After the Evil God Pretends to Be a Player [Infinite] - Chapter 11

“AAAAAAH—!”

A continuous stream of screams erupted from Zhou Wen, who shared a room with the female streamer. Zhou Wen had always been timid; now, her face was deathly pale, looking as though she were about to be driven mad by terror.

The scent of blood in the room was overwhelming. Lalai’s expression was grim. Nevertheless, she leaned down, showing no hesitation as she placed a finger beneath the nostrils of the female streamer whose face was now unrecognizable. After half a minute, Lalai let out a soft sigh.

At that moment, the window clicked and was pushed open from the outside. Three male players climbed in through the half-open frame.

Wang Kai was the last to scramble inside, muttering under his breath, “What happened? The Keeper just made us pass a Listening Check, and then we heard a scream…”

His words died in his throat as his gaze landed on the corpse on the floor. His eyes filled with utter disbelief. His girlfriend threw herself into his arms, trembling violently.

Li Zhu’s gaze darkened. “We were together the whole time yesterday…” He turned to the sobbing Zhou Wen. “What happened last night?”

When a person who is usually gentle and smiling stops smiling, their innate majesty and sense of superiority gradually pierce through their skin, revealing themselves.

Zhou Wen appeared even more terrified. “Nothing… nothing happened last night. We were both very tired, so we decided to turn off the lights and sleep early. I slept so deeply last night, I didn’t hear a thing…”

Her eyes brushed against the female streamer’s mangled, bloody face again, and she choked off her words, an intense horror spreading through the depths of her eyes.

Li Zhu scrutinized her for a moment and concluded that her fear did not seem feigned.

The most terrifying part of this incident wasn’t waking up to find the living person beside you had become a corpse; it was the realization that while you were dead to the world, your roommate was undergoing the agony of being flayed alive. Did she scream in pain? Did she beg desperately for you to wake up and save her?

And yet, you slept on, hearing nothing, ignorantly allowing the tragedy to unfold.

But if the roommate wasn’t the culprit, what exactly caused the female streamer’s direct demise?

Lalai spoke suddenly: “It was because of that Charm.”

“She used a Charm skill on an NPC. Consequently, that NPC slipped into her room in the middle of the night and took her face.”

A heavy gloom fell over the group. No one had expected that someone would lose their life simply for using a skill. Although they had yet to encounter the true boss the Evil God they had already tasted the pervasive lethality of the world the Evil God had created.

The atmosphere grew even more tense and oppressive when they reached the very end of the School History Museum and saw the female streamer’s face.

More accurately, it was her mask.

The mask the streamer had haphazardly scribbled on the day before was now displayed in a glass case. However, it was no longer as she had drawn it; instead, it perfectly rendered her actual face.

A blood-red smile curved on the streamer’s lips, as if she were saying to the crowd:

You will all come to join me soon.

Meng Luo whispered, “She lost her face, and then the mask turned into the likeness of her face. Does this imply that the mask is the carrier for a human face?”

She shuddered at her own hypothesis but forced herself to continue: “If we put on the masks, does it mean the masks replace our faces? And the moment the masks are stored in the History Museum, we effectively give up our own faces?”

“But… we still don’t know why this instance cares so much about imagery like ‘faces’ and ‘beauty’.”

Meng Luo habitually looked toward Lalai for help, only to see Lalai give her a reassuring look, as if saying, You’ve done very well.

The anxiety in Meng Luo’s heart felt as though it had been doused by cool water. She gradually calmed down and gave Lalai a grateful look. What she didn’t know was that Lalai was making a mental note in her little notebook: Humans need encouragement. When interacting with them, encourage them more, and they will produce positive emotions.

The others agreed with Meng Luo’s speculation, except for the Punk, who was frantically clawing at his face with both hands. “I don’t understand a damn thing you’re saying about masks or faces! Do any of you have a way to make my face stop itching so much?”

He let go of his face, and the group finally saw his current state.

After one night, the white powder on his face seemed to have increased. The powder obscured his original skin texture; it looked almost as if a new layer of skin had grown out. The Punk claimed his face was itching and scratched incessantly, leaving his face covered in bloody streaks, making him look exceptionally gruesome.

Lalai remarked, “Don’t you think you look a bit different than before?”

“Nonsense! How is that possible!” The Punk spat out more curses, his entire demeanor becoming incredibly manic.

No one could offer further warnings in this situation, but almost everyone present could see it the thick layer of powder was blurring his features. He was gradually beginning to resemble one of the student NPCs.

Despite their extreme reluctance, the remaining six players returned to the art room to continue painting their unfinished masks.

The Keeper had issued a final ultimatum: Before leaving the art room today, they must finish the masks they intended to wear to the masquerade ball.

