A damp, rotten stench filled the dim alley. Moss crawled across the mottled walls, and filthy water ran across the ground.
Dr. Lizardman dragged his exhausted, scarred body through the narrow alley, fleeing in a blind panic.
Several patches of scales on his body had been damaged, exposing the bright red flesh beneath. Green mucus continued to seep from his wounds, and every step left behind a wet, fishy-smelling footprint.
At that moment, he was nearly driven mad by the hunger brought on by his supercharged metabolism.
This supercharged metabolism had once been an ability he took pride in, allowing him to recover rapidly after being injured. Now, however, it had become his nightmare.
As his body rapidly healed, it consumed vast amounts of energy and nutrients, especially protein. He felt like an emptied vessel, desperately needing huge amounts of food to fill himself up.
Just as hunger left him dizzy and disoriented, on the verge of losing consciousness, a figure suddenly appeared ahead of him.
It was a tall, upright man dressed in a black trench coat. The coat fluttered gently in the breeze, while a pair of black sunglasses covered most of his face, making his expression impossible to see.
"Yo, Doctor, it looks like you need some help?"
the man said.
Hearing the voice, Dr. Lizardman's muddled mind instantly cleared somewhat.
He raised his head and looked at the man with bloodshot, feral eyes. A low growl rumbled from his throat. "That's right. I do need help."
At that moment, hunger had completely clouded his mind, and he had no time to care that the other party had immediately exposed his identity.
In his eyes, this man who had suddenly appeared was like an energy feast delivered right to his door. Instinctively, he opened his bloody maw