MOBA Game Apocalypse-Chapter 207: The Numbness Worsens

"What… the?"

Paul didn't move.

The smile stopped him cold—not because it was threatening, not because it looked violent, no. That would've been easier to process. Would've made sense given what he'd just watched this kid do to Dean.

No, the smile was something else entirely. It was… gentle. Almost warm.

***

A few moments earlier, beneath the earth, it was silent.

Adam couldn't hear anything else—no rumbling of the ground, no roots shifting. Just the weight of the Earth pressing against him as his body forced itself to regenerate despite being compressed.

It was dark. Completely dark. Silent… at least it was supposed to be.

You failed.

Adam's regenerating jaw tightened. Dirt pressed into the gaps between his teeth.

You could have lived with Dr. Aniston here. If only you were a good boy, Adam. You were? You are? You think so?

His fingers twitched. Tried to curl.

No. How many have you hurt?

Adam pushed. Tried to force his body upward through the soil, but all that came out was a whimper—small and thin, muffled by the earth packed against his mouth… like a child.

He knew he was strong enough to dig out. He'd torn through stone, through steel, through things that should've killed him a hundred times over. But… his limbs wouldn't listen.

Oh, Adam. Adam.

His eyes burned in the dark.

You shouldn't have left this place. You left her here, with those… and these monsters? Of course, she'll change. As much as you needed her… she needed you. And you left.

His heart throbbed, loud enough that it felt like it was outside of him… well, it was.

You're so tired, aren't you? So tired.

Adam closed his eyes. Let the dirt cradle him. Let out a long, slow sigh that sent grains scattering against his lips.

This place really took everything from you. Everything on you. Rest now. Rest… it's so heavy, right?

The voice softened.

So… let me help carry it again.

Adam's eyes snapped open.

You…? But you're me.

He could feel his thoughts flicker—like a candle in a draft, the flame bending sideways, threatening to go out but refusing to.

I am. I've always been you. I've always been with you.

Adam swallowed dirt.

The very moment you stepped inside the Hospital, I was there. Calming you down. You don't need to carry this alone. You never have.

Adam's fingers curled again. This time, they moved.

You can't take over. I'm not going to take over. That's impossible. I told you—I'm you. You're me. Let me help, Adam. As I've always done. Let me…

…let me numb the hurt.

***

Back in the present, Paul still stared at Adam.

Adam also still hadn't moved at all. He just stood there, looking at nothing in particular, that gentle expression sitting on his face, like he was thinking about something that had nothing to do with any of this.

But then, finally, he moved.

But not toward Paul.

He walked toward the dead garden bed along the side of one of the fake houses. The flowers, if they'd ever been flowers, were brittle brown husks, snapped at the stems, soil cracked and pale.

He didn't even notice it at first.

She… planted this here.

Adam crouched and brushed the dried plants with his fingers, carefully, the way someone touches something they're afraid of breaking further.

But of course, like everything in the Hospital, it broke.

Paul slammed his palm flat against the ground, and the ground beneath Adam swallowed him instantly—soil rushing up his legs, pulling him down. But Adam leapt. Not fast enough.

The ground caught his feet at the ankles, and the pull was savage, ripping both feet clean off with a wet, grinding snap. Adam hit the ground hard, rolling twice.

Paul expected him to stop… but he didn't.

Adam stood up and stepped onto his own torn leg.

The bone scraped against the cement—a sound that made Paul's stomach turn. But Adam… Adam didn't even flinch. He walked forward, each step faster than the last, and before he'd covered half the distance, Paul watched new flesh spiral down from the stumps, tendons threading themselves into shape, skin sealing over his regenerated flesh.

By the time Adam reached him, both feet were whole.

Adam's hand shot for Paul's throat. Paul jerked backward, managing to dodge it.

But then… Adam ripped off his own arm. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Wha—" The sound was horrible.

Adam gripped the severed limb by the wrist and swung it like a club, hard. Very hard.

It smashed across Paul's temple. His entire head rocked sideways, vision whiting out. He staggered, tried to turn—

But Adam's arms wrapped around his neck from behind.

"Shh." Adam's voice was quiet. Calm.

"It's alright," he whispered.

