The monster had originally been only slightly taller than a human, and from a distance, it had still somewhat resembled the person it had once been.
But now, standing before the barricade was a towering Flesh Mountain nearly two stories tall.
Hands struggled and clawed, legs supported it as it moved forward, eyes bled, mouths wailed—countless mismatched limbs had been pieced together into that twisted mass of flesh and blood.
The instant they saw it, everyone on the defensive line froze.
An indescribable terror, like an icy hand, slowly clenched around every heart.
Fear—fear beyond words—left the Mystic Society's followers unable even to run.
Under extreme terror, people did not flee. They froze where they stood. It was an instinctive reaction—or rather, a form of suppression—when living creatures faced their natural predators.
They said that when goats on the South Continent were stared down by lions, they would not run. They would stand perfectly still and watch as they were eaten alive, piece by piece.
And at this moment, everyone felt as though they were facing ultimate terror itself—the natural predator of humanity.
The monster reached up and scooped two Mystic Society members off a rooftop, stuffing them into its mouth. After chewing a few times, it spat out a lump of mangled iron—the muskets that had been swallowed along with them.
Then the monster turned toward Josh, standing atop the roof, and reached for him without hesitation.
More limbs grew from its hand—arms, ears, hair—and the enormous hand shot toward him.
I'm going to die. Run, hurry, run! Run!!
His mind screamed, trying to force his body to move, but his body remained frozen like a stone statue.
Josh desperately tried to close his eyes, but he could not even manage that simple action. He could only watch as