The Clingy Black Mist

Ye Shengge frowned deeply at the words of the resentful doll.

He had no intention of actually stopping the dungeon bosses from killing each other.

The only reason he had previously tried to prevent the resentful doll from attacking its peer was for fear of being caught in the crossfire. Now that he had made a symbolic effort to stop it, if the resentful doll still insisted on attacking, it had nothing to do with him.

He wasn’t some undiscriminating “Holy Father” type, nor was he looking to increase the difficulty of his own tasks.

However, those thoughts could never be voiced in front of the resentful doll and the other doll—the one currently prone on the floor, struggling to stand.

So, he put on an act of disapproval, while internally poking at the resentful doll’s triggers to further provoke the conflict.

Ye Shengge spoke with righteous indignation, deliberately opposing the doll’s will: “This has nothing to do with whether I like him or not. He hasn’t done anything wrong; I won’t let you kill him.”

An arbitrary and tyrannical being like the resentful doll could never allow someone to defy it. But constrained by its nature, it could not strike the dollmaker who created it; it could only vent its fury on its peer.

In a moment, without him having to say another word, these two doll bosses would be at each other’s throats.

Even if there was a slight difference in their power levels, they were both special—having broken their seals early. Neither would be easy to defeat.

The most likely outcome was a mutual defeat where both sides suffered.

Thinking of this, Ye Shengge was so happy he almost smiled.

But before the grin could break, he cruelly pinched his own thigh, forcing the smile back down. He knew that if he laughed now, all his previous efforts would go to waste.

Fortunately, the pain of the pinch wasn’t for nothing.

That line deliberately defying the resentful doll had indeed sparked its rage—an extraordinary level of rage.

It laughed out of pure anger: “Then let’s see if you can actually stop me and save him.”

As it spoke, an eerie black mist began to gather around the resentful doll, making its exquisite, handsome features appear somewhat demonic.

The mist, radiating an ominous aura, was strange; it acted as obediently as a living pet in front of the resentful doll, maintaining a set distance while churning and surging. Then, it shot straight toward the “favorite” doll—the one that had finally managed to stand up with a wobbly, zombie-like gait.

The black mist was far too fast, leaving no room for reaction or interference.

Having done this, the resentful doll’s mood finally cleared up. Feeling the outcome was certain, it stopped watching the struggle and turned toward the stunned dollmaker.

Seeing the serious, slightly dazed look on the beautiful boy’s face, it couldn’t help but chuckle softly: “What’s wrong? Scared out of your wits?”

“That black mist… what exactly is that thing?!” Jolted back to reality by the chuckle, Ye Shengge asked in disbelief.

He wasn’t overreacting; it was because this black mist looked exactly like the energy used by the final boss in the previous dungeon.

However, the resentful doll misunderstood the question.

Hearing the dollmaker’s tone, it thought he was looking down on its power. Its hard-won good mood plummeted again.

Suppressing a surge of grievance, it gave a cold, forced laugh: “What it is doesn’t matter. What matters is that it works.”

Its tone was a bit sharp.

Immediately after speaking, it regretted it, looking at the dollmaker anxiously for fear of upsetting him.

But to its surprise, the dollmaker didn’t seem to notice the sharp tone at all. His expression remained unchanged, let alone showing signs of being offended.

Ye Shengge truly had no time to worry about the boss’s tone; all his attention was fixed on that eerie black mist.

Watching the mist slowly consume and dissolve everything it touched until it vanished entirely…

Ye Shengge was certain. This black mist was identical to the one surrounding the previous dungeon’s boss.

How could this be? Why was this sinister thing appearing in this dungeon too?!

Fortunately, this doll boss didn’t seem to know the full extent of the mist’s uses—specifically, that it could create a barrier to cut off his connection with the system. Otherwise, trouble would follow in waves, and he might actually perish in this “easy” dungeon.

At this thought, he said to the system with some irritation: [I think I need a reasonable explanation.]

He knew this black mist was dangerous, almost invincibly “bug-like.”

