He lowered his head and continued to hack at the joints, dividing each leg into three sections. After finishing, he stacked them neatly into a pile—the shell of this thing gleamed with a metallic luster, as hard as stone, and when stacked together, they made a crisp clattering sound.

When all six legs had been removed, Victor Harris and Anthony Carter had also finished dismantling the head and came over to the half-torso. Victor Harris glanced at the neatly stacked legs and feet on the ground and smiled, “You’re pretty meticulous.”

Then he said to Henry Watson, “Drive the vehicle over.”

Henry Watson said nothing and turned to walk out.

Adam Carter stood to the side, watching Victor Harris and Anthony Carter work on the monster’s chest and abdomen.

He asked, “Do you need my help?”

Victor Harris, wearing gloves and holding a black pincer-like tool about as long as a human calf, said, “You haven’t been out much, have you?”

Adam Carter: “…No.”

“Then just stay over there.” Victor Harris pried open the plates at the monster’s chest and abdomen with the pincers. The edges of the plates were irregular, forming a sharp black spine at the joints with other plates, glinting with a cold, gray light. Victor Harris said, “This thing has a lot of spines. Without experience, it’s easy to get pricked. The pollution level on the Second Plain isn’t high, but there’s still a risk of infection.”

Adam Carter obediently took a few steps back, watching them dismantle the corpse piece by piece. One black shell after another was lifted away, and pale viscera and tissue spilled all over the ground.

As he watched, a dull rumbling sound arose. Adam Carter looked to his right and saw a black, rectangular armored vehicle driving toward them, like a giant crustacean monster—he was very familiar with this vehicle; Aaron Carter’s old team had five such armored vehicles.

As the vehicle approached, Henry Watson jumped out. Without looking up, Victor Harris said, “Help him load the stuff onto the vehicle first.”

Adam Carter responded with an “Mm,” picked up the shell plates from the ground, carefully tied them together with rope, and handed them to Henry Watson, who took them and placed them in the armored vehicle’s storage compartment.

The massive monster was gradually reduced in size as they dismantled it, and the pile of shell plates Adam Carter picked up grew larger and larger.

While tying up a stack of plates with rope, his movements suddenly paused.

At that moment, the black, spiked plate beneath his hands—on the tip of one of the spines, there were several tiny, bead-like droplets of liquid, dark in color, barely noticeable unless you looked closely.

He looked at the stains of viscera on the ground, confirming that all the fluids inside this monster were white, yellow, or clear.

So what were these dark droplets? He thought of the blood that had flowed from Aaron Carter’s body before he died.

So Adam Carter glanced over at Victor Harris and Anthony Carter, who were both focused on dismantling the corpse, their expressions calm, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. So Adam Carter could only pretend nothing had happened, lowered his head again, and finished tying up the plates.

A long time later, the dismantling was finally complete, and the three seemed convinced that Adam Carter wouldn’t suddenly turn into some deadly monster.

Victor Harris said, “Get in, we’re heading back to base. Adam Carter, you too.”

An armored vehicle could hold seven or eight people, and there was space inside for resting, simply divided into three compartments, but each compartment was very low and narrow, so people had to stoop to move around inside.

Adam Carter was assigned to the outermost compartment, with the door to his right. He lay down with his backpack as a pillow. Anthony Carter went to the front to drive, Victor Harris was next to him, and Henry Watson was in the innermost compartment.

The door closed, plunging the space into darkness, with only a faint light coming in through a small side window. After a bout of shaking, the armored vehicle slowly started up, moving forward smoothly, with only the occasional bump, but nothing severe.

Adam Carter stared into the darkness before him, feeling as if he were floating in a black tide, the current carrying him toward the northern base, a place he knew nothing about.

A faint sense of helplessness and confusion enveloped him, and he simply lay there quietly in the dark.

As the light from the small window gradually grew stronger, the surroundings became a little brighter. The vehicle stopped, and Adam Carter heard Henry Watson get up, walk a few steps inside, open the door between the driver’s cabin and the rest area, and go in to relieve Anthony Carter. Anthony Carter then returned to Henry Watson’s original spot and lay down, his breathing heavy and movements large enough to make the floor of the rest area shake. Immediately after, Victor Harris asked, “What’s wrong?” and Anthony Carter replied, “Just a bit tired.”

A long time passed again, and it was Victor Harris’s turn to relieve Henry Watson.

Adam Carter instinctively curled up a bit, knowing that this meant Henry Watson would be sleeping next to him, which made him uneasy.

But from the next compartment, there was no sound of anyone lying down for a long time.

Adam Carter opened his eyes wide, waiting.

The next moment, there was a rustling of footsteps, and someone suddenly lunged onto him.

“Baby…” Henry Watson’s voice was low and hoarse. He wedged his legs between Adam Carter’s, wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Adam Carter almost reflexively struggled a few times, but was pinned to the ground by a greater force. “Victor Harris’s thing isn’t here… I know what you do. I’ve been with more mercenary teams than he’s ever seen.”

Those few moments of struggling had taken quite a bit out of Adam Carter. He panted a few times, “Please don’t do this.”