MMPS Ch. 4

Chapter 4: Equip the Aberrant Core – Goat Horn

“Hmm…” Yu An covered his eyes, peering through the gaps of his fingers as the Aberrant Core’s swirling patterns twisted into chaos. The lines eventually converged, forming the distinctive horizontal rectangular pupils of a goat.

The monitor of the Core Analyzer flickered in tandem, the goat motif shrinking to the left of the screen while a countdown appeared on the right, starting from ten minutes and ticking away second by second.

“Yu An, you’ve linked with that core already? Couldn’t you at least consult me first—ugh!” Zhao Ran’s frustration reached its peak, his voice rising as he barked into his headset. Yet his irritation was short-lived as the goat-headed monstrosity let out a piercing bleat and charged toward him, drawn by the commotion.

The most terrifying aspect of the goat-headed creature was its weaponized horns—gleaming, razor-sharp blades that could gut an opponent with a single thrust, leaving carnage in its wake.

Zhao Ran reacted swiftly, leaping upward to grip the steel piping running across the ceiling. His body swung with practiced ease, as fluid and precise as a matador’s cape, narrowly evading the creature’s ferocious charge.

This monster was leagues beyond the one slain near the surveillance room entrance. Its presence radiated danger like a gas leak spreading through the corridor, suffocating and inescapable.

“Damn goat, ruining my plans…” Zhao Ran muttered, keeping a measured distance while studying its movements. He had defeated countless Aberrants—nearly a thousand by his own estimation—but this one was unsettlingly resilient.

Enraged by Zhao Ran’s elusiveness, the goat-headed creature bellowed and charged again, its rage filling the air like a thunderstorm. In the dim corridor, Zhao Ran pressed his back against the wall, waiting for his chance. When the beast faltered, even briefly, he sprang into action.

Using the walls as his launchpad, he flipped himself onto the creature’s chest. With a calculated thrust of his left hand, his fingertips sliced through its abdomen like a scalpel. A sharp twist and pull to the blood-soaked flesh.

A cobalt-blue core, the vivid color striking against the grotesque scene.

Yet the monstrosity was unyielding. Without hesitation, it barreled forward, driving its lethal horns into the wall. The impact sent plaster and dust exploding into the air, the forceful tremor reverberating through the corridor. Zhao Ran slammed against the wall with a sickening thud, leaving a cratered dent where his spine had collided.

It had more than one core?

Blood seeped through the gauze at Zhao Ran’s side, staining his shirt and dripping steadily to the floor. His injuries left him momentarily weakened; every movement threatened to sap the strength from his limbs. A single misstep, and he would have already fallen.

Now impaled high on the wall, Zhao Ran found himself suspended with no foothold. He deactivated his headset mic, running his fingers over the intricate grooves of the goat’s horns. He spoke softly, almost mockingly:

“You couldn’t pick another day to cause trouble? What should I do with you now?”

A feral grin split his narrow lips as pain clouded his bloodshot eyes. In the dim light, the crimson glow in his pupils intensified, a sinister ember flickering in the shadows.

“Bad luck, little lamb. Next time, don’t get in my way.”

The goat-headed beast thrashed violently, seemingly disturbed by something unseen. Its massive head swayed as it looked down, but the darkness below offered no answers.

Zhao Ran chuckled low, his shoulders shaking as if delighting in some private joke. His mirth was interrupted by the cold voice from his headset.

“Interviewer, stay away from its head.”

“Hmm?” Zhao Ran’s laughter died as he pressed himself flat against the wall. His gaze shifted toward the corridor’s dark expanse, his attention sharpened.

The destruction was plain—doors to patient rooms smashed in, walls reduced to rubble, and moonlight fractured into shards by the iron bars of broken windows.

Then came the gleam of steel, a flash of cold light spinning through the air. A finely honed dagger hurtled forward, burying itself with unerring precision into the goat-headed creature’s temple. The impact was immense, as though a Magnum bullet had struck its mark, flinging the beast backward.

Freed from the horns that pinned him, Zhao Ran dropped to the ground, landing lightly before stepping back to assess the situation. His eyes narrowed, following the dagger’s trajectory to its source.

