However, the other half of the slime showed no signs of drying up. It clung to Quill's skin as if it were alive, refusing to fall off.
A terrifying fierceness was unleashed from within this somewhat aloof and simple-looking boy. Quill reached for the Daggers at his waist, clasping it in a proper grip, and he slashed a gaping wound across the skin encrusted with the slime.
Then, Quill plunged his hand into the wound, peeled off the entire skin layer with a "srip" sound, leaving it atop the slime, before wavering slightly as he rose to his feet.
This decisive action saved his life.
Because in the next second, the metal plate overhead, burdened under the weight of the countless hatching eggs, fell with a "bang," followed by the "splash, splash" sound of slime pouring out.
Quill gasped for breath, not even pausing to look at his profusely bleeding arm, pivoted on his heels and ran in the direction of the indicator light.
As he passed the indicator and peered into the deeper darkness, he heard a familiar voice, swearing in a language he didn't understand.
"Rocket, Rocket! I'm here!" Quill yelled.
Quill rushed over to find a small figure by the door's chair; obviously, he was also trapped in the slime.
"The damn Doctor has gone mad! He threw us into Hell! I shouldn't have listened to him!" Rocket Raccoon grabbed his own tail and mumbled in a low voice, shivering his whiskers as he saw Quill.
"Don't worry about that right now." Quill drew his Dagger, and with a "swoosh" sound, he shaved off the fur on Rocket Raccoon's tail. Luckily, the raccoon's skin wasn't stuck to the slime, so he escaped successfully, losing only a tuft of fur in the process.
He hopped onto Quill's shoulder in two leaps, then said in a loud voice by his ear: "Peter, I have to apologize to you! I fell for the trap of a wicked Doctor, he had me use medicine to lure you into the tower!"
Rocket Raccoon's voice was as shrill as a malfunctioning cassette tape, but Quill silenced him with a gesture, and listened carefully.
"Pitter patter, pitter patter…"
The sound was still far away, but it was gradually approaching at a slow pace. Quill's eyes darted around and he said, "The slime that traps us is very viscous, it's definitely not saliva or anything like that."
Suddenly, his pupils contracted sharply as he blurt out a word: "Venus flytrap...run!!!"
Just as Quill took off with a sprint, a pungent, acidic wave rushed in from the rear carriage. The splashes were filled with countless insect shells, hooked feet, and eyes with even feathery lashes.
But Quill suddenly stopped because he was already in the cockpit. He glanced from left to right, shouted, "Hold tight!!"
"Bang!!!"
Quill rushed out directly from the side window, crashing on the concrete along with the broken glass. But he didn't pause even for a moment, scrambling and rolling to the corner instead.
Then, leaning against the wall and gasping for breath, he watched as the massive maggots that looked like tumor growths wrapped around the train, spraying their gastric juices inside and sweeping everything within to their stomach. After that, they left a new layer of slime, awaiting their next batch of prey.
Leaning against the wall, Quill breathed heavily, turned his head towards Rocket Raccoon and asked, "What did you mean by 'Doctor'?"
"I, I…" It seemed difficult for Rocket Raccoon to speak, but he finally muttered: "Those Illusions you saw earlier, like tree roots and such things, were actually because of the drugs."
Rocket Raccoon extended one of his claws, and Quill saw a tiny nozzle between them. Rocket Raccoon retracted his trembling claw and said, "The Doctor refers to the drugs as 'Fear Gas.' Just a tiny dose is enough to engulf a person with fear."
"So, it was you who tricked us into coming here?"
"Damn it, I had no idea he was going to do that! I thought his tests just involved stuffing some monsters into the tower-like building, or maybe navigating a maze. But he has gone too far!"
With a hanging head that seemed burdened with guilt, Rocket Raccoon appeared to expect Quill's scolding. But Quill pressed his head down again and said, "Hush... can you hear it?"
"What?"
"Pitter patter, pitter patter…"
The sound was getting closer. Quill felt his hair stand on end, but he could see nothing in the darkness. He looked to his left and right, not even the backpack, let alone the climbing bag, was there. He didn't even have a light to aid them.
At this juncture, Rocket Raccoon extended his other claw and a beam of light appeared. He looked up at Quill and said, "Whatever you decide with me after we get out of here alive, is fine. But we need to get out of this place first."
"I also think the same."
Quill carefully listened to the source of the sound, then pointed behind Rocket Raccoon and said, "There, there's something..."
Rocket Raccoon swiftly turned his head, shining the light from his claw towards where Quill was pointing, but aside from the damp tunnel wall, there was nothing else.
"No, no, no." Quill, suffering from a mental strain due to the disconnect between his senses and reality, closed his eyes tightly. He grabbed Rocket Raccoon and staggered to run in the opposite direction to where the sound was coming from.
"What exactly did you see?"
"I didn't see anything!"
"Then why are you running?"
"Because I can't see anything!"
Quill took Rocket Raccoon with him and ran all the way, running up the subway station, past the ticket gates, and quickly up the shutdown elevator.
The moment he saw the light again, what appeared in front of Quill was a grand sunset in a world devoured by monsters.
The golden light shone on the ink-covered feather pen tip. As the pen tip gently touched the paper, even the text turned golden. However, the content written on it sank deeper and deeper into the darkness.
"Twilight is often called the Moment of Devils, but I have never seen such an evil and terrifying sight in any twilight. The canvas of the sky and the earth is occupied by monsters, deformed monsters shuttle through it, as if they are the masters of this world.
It's not Dante's Divine Comedy, I'm sure of it, because I discerned a unique and thriving ecological order in the terrifyingly twisted and chaotic scene.
But I know that these are all just appearances, certain thoughts have been bothering me. Those that I can occasionally feel but can't see, i.e., things that make me feel like I'm vaguely observing a leopard through a tube, remain hidden in the shadow of twilight.
They are calling to me, extending their arms from the darkness, wanting to embrace me, much like the stars I saw the day I was born."