Chelated Being

Hesta fought back the urge to vomit and leaned away, but the hand and dead rat followed close behind, thrust right before her eyes.

Director Elma's bandage-wrapped forearms were abnormally thick. Even through the heavy gauze, Hesta could almost see the pulse throbbing beneath her skin.

"Director Elma...?" Hesta's face went pale. "You... you really..."

Elma looked at Hesta, and the smile on her face gradually froze. She first let out a startled sigh, then slowly lowered her head, plunging half her face into shadow.

"Didn't you say you wanted to eat...?"

In that instant, Hesta caught a faint scent of death in the interplay of light and shadow. Before Elma could act, still lost in her muttering, the girl sprang to her feet and tried to dash for the door.

"Ger—"

She only managed one syllable of her cry for help before a chunk of rancid flesh was stuffed into her mouth. Two powerful arms reached around from behind and clamped down on her neck and face.

Hesta's feet slowly left the ground as she struggled. Elma held her completely trapped in her embrace—the old woman's body was unnaturally hot and immensely strong.

"Eat, eat... my Jane, my good child..."

Putrid juices seeped into Hesta's mouth. Everything before her eyes turned bluish, and the dizziness from lack of oxygen gradually drained the strength from her limbs. The vague sense of impending death suddenly descended like a heavy curtain, airtight and crushing. Just as her consciousness began to blur, Hesta abruptly stopped trying to escape and clamped her jaws tightly down on the dead rat and Elma's arm.

Her four sharp canine teeth instantly bit through the bandages on the old woman's arm. Elma swiftly raised the bitten arm, swung Hesta halfway around, and hurled her toward the wardrobe against the wall.

With a loud crash, Hesta slammed heavily onto the floor. Behind her, the wardrobe door, knocked loose by the impact, suddenly swung open—before Hesta could get up, the naked Flosang tumbled out. Instinctively, Hesta reached out and caught her former companion.

Flosang's body was icy cold; she had clearly been dead for quite some time. Hesta saw two dense rows of needle marks—a pair of black crow wings had been carefully sewn onto Flosang's back.

"She's a little devil." Elma pointed at Flosang's corpse with a grin. "Look... she even has a devil's black feathers."

Hesta raised her head tremblingly. The aged Elma was walking toward her step by step, but more terrifying than the old woman's ghastly smile were her arms—the one whose bandages had been torn away, revealing the true surface of her skin, was as bright red as a lobster shell.

Chelated Disease...

Hesta finally understood what all this meant: the person standing before her was no longer the once-kind and loving director, but a demon infected with Chelation Disease, one who had completely lost her mind.

But it was too late.

Elma seized Hesta again. This time, she did not try to force anything into the girl's mouth. Instead, she clamped both arms directly around her neck.

"Bad child," the old woman said coldly. "You've learned to lie too?"

Hot tears streamed from Hesta's eyes as that terrifying suffocating feeling descended once more. Her fingers clawed desperately at Elma's arms, but aside from tearing away more bandages, her struggle was useless—until the dull thud of a heavy blow rang out.

The hands choking her finally loosened again.

Hesta crashed to the floor, coughing and gasping violently. When she looked up again, she saw that Sister Gurdin had somehow burst in. The nun held up a wooden stool, and blood from Elma's head stained one of its corners.

Gerdin stared at the scene before her, pale as death, her arms shaking uncontrollably with indescribable terror.

"Miss Gerdin—" Hesta tried to explain what had happened, but Sister Gurdin's brows shot up as she cut her off with a sharp shout.

"Run!! Jane!"

The putrid stench, the scattered squirrel corpses, dead Flosang, Elma trying to strangle Hesta, and those thick crimson arms...

Everything before her needed no explanation for Sister Gurdin to understand.

The nun wildly swung the chair, trying to draw Elma's attention in the narrow passageway.

"Run!! Run!! Jane!! Go call the police!!"

In her overwhelming fear, Hesta felt as if she had lost control of her limbs. She scrambled to her feet, but Elma and Miss Gerdin blocked the path to the front door. Getting past them would be far too difficult...

But the southern window was still open!

Hesta leaped onto the director's desk. Half her body had barely made it through the window when a sharp pain shot through her right ankle.

Elma smashed the wooden stool apart with her bare hands and somehow produced a dagger. Her four fused fingers gripped the hilt tightly as she drove the blade precisely into Hesta's ankle.

Hesta let out a low, agonized hiss.

Sister Gurdin, knocked to the ground, roared as she lunged at Elma. But she was too weak. Even with her arms wrapped around Elma's waist, she could not drag the Chelated Being away from the desk.

As Elma raised her knife high once more, Hesta felt as though everything before her had slowed down—as if the air between her and Elma had suddenly filled with some transparent gel. That invisible, untouchable substance greatly slowed Elma's movements.

But in her extreme terror, Hesta could barely move. She could only watch as half of Sister Gurdin's right hand was sliced off—the separation of bone and flesh was so clear that she could even see the spurting hot blood and the cross-section of torn flesh. The Chelated Being's dagger was then knocked onto the floor nearby by Sister Gurdin.

The Chelated Being let out a frustrated shriek, casually grabbed a steel pen from a nearby pen holder, and viciously plunged it into Sister Gurdin's right shoulder.

"Miss Gerdin!"

The nun screamed in agony and collapsed onto the desk. She kept vomiting blood, her eyes bloodshot and the veins on her forehead bulging.

"Go..."

Gerdin rose again and, with the last of her strength, shoved Hesta, who was slumped before the window, outside.

The next moment, the window slammed shut. Blood splattered horribly across the softly glowing glass.

Currently known information:

"Chelating Fungus" "Chelation Disease" "Chelated Being"

Chelation Disease is an illness caused by Chelating Fungus. After infection, there is an incubation period of one to two months.

In the early stage of infection, patients experience persistent low moods, loss of appetite, insomnia or excessive sleepiness, lethargy, weakness, and other symptoms. At this stage, if patients undergo testing and seek treatment promptly, a series of complex biological treatments can completely eliminate the pathogenic spores from their bodies and restore their health.

Once the disease enters its active stage, it can no longer be cured. Patients become complete "criminals." Their speed and strength increase dramatically over a short period, while their methods of committing crimes are directly influenced by factors such as their former profession, personality, hobbies, and important life experiences.

After onset, patients can generally remain active for one to two weeks before rapidly dying of hemorrhagic fever.

It should be noted that although patients retain their original appearance after onset, they have essentially become puppets.

Such highly dangerous organisms are collectively referred to as "Chelated Beings."

This was probably the fastest I'd ever handed out death flags. ∠("∠)_