Emerging from the shadows, a figure materialized—a silhouette with curling goat horns adorning its head and a faintly glowing azure goat’s eye embedded in its left socket. As the figure walked, the glowing trail followed like an otherworldly comet.

Yu An stepped forward, separating himself from the abyss at his back, entering Zhao Ran’s line of sight.

The goat’s eye, now as fluid as a natural part of his anatomy, rotated effortlessly. Yet even Yu An seemed uncertain of the changes wrought upon him.

Zhao Ran held his side to ease the pain and caught sight of the blood smeared across his palm. But he paid it no mind, he seized Yu An by the collar, dragging him closer.

“It’s pitch dark, and you threw a knife this close. What if you hit me?”

Yu An averted his eyes, idly picking at his fingertips as he replied matter-of-factly:

“The interview would fail. Throwing a knife is risky, but with a gun, I’d never miss, Interviewer.”

Zhao Ran kept his smile, but his anger simmered beneath it.

He glanced at the Core Analyzer strapped to Yu An’s waist. Seven minutes and fifty-six seconds remained.

“Who taught you to shove random things into your eye? Aren’t you supposed to be a college student?” He sighed, giving Yu An a nudge forward. “You’ve got eight minutes of enhanced strength and agility left—don’t waste it.”

The goat-headed beast, its body charred and battered, defied logic. Flames had scorched it, a dagger had pierced its temple, and yet it rose again. Its unsteady eyes swiveled unnaturally in their sockets.

The scorched fur clung tightly to its leathery skin, the bones beneath its skull jutting grotesquely. Twin streams of heated breath burst from its nostrils as raw malice poured out, infecting the air with its intent to kill.

It scraped its iron hooves against the ground, preparing for another frenzied charge.

“Stop backing up. Prove yourself.” Zhao Ran blocked Yu An’s retreat, flipping on the Core Analyzer’s screeching alarm. “Get in there. Finish it.”

The sharp beeps drew the goat-headed beast’s attention, locking its focus on Yu An.

“…!” Yu An had no choice but to face it. Taking a hesitant step forward, he suddenly felt a surge of energy unlike anything he had experienced. With a single leap, his body launched upward, skimming the ceiling with startling agility.

Zhao Ran pressed against his wound as he moved to the wall, his gaze never leaving the battle. He activated the microphone on his headset.

“Don’t rush in. Half a meter to your left, there’s a warm pipe you can use to land.”

“It’s at your one o’clock, aiming for your legs. Three seconds to get behind it. Don’t hesitate, just jump.”

Guided by Zhao Ran’s voice, Yu An danced on the edge of disaster, his newfound strength keeping him alive.

The battle raged on, each moment more intense than the last, as blood, smoke, and malice filled the narrow corridor. The goat-headed beast seemed unstoppable, but Yu An, with Zhao Ran’s calculated guidance, pressed on—a man against monstrosity, teetering on the brink of victory.

Amid the distorted blare of the buzzer, the ram-headed aberrant staggered, disoriented. Its senses were useless in deciphering who controlled this chaotic battlefield.

Yu An crouched precariously on a warm pipe, one foot forward, one back, his body taut with tension. For a moment, doubt clouded his resolve. That brief hesitation was all it took—Zhao Ran’s instructions were lost, and from the shadows, a massive hand covered in coarse black fur lashed out, aiming for him.

The force of the swipe sent Yu An scrambling, his movements frantic and unsure.

“Don’t panic.” Zhao Ran’s voice crackled through the earpiece, eerily calm. “When I give a beginner an order, I always expect to have a high margin for error. Now—grab the dagger lodged in its head and pull it out.”

Yu An’s gaze locked on the aberrant’s head. With a surge of effort, he leaped. His fingers closed tightly around the dagger’s hilt as his legs shot out, the recoil wrenching the blade free. The ram-headed monstrosity staggered forward, its hulking body lurching, but the blow wasn’t enough to bring it down.

“It’s going for the weak spot on your left side.” Zhao Ran instructed, his tone sharp and deliberate. “Turn now—this is it—grab its horns!”

As the creature lunged, Yu An didn’t hesitate this time. He drove the dagger deep into its spine, embedding it like an ice axe. With the newfound anchor, he hoisted himself onto its back, his legs locking around its body while his hands seized its horns, fighting to wrest control over the thrashing beast.

