Biochemical Instance Dungeon.
The blazing sun, Benji.
The sky was scorching, and the air seemed to twist like dough.
In the small Gathering Place, groups of Survivors sat listlessly beneath the wooden eaves, looking like dehydrated Dried Corpses.
The buzzing flies swarmed through the streets like bees, searching for flesh to bite.
The Survivors here seemed to have grown used to keeping flies as companions. An old man as thin as kindling lay blankly on a chopping board, waving his arm to catch the fly on his eyelid. With a light pinch, he stuffed it into his mouth and chewed with all his might.
His calf had already rotted away. Beneath his rolled-up trouser leg, that section of his lower leg looked just like a wind-dried beef shank. From the bowl-sized wound, countless white dots crawled in and out of the moist flesh.
But perhaps the old man's flesh was too tough. The maggots could only burrow through the rotting flesh around the wound. As they crawled, they sometimes used too much force and propelled themselves onto the ground with a slap.
"Xiao Kachi, your grandpa's holding up pretty well. He still has the appetite to eat at a time like this."
"As agreed, once this leg is chopped off, it's mine."
Behind the chopping board, a Gaunt Man wearing a filthy, stinking apron smiled at the Little Boy beside it.
As he spoke, he twisted his wrist and raised a nicked Bone Ripper high, aiming at the old man's joint.
To him, chopping off a leg was apparently nothing shocking. Several Survivors nearby lazily watched the show and teased the boy.
"Xiao Kachi, why do you still bother looking after this old man?"
"Why not let everyone have a share? Maybe when the caravan comes, we can trade it