Unholy Player-Chapter 214: Mad Scientist

While chaos was unfolding across every Shelter City, an aged man with black hair streaked clearly with white stood in a dark room before 13 screens. His back was straight, eyes focused, and brows furrowed.

Twelve of the screens showed the worn faces of elderly men, and the thirteenth was currently playing the massacre scene involving Adyr.

The man standing before the screens, showing absolute respect in his demeanor toward them, was Henry Bates. All twelve screens were displaying video calls with the City Managers of the twelve Shelter Cities.

"Sir, with all due respect, the situation has spiraled out of control," Henry Bates said, bowing his head respectfully.

Since Adyr began mowing down the mutant army, those watching the live broadcast started showing strange symptoms. Reports kept coming in—people fainting suddenly, some collapsing with heart attacks, and even deaths.

And these were not small numbers. Just in Shelter City 9, the death toll had already passed a thousand.

Unable to bear it, Henry raised his head and looked at the faces of the elderly men and women before him. Each was a founder of one of the twelve cities that had survived the apocalypse. They were nearing 300 years of age.

Even with the advanced mutant genes coursing through their bodies, they looked like dry branches—aged and fragile, dependent on machines just to breathe. Yet in their eyes burned an unyielding stubbornness, a refusal to die.

Alongside that, fear was visible on their faces, their bodies trembling slightly. It was clear that Adyr’s combination of Presence and Malice was affecting them deeply.

After several long seconds of silence, Henry couldn’t take the pressure anymore and opened his mouth. "We need to cut the broadcast now—before the damage becomes irreversible."

Henry was deeply concerned. He was the one who had assigned Adyr the mission to stop the mutant assault—but the order hadn’t been his alone. The City Manager had directly instructed him to do so.

Of course, he hadn’t anticipated an outcome like this. Had he known, he would’ve opposed the order without hesitation. But now, there was nothing he could do—except plead with the twelve City Managers to shut the broadcast down.

But the answer he received wasn’t what he expected.

"We can’t," said one of the elderly women, her voice worn with age.

"Why?" Henry asked, eyes narrowing in confusion.

Another man responded this time, his voice just as old and weighed down with exhaustion. "It’s not something we can decide," he said. After a brief pause, he added, "Or interfere with."

Henry felt a jolt of disbelief. "What do you mean?"

The faces on the screens belonged to the twelve most powerful figures on Earth. With a single word, any one of them could ignite wars or broker peace. And now they claimed they didn’t have the authority to stop a broadcast? It sounded like complete nonsense.

Until a new screen flickered on in the dark room.

A shadowed silhouette appeared, and a young yet deep voice echoed through the silence.

"They mean they have no power to oppose fate."

Henry turned to look at the new figure who had joined the conversation. The silhouette on the screen was completely shrouded in shadow—no features were visible. Yet the moment this person appeared, all twelve City Managers fell utterly silent. Their tense postures and faintly respectful demeanor made it clear this was no ordinary individual.

A name surfaced in Henry’s mind, but he asked to be sure. "Forgive my disrespect, sir, but... who might you be?"

"Me?" The shadowed figure tilted his head slightly, then gave a low chuckle.

"I’m someone whose curiosity led him to meet fate—and someone lucky enough to be chosen to carry its message."

After a pause, he noticed the confusion on Henry’s face, chuckled again, and added, "You can call me Mad Scientist. I’ve grown fond of the nickname."

This was the man behind the discovery of the new world—the one who had invented the game helmets.

Henry had heard the name many times before, but this was his first time speaking with the man directly. He bowed his head slightly and said with respect, "It’s an honor to meet you, sir."

"No need to be formal with me," the shadow replied casually. "After all, you’re one of fate’s chosen, too. Even if not chosen to play the game."

Henry didn’t quite understand what he meant by that, and judging by the man’s tone, he had no intention of explaining. So Henry moved on to what mattered most.

"Sir, please. We need to stop the broadcast."

It was clear this man had the power to do it—maybe he was the only one who could.

But once again, the response left Henry in quiet frustration.

"Nope. It stays," the shadow said, just as relaxed as before.

Henry’s shoulders slumped slightly. His voice came out low and strained. "Why?"

Every second, another life was slipping away, triggered by sudden heart attacks with no clear medical explanation. The exact cause was still unknown, but the source was obvious: that strange sensation emanating from Adyr. Whatever it was, it was somehow affecting everyone watching the screen.

The shadowy figure paused for a brief moment. Then, in a deep, razor-sharp tone, he spoke:

"Because today is Judgment Day."

Even without seeing his face, Henry could tell the man was smiling.

Before he could ask what that meant, the figure continued, his voice steady, almost reverent:

"The walls are cracking, and our dimension is entering a new era. The unworthy are being purged. Only those chosen by fate—people like you and me—will remain to witness what comes next."

A chill ran down Henry’s spine. Something in the way he said it made it clear: this wasn’t a metaphor.

"What do you mean by fate?" Henry asked, his gaze shifting toward the screen where Adyr was still fighting. What was purging people right now wasn’t something abstract like fate—it was him. That boy.

Sensing what Henry was thinking, the Mad Scientist immediately responded.

"No, no," he said quickly. "He’s not fate. Nor is he someone chosen by it."

His shadowed form leaned closer to the screen, and this time, his voice came twisted, cracking, and warped with a hint of madness.

"Instead, he’s someone who will one day try to judge fate itself."

With that, the shadow leaned back and, in a teasing tone, called out, "No more spoilers." The screen abruptly went dark, cutting off the transmission and leaving behind a room full of stunned, questioning faces.

As Henry looked at the twelve aged faces on the screens, all he saw were the same uncertain expressions—questioning, confused. But beneath that, there was something else. A quiet resignation, as if they had grown used to such cryptic conversations.

"Henry," said the City Manager of Shelter City 9 in a slow, measured tone, "I know it’s complicated. My advice? Don’t try to understand it. It’ll be easier that way."

Another nodded and added, "Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Everything will unfold smoothly. Just remember—this is all for the new era... and to finally end the cycle."

With those words, the twelve screens abruptly shut off, leaving Henry alone in the dark room, surrounded by silence—and a thousand unanswered questions.