Paul gritted his teeth. His hands clawed at Adam's forearms. "Let…let me go—"

Adam sighed. The breath was warm against the back of Paul's neck.

"Don't resist," Adam said softly. "It'll hurt less that way. I'm not trying to hurt you. Just surrender… surrender to the sleep."

"Y—"

"Shh. You have that luxury. I suggest you take it."

Paul's vision started to narrow. The edges going dark.

"I'm not going to kill you," Adam continued. "Or any of them. I'm not a monster. I'm not the monster you think I am."

The arms tightened. Just enough.

"But the Hospital really is the monster I thought it was."

Paul's legs buckled, but Adam held him up.

"I'm going to destroy it. All of it. And I'm going to destroy what created it in the first place."

Adam's mouth was close to Paul's ear now.

"Sleep, Paul. Sleep. When you wake up… you'll be in a cage, too. But not because you're a monster. No." Adam's grip shifted, gentle now, guiding Paul's weight down.

"Because you deserve it. All of you do. For what you did to all those people."

Adam lowered him to the ground. Carefully. Set his head down so it wouldn't hit the stone.

Then he stood and looked around.

The gentle expression was gone, and the numbness on his face returned.

He turned toward where the new Dr. Aniston had been thrown. Found the man crumpled against the wall inside the fake building. Adam went to it and checked for a pulse.

And when he was sure he was still breathing, he sighed and stepped out.

He looked around the little street and turned toward the most normal-looking house that was separated from the rest.

There was a mailbox out front. White. Slightly crooked on its post. The name painted on the side in neat block letters: ADAMS.

Adam stopped.

His hand came up slowly and rested on the mailbox. His thumb traced the letters. The paint was slightly raised and slightly chipped at the edges. He stood there for a long moment, touching it… but his face remained empty.

Then he stepped onto the porch. The boards groaned under him. He pushed the door open; it wasn't locked, probably never been locked, and stepped inside.

Nothing.

Completely empty. No furniture. No pictures on the walls. No rug on the floor. Just bare drywall and hollow rooms, and the faint smell of paint that had long since dried.

Adam sighed and didn't step in any further.

He turned around, walked back to the porch, and sat down. Rested his elbows on his knees. Stared out at the ruined street and the unconscious bodies and the fake sky above his head.

And almost as if on cue, the earpiece crackled.

<Adam!> The Forger's voice screamed in his ear. <The IBAA, the FBI, the entire goddamn brigade is here. We're underground. Where are you? Adam? Are you alive? God damn it, baby. Respond.>

Adam sighed again.

"You'll find me at the end," he said quietly.

<What do you—>

He pulled the earpiece out and set it on the step beside him, and slowly, he closed his eyes.

Is it really over? Just like this?

Everything just felt… anticlimactic. All the rage he wanted to feel. All the running he had done. All the blood and the teeth and the burning and the years of hiding and the years before that of being hidden.

And it ended on a porch. On a fake porch, on a fake street, in a fake neighborhood built underground by a woman.

By a woman who loved him enough to imagine a life for him… but not enough to let him live it.

Adam brushed a finger beneath his eye… but there was nothing there. Not a sweat, and not a tear.

Why… wasn't he feeling anything?

Adam felt himself losing consciousness. No. Not that. It was… sleep. Actual sleep. The kind that …just arrives. Something Adam had never truly felt before.

Rest.

His vision shifted. Minutes passed. And he could hear voices—distant at first, then closer. Boots on stone. Radios crackling. Someone shouting orders.

Then the Forger's voice, right in front of him.

"Adam. Hey. Are you alright?"

Adam opened his eyes, and he felt groggy and… rested at the same time. The Forger crouched on the porch step below him, staring at his face.

"...Here." Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out the USB dongle. Turned it over in his fingers. The casing was cracked, scuffed, smeared with dirt and blood, but the drive itself was intact. Somehow. After everything.

"Expose them," Adam said.

The Forger took it. Looked at it. Looked at Adam.

The Forger then watched Adam stand up… and casually enter the house.

"Adam…?"

"I think… I'm going to sleep for a bit." Adam glanced back at him and sighed.

"Huh…? Now?"

"Yeah. Just… wake me up when it's over."

And with those words, Adam just closed the door behind him.