Yu An’s chest heaved, each breath labored and harsh. His heart felt suspended mid-air, beating against his ribs like a caged bird. This thing… It didn’t seem this strong back at the nurse’s station. Could it be that Aberrants grow stronger the longer they mutate?

The creature thrashed wildly, its immense head swinging side to side. Without warning, it barreled toward the wall, its sole intent to crush the human riding its back into pulp.

Zhao Ran, observing from a distance, didn’t falter. He kicked a fire extinguisher across the floor, sending it spinning toward Yu An.

In that instant, an unspoken understanding passed between them. Yu An’s instincts aligned perfectly with Zhao Ran’s intent. Without needing a single word, he acted. With precision, he hurled the dagger through the air. It spun, its blade gleaming before striking true—embedding itself into the casing of the fire extinguisher.

The Aberrant Core embedded in Yu An’s eye pulsed with power. Its augmentation coursed through his body and into the weapon, transforming the strike into something monstrous. The dagger’s impact triggered an explosion that roared through the corridor like thunder, releasing a blinding cloud of white powder.

The thick fog enveloped the ram-headed aberrant. It bellowed in confusion, its vision obliterated, its ears ringing from the blast. It stumbled, disoriented, its once-mighty frame reduced to blind thrashing.

Yu An seized the opening. With a swift, decisive motion, he vaulted onto its head. His knees clamped around the ram’s skull as he twisted the horns with all his might.

The crunch of bone shattering echoed through the air, visceral and sickening. The Aberrant’s gargantuan body shuddered violently before collapsing like a toppled tower, the impact sending cracks splintering across the floor.

Yu An dismounted, his movements sharp and deliberate. He kicked the still-spewing fire extinguisher into an adjacent room and waved away the lingering powder, covering his nose and mouth.

“Ugh, it stinks.” he muttered, his voice muffled.

Zhao Ran emerged through the dissipating mist, his steps steady and deliberate. “Nicely done.” He knelt by the fallen beast, his gloved hands moving with the precision of a surgeon as he traced the contours of its body. Finding the precise spot, he plunged his fingers into its flesh without hesitation.

Yu An watched in silence.

Zhao Ran’s hands, clad in thin deerskin gloves, moved with uncanny sharpness, slicing through sinew and muscle with ease. Despite the gruesome nature of the task, he remained unnervingly composed, his expression almost serene, as though the act brought him satisfaction. The gloves, coated in a special substance, shed the blood effortlessly, leaving them pristine.

Yu An didn’t flinch. Instead, he crouched nearby, idly scraping at the creature’s hide with his dagger. A bare patch of skin revealed itself beneath the fur, and Yu An, ever curious, sliced off a piece of charred flesh. He skewered it on the blade and brought it to his nose.

It smelled like lamb.

Without hesitation, he took a bite. The taste confirmed it—roast lamb, though unsalted. The skin was crispy, surprisingly flavorful. Despite its grotesque mutation, the creature retained its essence. A goat was still a goat.

Does that make it food? Yu An pondered, his thoughts drifting into a strange, philosophical realm.

A sudden gaze bore into him. Yu An glanced up to find Zhao Ran staring, his expression unreadable but undeniably sharp.

“Tsk, I told you…”

Yu An licked his fingers and casually stood, stepping aside to give Zhao Ran space. He reached up, fingers brushing against the small horns now protruding from his scalp.

The realization unsettled him. He pulled his hood over his head, attempting to hide them, but the sharp tips pierced the fabric, refusing to be concealed.

A peculiar energy coursed through him, filling his limbs with vitality. His muscles buzzed with an unnatural power, like a battery overcharged.

He took a tentative step forward, then another. Without warning, his body surged forward like a blur. The speed was overwhelming, and he barely had time to process it before crashing through the wall with a resounding boom.

“….” Dust and debris rained down as Yu An emerged from the wreckage, brushing himself off. He glanced at the human-shaped hole he’d left in the wall, opened the door with his hands in his pockets, and left.

He touched his left eye experimentally. It didn’t hurt; in fact, it felt eerily normal. Covering his right eye, he realized the left granted him an almost panoramic field of vision, nearly 340 degrees wide. Goat vision, he thought, half-amused, half-dismayed.

