NOVEL NEXT Chapter 67: Old Dog
Ego silently complied, sealing the ramp shut. Zack watched, his face unreadable, as the helicopter rose into the sky, carrying them all away.
"If you're so keen on using people for experiments…" Zack muttered, his tone calm but cutting. "Then you should experience it yourself... what it feels like to be a guinea pig."
With the hatch secured, the helicopter began to rise under Ego's control, heading toward the Mansion as planned. Zack, however, didn't leave immediately. Instead, he sought out the dancer. "What's your plan now?" he asked, his voice steady, almost indifferent.
"I…" The dancer hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. Then, cautiously, she asked, "Can I… follow you?" The words were barely out of her mouth before she regretted them.
"No," Zack replied flatly, his answer exactly what she had expected. He didn't sugarcoat it. "You should know your situation. Honestly, I'm not even sure myself if you're still human."
His bluntness was like a knife cutting through any lingering hope. He gestured toward the survivors in the lab. "Even if I wanted to take you in, look at them. Do you think you can ever be part of human society again?"
The survivors stared at the dancer with wide, fearful eyes. To them, she was no different from the monsters they had barely escaped. The dancer lowered her head, her hands trembling. "I… I understand," she whispered.
The weight of Zack's words crushed her spirit. She had survived Dr. Samson's experiments and accepted her warped reality, stubbornly clinging to the belief that she was still human—not a monster. But now, that belief felt fragile. "Even though I can't take you in," Zack said suddenly, his tone softening just enough to catch her attention, "I can offer you a job."
Her head snapped up, hope igniting in her eyes. "Really? I'll do anything you ask!"
"Don't get too excited," Zack replied, his voice calm. "Before I tell you what the job is, there's something I need you to do first."
"Anything! Just say it, and I'll—"
"Kill them."
Zack's words hit her like a thunderclap. He pointed at the survivors huddled in the corner, his expression cold and unreadable. "What?" The dancer froze, her face paling. The survivors, sensing the shift, tried to retreat, but the Vulcan machine gun mounted on Zack's shoulder locked onto them, stopping them in their tracks.
"Why?" the dancer asked, her voice shaking. These people were just like her—victims of Samson's twisted experiments.
"No reason." Zack's voice was as emotionless as ever, but there was a cruel edge to it. "This is your test. You either follow me, or you don't."
The dancer stared at the trembling survivors, her sharp lower limbs twitching hesitantly. If these had been Samson's lackeys, she wouldn't have thought twice. But these were innocent people, just like her. "I…" Her mind raced. Loyalty or humanity? Zack or the survivors? In the end, she made her choice.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, raising her sharp limbs and lunging toward the corner.
"Ahhhh!" The survivors screamed, cowering.
CLANG!
Her attack was suddenly stopped by the blade of Zack's chainsaw sword. The motor was off, but the weight of the weapon pressed down on her limbs. "Congratulations," Zack said coolly, withdrawing the blade. "You passed the interview."
The dancer blinked in confusion, her limbs still raised. "What…?"
"This is your job," Zack explained, tossing her a communicator. "When I say kill, you kill. Don't hesitate next time."
He turned and walked away without another glance, ignoring the terrified survivors entirely. Not long after, Zack, in his full suit, overtook the helicopter traveling toward the Mansion. He arrived first, diving through the garage entrance at high speed and landing directly in the basement.
The moment he touched down, he saw dozens of Ant scuttling about, busy constructing new spiders. A completed spider stood nearby, its sleek form glinting under the basement lights. "We need more," Zack said, instructing Ego as the AI helped him remove his armor. "Stop spider production for now. Focus on increasing Ants numbers."
As the last piece of armor was removed, Zack stretched his joints, grabbed a vial of chlorophyll juice from a mechanical arm, and downed it in one gulp. "Once we have enough, we'll start on Air Fortress and air defense systems."
Leaving the basement, Zack collected five new spiders and five mechanical Ant. As he stepped outside, he bumped into Annie. "You're back!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up. But seeing Zack's focused expression, she quickly stepped aside, too perceptive to interrupt him.
In the basement of Mansion No. 9, several mechanical Ants assisting with production abruptly dropped their tasks and rushed over at Zack's command. The harsh sounds of cutting and welding grew louder, echoing through the Mansion. From time to time, a mechanical ant could be seen scuttling out of the Mansion, carrying heaps of discarded materials. Moments later, it would return, loaded with fresh metal components. Despite the frenzy, their movements were precise and orderly, giving the appearance of a well-rehearsed routine.
Under the efforts of dozens of mechanical Ants, the once-luxurious Mansion was quickly becoming unrecognizable. The doors and windows were sealed tight, transforming the Mansion into a fully enclosed structure. Inside, unnecessary walls were torn down to create larger, open spaces. Detachable fixtures were systematically removed, leaving the interior bare and functional. Every modification was carried out swiftly and efficiently under Zack's orders.
Meanwhile, a transport helicopter appeared in the sky not far from the Mansion. As it slowed and began its descent toward Mansion No. 13, the six passengers inside, cramped and aching from the bumpy ride, stirred with renewed energy.
"Hey, Old Dog! Can you see if we're about to land?" one of them called out.
The man referred to as Old Dog—a grim-faced, middle-aged man who had earlier suggested stealing Zack's armor—shifted uncomfortably and craned his neck to peer out of the small window. His expression quickly shifted from blankness to astonishment, then to excitement.
"What is it? What do you see?" another asked, noticing the change in his demeanor.
"Mansions! Big, fancy Mansions!" Old Dog exclaimed, his voice trembling with excitement. "We might each get a place to ourselves!"
"Seriously?" The others leaned closer, their imaginations running wild. They envisioned luxurious lives ahead, fueled by the idea of taking Zack's armor and seizing control of his resources.
The helicopter descended steadily and landed smoothly on the lawn in front of Mansion No. 13. The six passengers were practically buzzing with anticipation, dreaming of their newfound riches and freedom. But as the cabin door slid open, their fantasies shattered in an instant. Standing outside were five cold, metallic machines, their sharp, gleaming legs aimed menacingly at the passengers.
"Come down and get to work," Zack's voice called out, calm and emotionless. To their dismay, Zack had removed his armor, but there was no relief to be found.
"Okay, okay! We're coming!" the six stammered, their bravado vanishing. Despite their aching bodies, they scrambled off the helicopter as if fleeing for their lives. Under the watchful, glowing eyes of the mechanical spiders, they began unloading the helicopter.
"Move quickly," Zack said from a distance, his tone indifferent. "Finish unloading tonight, and I might reward you with individual rooms."
"Yes! Right away!" they replied in unison, their voices shaking. Fear of the spiders drove them to work harder, far more than the promise of single rooms.
"This is all your fault!" one of them hissed, glaring at Old Dog as they hauled heavy equipment.