York was casually wearing a belt of ten holy hand grenades, a revolver holster, and a rocket launcher slung over his shoulder.
With this array of weaponry, he was now fully equipped.
Having completed this step, York moved his body a bit to make sure it didn't hinder his movements, and then he began to step down the stairs to the next level.
"What exactly does 'liberation' mean?"
Halfway down the stairs, York looked down at the lower level and continued his descent.
With each step, the sound of his footsteps echoed in the staircase.
As York's feet touched the ground floor, he began to understand the true requirements of his mission.
"Such heavy resentment, even heavier than that of evil spirits," York mused, waving his hand, his eyes imbued with demonic power and glowing deep red.
The reality of this underground morgue had been altered by some unknown force and intense resentment.
It was this that affected ordinary people, altering their senses and causing hallucinations, controlled by someone's deliberate manipulation.
"In a sense, you're not really dead," York thought aloud, recalling the photo of the unnamed female corpse and forming hypothetical deductions.
"I assume you're alive because the mission requires liberation, combined with this overwhelming resentment. You must be a victim in some incident. I wish you could express or reveal the truth yourself..."
Though this was just a hypothesis, York had no solid information or identification for the female corpse, so everything was based on conjecture.
"Your resentment is growing stronger..."
York spoke to himself, not caring if anyone was listening.
"But my mental attributes are high, and with the Eye of Magic, your illusions are useless against me. You're too weak."
As he walked through the underground morgue, the atmosphere was even more chilling than above.
The reason was the pervasive resentment, invisible like the air but with passive effects like those in a game, impacting people unseen.
Even without the resentment, the morgue's hospital-like environment, coupled with autopsy and mortuary functions, already had a terrifying effect on ordinary people.
York glanced at the fallen policemen and forensic scientists' bodies on the floor and continued forward.
"The disinfectant smell of hospitals and morgues is always associated with horror movies..."
The hallway was silent except for York's footsteps, until suddenly a bell rang.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
York approached the intersection with an impassive face, knowing what the bell sound indicated in this place.
Only a dead person would have a bell tied to their foot, used when it was uncertain whether someone was dead or alive.
The bell would ring if the person moved, alerting the medical examiner or someone else that the person was still alive...
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The bell continued to ring. York's heart was unmoved; he just remembered the expressions of the dead in the scene photos – confusion, bewilderment, but mostly fear.
"This horror effect is quite strong."
Approaching the intersection, York knew the sound came from the right-hand corridor, exactly where he needed to go.
Yet, his real-time 3D mental map showed no feedback from the source of the sound, as if the place was empty.
"I can reach you even without doing anything, just following this sound," York thought, smiling as he walked to the intersection.
Turning right, a fire axe swung towards him in a gust.
In this critical moment, York still had time to scrutinize the bell's owner.
Just as he thought, the bell's owner was indeed a reanimated corpse.
The face was a gaping hole of blood, like a shotgun blast at close range, with organs and brain tissue eerily preserved.
Such shocking and horrifying sight would be unbearable for most, but York's gaze moved on undisturbed.
The corpse wore hospital patient attire, the kind used for surgery, marked with a number.
"Number 31..."
York murmured, then unleashed his mental power, creating an invisible psychic shield that narrowly blocked the axe already slicing through his clothes.
Knowing it was an illusion, York didn't want to experience being hit by the fire axe, whether it had an effect or not.
"Disperse!"
Focusing on the rigid corpse, York used twenty points of magic power.
At this doubled effect, twenty points were more than enough for the unnamed female corpse; it was almost overkill.
Crack! Crack!
With no wind, an invisible ripple spread out from York, and the corpse in front of him scattered like ashes in a storm, gradually disappearing until nothing was left.
The walls of the corridor began to crack.
With a final snap, York continued walking forward.
Now, he was getting closer to the autopsy room.
According to the map, only one more intersection lay ahead, and at the end of the left corridor was the autopsy room.
On this corridor, York witnessed an even more brutal truth.
Most of the dead lay along this path.
Blood was splattered everywhere, like an overabundance of tomatoes, indiscriminately spread.
A twisted forensic scientist, hanged staff members, cornered rats, a policeman who had shot himself, and slowly drying bloodstains on the walls...
"It's hard to say; if this is the result of your will, you don't deserve 'liberation'. If it's real, I lean towards humane destruction, even if the mission fails..."
York sighed, passing through the bloody corridor to the next intersection, then turned left towards the autopsy room.
"As I get closer, the resentment and curse power grow stronger," York observed, eyes fixed on the autopsy room at the end of the corridor.
With every step closer to the twenty meters away room, the intensifying resentment and curse made York's surroundings feel increasingly surreal...
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