decided to try something similar to Junji Ito, which led to the original chapter. I wrote it enthusiastically and posted it happily. The next chapter was a sequel of over 5,000 words about a spiraling story under the watchful eye of a human-headed balloon. But as I wrote, I realized it was just a patchwork of Junji Ito's work; even in fanfiction, it would be considered plagiarism... I suddenly felt lost. I didn't even make it onto the last ranking and ended up on the blacklist. I didn't know how to revise the foreshadowing or the story's direction. Then I combined the foreshadowing I'd already laid to write a typical train station survival ghost story about a female ghost in a locker, but that felt boring... Finally, this is the one I'm most satisfied with. After all, I've been holding back for so long, and if I didn't write it now, I'd have to wait until next year (what?). Anyway, thank you, everyone! !like! !
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