In theory, if the mask truly replaced one’s face, then the less it looked like a human face, the safer it would be. Consequently, most people followed the lead of Li Zhu and Lalai, painting things that had nothing to do with human features.

Except for the Punk.

The Punk scribbled wildly on his mask while deathly scratching his itchy face. He wasn’t stupid; he knew the mask must not bear a high resemblance to his own features. He was even relieved by his own abysmal artistic skills. While he couldn’t paint a likeness if he tried, he should at least be able to paint something that didn’t look like him.

However, as he applied black paint to the mask, a horrific sensation suddenly arose without reason as if he had painted a pair of eyes, and those eyes were staring back at him.

He couldn’t help but find it ridiculous. Just two black dots, how could those be eyes?

But looking again, the faint white in the center of those black dots somehow resembled human sclera.

His palms broke into a cold sweat. Trembling, he reached for another tube of paint, only to realize he had grabbed red. His hand moved uncontrollably toward the bottom of the mask. The bright red pigment was dotted beneath the two black points, resembling a slightly parted mouth…

Li Zhu was the first to notice something was wrong with the Punk.

The Punk’s eyes were fixed on the mask in his hands, his face full of terror as if he were looking at a monster.

Li Zhu frowned. Just as he was about to set down his own mask and walk toward the Punk, he saw the man suddenly claw at his own face again. This time, he used his strength without any restraint. In just a few seconds, his face became a mangled mess of flesh and blood.

However, the white powder on his face did not fall off due to his actions; instead, it seemed to accumulate more and more. His original features were firmly covered. He truly looked like a different person now.

At that moment, a corner of the mask the Punk was clutching tightly in his other hand was exposed.

Li Zhu’s eyelid twitched.

Even though only half the mask was visible, he could still recognize it: that was the Punk’s own face.

The Keeper’s voice rang in his ear: “Having witnessed something that defies common sense, please perform a Sanity Check. Success: -0; Failure: -1d3.”

[SAN Check] Check/Result: 73/89 — Failure 1d3 = 1 The Keeper’s cheerful voice sounded: “1 Sanity point deducted. Remaining: 72 points.”

Due to his privileged background and smooth life experiences, Li Zhu had not tasted fear in a long time. Even in this horror instance, he viewed it mostly as a game to be cleared, doing his best to dig for the secrets behind the dungeon and approaching suspicious players to gain information.

After all, it was just a game.

Until the female streamer’s face was peeled off, and the Punk painted his own face onto the mask right before his eyes…

In that instant, he truly felt a pervasive sense of oppression and eeriness.

What he didn’t know was that while he was performing his Sanity Check, the Punk was doing one as well.

The Keeper’s cruel voice rang out: “You saw your own face on the mask. You have suffered a massive fright.”

[SAN Check] Check/Result: 40/65 — Failure 1d6 = 5 “Losing 5 Sanity points within one hour, you will enter a state of Temporary Insanity.”

The Punk’s eyes turned bloodshot. He slammed the mask onto his face and ran out without regard for anything.

Everyone stood up, looking in the direction the Punk had fled.

Wang Kai found it unbelievable. “Is he crazy? Isn’t that door locked? How did he get out?”

No one could answer his question.

Meng Luo asked, “Can we go after him?”

She tried to push the door, but it was locked. It was as if the scene of the Punk leaving just now was an illusion. However, every person present knew clearly that the Punk was no longer in the room.

The Punk did not return, even when it was time to go back to the dorms at night.

As they passed the dormitory warden’s office, Li Zhu noticed that the key for Room 515 the Punk’s room was hanging back on the warden’s key rack.

The remaining five players returned to their rooms without much communication. No one had expected that a day before the masquerade ball, they would lose two teammates so suddenly.

Who knew if this was merely the appetizer before the bloody slaughter truly began?

At one o’clock in the morning, Lalai, who was still awake, suddenly heard a series of “thump, thump, thump” sounds.

The noise did not come from the door, but from the wall beside her bed.

Thump, thump, thump!

Thump, thump, thump!

It sounded as if someone were trapped alive inside the wall, desperately seeking help before they suffocated, yearning for a glimmer of hope.

Of course, it could also be something else.

Lalai remembered that on the other side of this wall was Room 615, where Zhou Wen lived.

The knocking gradually stopped, replaced by Zhou Wen’s voice. Her voice trembled slightly, sounding very afraid:

“Lalai, Meng Luo, are you asleep? I’m so scared… I feel like something in the bathroom mirror has been watching me. Can I come sleep in your room?”

Lalai said flatly, “The warden said we can’t swap rooms.”

The other party was silent for a moment, then said, “But I’m really scared, truly. She won’t know… we’ll be very quiet…”

Lalai suddenly said decisively, “Fine then. Come in.”

The other party’s half-finished sentence immediately caught in their throat.

Exactly one minute later, there was a knock at the dormitory door.