So, I didn’t lose an eye. Gained 140 degrees of sight. Not bad.

“Stop playing around and come here.” Zhao Ran called out finally.

Rising from the Aberrant’s corpse, Zhao Ran held two shimmering cores aloft. One glowed cobalt blue, the other a vivid purple. He turned them over in his hands, their slick surfaces glinting in the light.

“This goat had only just mutated. It wasn’t fully attuned to its cores. If it had been, there’s no way you would’ve taken down a dual-core aberrant this easily. Lucky break.”

He slid the cores into a scanner, which whirred softly as it analyzed them.

The cobalt core’s data flickered across the screen, revealing its details:

Name: Aberrant Core – Goat’s Horn
Source: Goat-Headed Aberrant
Type: Common Variant
Grade: Tier 2 Blue (Cobalt)
Primary Ability: Strength and Agility Enhancement
Usage Limit: 30 minutes
Description: Greater strength! Greater miracles!
Resonance Requirement: Unknown

The deeper hue signified its rarity. Compared to Yu An’s current core, which lasted a mere ten minutes, this one extended its use to a full thirty.

The purple core, however, demanded their full attention.

After a few tense seconds, the core analyzer’s mechanical voice broke the silence:

Name: Function Core – Satan’s Guidance
Source: Goat-Headed Aberrant
Type: Common Variant
Grade: Tier 2 Purple (Mineral Purple)
Primary Ability: Induces disorientation in the target.
Usage Limit: Six activations
Description: Let the devil guide you, to where souls find their rest.
Resonance Requirement: Unknown

Zhao Ran’s voice emerged from the haze of his exhaustion, steady yet burdened. “Blue, purple, red, silver, gold—these are the core colors, their rarity increasing with each step. Within a single color, the deeper the hue, the more valuable it is. The rarest cores… They’re worth sums you can’t even begin to fathom.”

He staggered to the wall and leaned heavily against it, sliding down until he sat, boneless and weary.

The dim corridor lighting barely illuminated the space, but it seemed to linger on Zhao Ran’s pale skin, casting him in an unearthly glow. He sat with one leg bent, his posture both vulnerable and resolute. In the flickering shadows, he looked like a restless phantom caught between exhaustion and despair.

Yu An settled beside him, his presence hesitant. He didn’t understand what mistake he’d made to drain his mentor so thoroughly.

For a long while, Zhao Ran said nothing, his head tilted back, eyes closed as though the weight of the moment had pulled him under. His voice was raw as he spoke, a mixture of disbelief and despondency: “I never thought… I’d meet someone reckless enough to jam an Aberrant Core into their eye without asking a single question.”

“Is it… a problem?” Yu An asked cautiously.

“Humans who can wield Aberrant Cores are known as carriers. They’re rare, and physical defects are just the entry ticket to that exclusivity.” He paused, drawing a slow, deliberate breath. “Every defective part of a carrier’s body can hold only one core. Once it’s embedded, it becomes part of you. Permanently. You live with it. You die with it.”

He continued, his voice heavier, as though every word cost him a piece of himself: “That’s why carriers are so damn careful about choosing their cores. They take years, even decades, to find the one that’s worthy of being their permanent companion. Most go for something high-grade, rare—powerful enough to carry them through a lifetime.”

Zhao Ran leaned his head back against the wall, his voice trailing into a pained whisper. “If you were my intern… I would have moved heaven and earth to get you the best core there is. A pinnacle of strength. A masterpiece. And you—” He exhaled sharply, his eyes glassy with exasperation. “You didn’t even hesitate. You just shoved a Tier 1 Blue in there, like it was a souvenir. I swear, if I had the energy, I’d just die here and now.”

Yu An blinked, confused: “So… it’s stuck in me forever?”

Before Zhao Ran could answer, Yu An raised a hand to his left eye and casually pressed against his eyelid. A soft, squelching sound followed, and the Aberrant Core popped out like a marble.

“I took it out.” Yu An said matter-of-factly.

He aligned it with his eye socket again, giving it a slight push until it nestled back into place: “And now it’s back in.”

“…” Zhao Ran froze, his mouth slightly ajar, the gears in his mind grinding to a halt.

Yu An glanced at him and tilted his head innocently, wagging his little goat tail.