"No, even if we die, we will never eat our own kind!" the astronauts all said.
The greeter shook his head. "Your own kind aren't things. Your own kind are food."
"Your own kind are things..." Belang caught himself halfway through and quickly changed his wording. "Your own kind are your own kind—friends and companions."
"Since they are friends, when a friend is about to starve to death, offering up your own flesh to help them is only natural," the greeter said bewitchingly.
"Impossible! Even if we die—starve to death, bleed to death, die from pain—we still won't eat!" the astronauts gritted out.
"Fine, then wait here. I want to see just how strong your will is," the greeter said disdainfully.
They had once been like this too, until they finally lowered their heads before Hunger.
Hunger could destroy the will of ninety percent of people.
When you were starving to the limit, you would find yourself in a hazy state where you could no longer resist even the slightest temptation.
Cannibalism had always been commonplace.
It had never been anything unusual throughout history. Only after industrialization and the great development of agriculture had it become rare.
A few days later, the astronauts quickly began to feel extremely hungry.
Incredibly, unbearably hungry.
They then desperately devoured every kind of supply.
Chicken, fish, canned fruit, grilled lobster, steamed lamb, boiled beef...
They ate all sorts of delicacies.
Yet none of it could suppress the hunger in their hearts.
And whenever they looked at their companions, those strong bodies seemed like enormous chicken drumsticks.
Mouthwatering.
They could only stay as far away from the others as possible and avoid looking at them.
Yet that only made the hunger grow stronger and stronger.
People also began vomiting blood. In truth, they were vomiting