The blonde teenager's head, without any warning, began to stretch upward.
It was as if an invisible hand were pinching his head and pulling it up, like kneading a piece of soft candy.
Everyone watched helplessly as a living person's skull dislocated with a faint crack, and then his neck stretched out.
Its normal length instantly tripled, the skin stretching so thin that the blue veins beneath were clearly visible.
Next was his head—his forehead, chin, and cheeks... His originally round, mean face was stretched into a long, thin strip.
The stretching process lasted less than a second.
The blonde teenager's head was already half a meter long, with the thinnest part only as thick as a wrist.
The skin was so thin it was nearly transparent, revealing the pale pink brain tissue inside.
And then—
“Bang.”
A muffled bang.
It wasn't deafening, yet in the dead silence of the carriage, it erupted like a clap of thunder.
Heads popped and exploded in the enclosed space.
Like ripe watermelons bursting.
His head exploded from the very top.
Warm blood, milky-white brain matter, and tiny bone fragments instantly splattered in all directions.
The sticky, warm liquid splattered onto the dark blue seats and the dust-covered windows.
It even splattered onto the faces, bodies, and hair of the nearby passengers.
Yet the corpse remained standing in its previous posture, as if it hadn't realized its head was gone.
A moment later, as if all its bones had been sucked out, it collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thud.
Blood was still bubbling out of the severed neck.
Dark red blood flowed along the grooves of the floor to the lower areas, quickly pooling into a small, dark red puddle.
It was sticky and carried a heavy, metallic scent of rust.
Next came the second, and the third.
“Bang!”
“Bang!”
“Bang.”
The entire carriage instantly fell into a dead silence.
All sound ground to a halt.
Everyone had their mouths agape.
Everyone watched it all happen with blank, dazed expressions.
Silence.
A dead silence that lasted for nearly five minutes.
In the entire carriage, only the rumbling of the train and the buzzing hum of the fluorescent lights remained.
Some didn't even attempt to wipe the unidentified brain matter from their faces.
No one could process what had happened. No one could utter a single word, not even a single syllable.
When a scene so bizarre and beyond comprehension appeared before their eyes, everyone's mind went completely blank.
There wasn't even time for the emotion of “fear” to surface.
Like penned lambs suddenly seeing the executioner's blade fall.
How could lambs, who spent their days eating lush grass and living happily, know in what manner or from where the slaughtering knife would strike?
Yet, this day had arrived without any warning.
And so, the lambs broke down.
...
...
...
...
Screams finally erupted.
“He's dead! He's dead! Dead!”
“Someone help us! Save us!”
“Blood! So much blood! So much blood!”
“Oh my God!!”
“Ahhhhh!!”
“Ugh... vomit...”
...
Over twenty people in the carriage screamed in unison, men shouting hysterically, women wailing shrilly—
Several people bent over, gripping the seats as they vomited uncontrollably.
The sour stench, mixed with the heavy smell of blood and the greasy odor of fish sandwiches, filled the sealed carriage, making it absolutely nauseating.
Ignoring the chaos, the ink-wash text appeared equally in everyone's vision:
【Welcome to the Instance: London Death Subway.】
【Current total players in Instance: 137/150.】
【Instance Type: Horror Escape.】
【Main Quest: Survive.】
【Hint: This is a train running on the boundary between the human world and hell.
Any living being who accidentally enters this place must reach Platform 13 if they wish to return to the human world.
The train undergoes a mysterious change every night.
Carriages 4, 8, and 12 are dining car safe zones, where you can obtain brief peace and redeem items with points.
Your sole objective: Survive.
The first night is about to begin.】
...
Even though they were blocky Chinese characters, everyone present understood the meaning of every single word.
It was as if the words were imprinted directly into their brains.
But for all but a few, the breakdown continued.
A young man in a gray hoodie rushed to the train door like a madman, clawing at the gap between the doors with both hands as he shrieked at the top of his lungs:
“Let me out! Let me out! This is a nightmare! I want to wake up! Damn it, damn it!”
His fingernails split and bled, but the door didn't budge.
Someone picked up a fire extinguisher and swung it hard against the window glass.
“Don't break it!”
Zhao Weilai immediately called out to stop them, but she was a step too late.
The moment the metal head of the fire extinguisher shattered the window glass—
“Bang.”
Another identical, muffled pop.
The man's head exploded once more without any warning.
Blood and brain matter splattered onto the thick window glass, sliding down its smooth surface.
Endless crying and screaming filled the carriage. Someone frantically banged on the door leading to the next carriage, only to pop like a balloon as well.
The successive deaths did not deter the crazed crowd.
They screamed, they wailed, and they went hysterically mad.
...
...
Zhao Weilai had dropped beneath the seats at the very first moment. Even though the tips of her hair were practically soaking in blood, she didn't care.
Where did the attacks come from?
What were the rules of the Instance?
Countless thoughts flashed through her mind, and the urge to “survive” grew stronger and stronger.
More troublesomely, the ordinary people in this carriage had now completely broken down.
A chaotic crowd was sometimes far more dangerous than ghosts and monsters.
She forced herself to cover her ears to block out the tragic scene outside, only to find a few other smart individuals crouching beneath the seats diagonally across from her.
Only when it was completely quiet outside did Zhao Weilai tentatively crawl up, looking at the carriage with a mixture of terror and lingering fear.
The floor was covered in sticky red blood, and over a dozen headless corpses were piled haphazardly on top of one another.
A lot of suspicious tissue clung to the windows and seats. Fragments of eyeballs and shredded skin hung conspicuously on the glass.
Zhao Weilai ultimately couldn't hold it in and vomited.
The others just watched as she retched violently, looking as if she were about to throw up her entire stomach.
...
...
...
The screaming in the carriage finally stopped.
Quite a few people, terrified to their absolute limits, could no longer make any sound at all.
“Everyone, please listen carefully. We are no longer on the actual London Underground.
This is a highly dangerous, supernatural Instance, and more lethal dangers will arrive very soon.”
Once Zhao Weilai finished vomiting, she stood up with tears in her eyes and comforted the remaining survivors:
“I'm a veteran player who has survived previous Instances.
If you want to live, stay calm, follow my instructions, and do not act on your own.”
This time, no one questioned or refuted her.
...
...
...
In Carriage 2, where Weng Yang was, the scene was also a living hell.
She curled up in a corner, observing the status of the surviving players.
The Instance had provided far too little information.
The rules only mentioned reaching Platform 13, and that Carriages 4, 8, and 12 were dining car safe zones where they could redeem items with points.
Aside from that, she knew absolutely nothing about the specific rules, the types of ghosts, or the source of danger.
The first night was about to begin, and no one knew what would happen.
There were only about ten living, breathing people left in the carriage.
However, most of them were slumped in their seats, curled into tight balls.
Some had unfocused eyes, some were sobbing softly, and some were trembling all over, continuously praying to God for protection.
They were completely frightened out of their wits.
Was the quest guiding veteran players to introduce the Instance to newcomers just to help more of them survive?
Then why did such things as Instances exist in the first place?
Or was the Instance actually a screening process to generate more players?
...
...
In a sense, Weng Yang had hit upon the truth.
Outside the Instance, Song Mo watched everything.
Her expression was filled with a sense of pity that even she herself hadn't noticed.
In the next second, as if some program were self-correcting or emotions were being overwritten, Song Mo's eyes returned to a calm, flat state.
She was the planner, and also the observer.
She had created everything, yet she simply stood by and watched.
Rate on N.U.