He didn’t need a high IQ to realize that this thing shouldn’t exist in a dungeon the system had labeled as “one of the easiest in Rank A.”

Yet, here was this sinister bug, right in front of him.

None of this had appeared in the plot provided by the system broadcast.

Previously, he had assumed these changes were just a chain reaction caused by his arrival. But looking back, far more things had gone off-script than he realized.

Forget about compensating him with an easy run—at this rate, he might not even keep his life.

The system, recognizing the severity of the situation, didn’t deflect. It answered directly: [When the doll boss broke the plot and the seal early, I sent a message to the Main System. However, it will take some time to get a reply. During this interval, you should find a place to stay away from them to prevent more uncontrollable events.]

Hearing this, Ye Shengge didn’t even have the energy to curse the Main System’s inefficiency.

Sensing his emotional turbulence, the system added: [Apologies. No player has ever encountered something like this before, nor has there been a need to contact the Main System mid-dungeon. That’s why the process is slow.]

[Can’t it be fixed sooner?] Ye Shengge’s eyes turned red with frustration.

He was angry at his own bad luck and at this game for being so bug-ridden and under-functional while still having the nerve to recruit players.

What did they mean by “never encountered this before”?

Hadn’t he encountered enough in the last dungeon?

What did they mean by “no need to contact the Main System”?

In the last dungeon, he nearly got trapped forever because of a delayed reply!

Couldn’t the developers show a bit more care and vigilance? Fix this useless communication function so this doesn’t happen to others? If a player actually died because of a game-breaking bug, who would be responsible?

The system could hear these questions, but it didn’t answer this time.

Its host hadn’t spent time in the Player Plaza, so he still had these “innocent” thoughts. The players there weren’t normal; they signed agreements knowing the consequences: life and death were in the hands of fate. If they were unwilling, the system would send them back to their original worlds. If they stayed, it was a mutual agreement.

Once in a dungeon, nothing could be changed.

Setting aside the fact that they’d truly never seen bugs like these, even if a player with a “foul soul” was targeted by a boss and met with an “accident,” the system would usually view it as “removing a pest for the world” and cheer.

Only its innocent host was different. He looked like a hothouse flower rather than a horror game survivor. Because of this uniqueness, the system had used its high-level communication privilege for the first time.

Other players would never get this treatment. If they died, the system would simply bind a new one.

But that wasn’t the most urgent concern.

The priority was how to leave this villa safely without the two unbound dolls following him.

However, before Ye Shengge could think of a way, the doll that had been harassed by the resentful doll’s mist suddenly retaliated by summoning its own identical black mist.

Though its movements were strained and almost comical, the lethality of its mist was no less than the other’s.

Where the black mist passed, nothing remained. Even the thick carpet of the villa was devoured until not a thread was left.

Seeing its peer summon mist—and becoming more proficient by the second, even letting out angry, simulated sounds—the resentful doll’s face turned ugly.

Watching the other doll stumble toward it with rage, it said with annoyance: “Tsk, truly persistent.”

It threw another ball of mist at its peer without hesitation.

But the target wasn’t a pushover either. Seeing the attack, its face darkened, and it threw back a ball of mist of equal size.

The two clouds of indistinguishable black mist collided, repelling each other just like their masters, before bouncing away with a thump in opposite directions.

Under Ye Shengge’s bewildered gaze, one of the black clouds flew straight toward him. With incredible precision, it brushed past his waist and began to circle him. It acted like a clingy puppy, pressing against his side and shifting into the shape of a small black dog, repeatedly nuzzling his waist with its “head.”

Because it was mist, the sensation was incredibly light—so light that if he hadn’t been looking, he might not have noticed it.

It looked cute, but Ye Shengge’s body froze the moment he felt the tiny mist-dog nuzzling him.

He didn’t know whose “pet” this terrifying thing was. Helplessly, his eyes brimmed with tears as he whispered in a trembling whimper: “Go away… don’t touch me.”