Unholy Player Chapter 510 More Than a Commander

This chamber was significantly larger, exceeding the size of the previous one by more than threefold.

The aesthetic remained consistent, continuing the glass-cage motif; however, these enclosures held bizarre entities rather than animals.

Massive slimes in shades of gray and green possessed gelatinous forms that shifted sluggishly against the floors of their cells. Some creatures were no larger than a fist, remaining eerily motionless until a sudden twitch betrayed them. Others appeared to be mere boulders, yet a glance at their glass prisons sparked a disturbing realization that they were far from ordinary stones—as if something sentient lurked within the stillness.

The entire area was crowded with these specimens. It was a hall overflowing with Sparks, each possessing unique shapes and powers, every cage meticulously tagged and watched like a contained hazard.

Rhys scanned the enclosures, noting that several new Sparks had been added since his last visit. His attention then shifted to a group of elderly researchers in white lab coats who were hurrying toward him.

"Oh, Mr. Rhys, have you arrived for today's examination?" the leading woman inquired with a gentle tone, halting at a respectful distance.

"I have," Rhys replied noncommittally. "I also brought a delivery from your favorite source. He expressed his hope that you utilize it effectively to finally complete the serums."

"Mr. Adyr?" The woman's eyes lit up with immediate realization, her voice tinged with a hint of thrill.

Moments later, staff members emerged from a side door, transporting buckets of crimson powder toward her. They moved with extreme caution, as if carrying volatile evidence.

The woman and her team of scientists inspected the powder with visible fervor, their focus narrowing until the rest of the laboratory seemed to fade away. As they worked, Rhys remarked, "I already ingested a portion of it about thirty minutes ago."

The ambient chatter ceased instantly. A heavy silence filled the room before the woman’s voice sharped the air. "Quickly, get the operating room ready!"

She turned her gaze toward Rhys. "Mr. Rhys, that was incredibly impulsive. Please come with me to the operating room immediately so we can assess whether it has caused any internal damage."

Rhys observed her expression and noted the frantic tone, letting out a dry chuckle. "I told you, you can stop pretending."

He could sense the excitement hidden beneath their masks of concern—the kind of scientific zeal they tried to suppress with professionalism. To them, analyzing the effects of Adyr’s miraculous resource on a human subject was far more important than any individual's well-being. "Whatever do you mean, Mr. Rhys?" the woman asked, her pitch rising slightly. "Naturally, we are concerned for your safety, considering you are our sole test subject."

She turned away, seemingly unbothered by her own bluntness, and led the way as a larger contingent of researchers fell in line behind them.

While following, Rhys continued to observe the Sparks in their glass homes until he reached a section containing humanoid figures.

Several glass cylinders held bodies suspended in fluid, their pale forms drifting in clinical stasis. Upon closer inspection, it was clear these corpses—surgically dissected for study and preserved like museum specimens—were members of the Umbraen race.

He also spotted five new arrivals that hadn't been there yesterday. Their appearances were distinct from the Umbraens, yet there was a hauntingly familiar quality to their features.

"Who are these new fortunate souls?" he questioned, though he had a strong suspicion regarding their origins.

The woman and the scientists paused, looking toward the tubes. The lead researcher spoke, unable to mask her enthusiasm.

"They belong to the Lunari race, recently delivered by Mr. Adyr. According to our data, they are connected to a path known as the Blood Path."

"Understood." Rhys offered a small smile, averted his eyes, and continued following the team.

The realization that even the ancestors of the prestigious Lunari race had ended up as lab rats in this facility provided him a strange sense of solace; it was proof that no one was truly untouchable.

Leaving the specimen and Spark section behind, they entered a sterile, white room containing only a single piece of equipment: a padded medical operating chair. It was an adjustable hybrid of a table and a chair, equipped with restraint straps on the armrests and leg supports.

The segmented padding indicated it was designed to keep a patient completely immobile during a procedure.

Familiar with the routine, Rhys began stripping off his uniform without waiting for a command. He unfastened and discarded every layer with practiced efficiency until he stood entirely bare, not even keeping his underwear.

Once he was fully exposed to the room, he turned to the researchers, who were staring at his frame in visible horror.

"What?" He made a casual gesture toward his lower half, his voice laced with mockery. "This isn't the first time you've looked at me."

However, his nudity wasn't the cause of their shock. It was the horrific state of his body.

From the neck down, Rhys appeared to be in a state of active decomposition. Skin had sloughed off in patches. The underlying flesh had softened, sagging into a sludge-like texture that was wet, uneven, and resembled rotting tissue unable to maintain its form.

In certain areas, the flesh had turned dark, speckled with irregular blotches of whitish pus, giving him the appearance of a walking corpse ravaged by disease.

His entire physique looked like it belonged in a grave. Even the hardened researchers felt a dull throb of sympathetic mental pain just by looking at him.

"Mr. Rhys... do you not feel any pain?" the woman whispered, her voice tightening as she recalled that he hadn't looked this bad yesterday. While his body had been nearing its breaking point for some time, deteriorating day by day, his current condition was catastrophic. It was a wonder a body in such a state could even stand, let alone walk.

"Pain? Of course I feel it. It hurts like absolute hell. Why do you think I hurried here so early?"

The woman searched his face, but found no trace of agony. She couldn't fathom the mental fortitude required to endure the torment his nervous system must be screaming.

She turned to her assistants. "Quickly, prepare the anesthesia."

They were scientists with hearts like stone and nerves of steel, dedicated solely to their work. Yet, even she felt the urge to numb his suffering, or at least alleviate it slightly.

They moved to comply, but stopped when Rhys intervened. "There's no need. I can take it. Just begin the procedure."

He walked toward the chair. With every stride, bits of skin and flesh dripped onto the pristine floor in sluggish clumps, leaving wet trails across the white tiles. The staff quickly looked away, focusing intently on their tools instead.

When he finally sat, he did so without a second thought, treating his mangled body as nothing more than a disposable instrument. "Just gather your data. Finish the serum."

Witnessing his resolve in such a state, the researchers felt a heavy weight in their chests.

They all understood the force driving that decaying frame forward.

It wasn't a craving for power or a blind greed leading him toward the grave.

Nor was it a passion for science or the kind of obsession that usually advances humanity.

He had only one goal. He was pushing himself to be the ultimate test subject, striving to be both the first and the final person to endure the trials of this new serum.

Following the nuclear cataclysm, it had taken humanity decades to develop the initial mutation serums. It took even longer to produce second-generation mutants and perfect the process for human application.

Yet now, to evolve the serum into this advanced state, it had taken barely over a month. The speed of progress was staggering. This was only possible because they had a volunteer willing to let them test the serum's effects directly on a living human. Rhys was well aware of the stakes. If he perished, the researchers would seek out another viable subject from the second-generation mutants, likely starting with the STF. Rhys refused to let that happen, doing everything in his power to ensure it remained unnecessary.

Ultimately, conducting every phase of the research on a living subject was the most efficient way to refine the serum.

There was another reason for Rhys’s urgency, why he consumed the product like water and pressured the scientists. He wanted a method to empower the members of the STF—the people he considered his family—as quickly as possible.

In the Beyond, peril was constant, coming not just from Sparks, but primarily from other races.

Among humanity, only a select few were fortunate enough to become Players, gaining boundless power with each passing day.

But for ordinary soldiers to survive in this new era, they required an edge as well.

Even a minor enhancement could mean the difference between life and death. They relied on the gear provided by the researchers, and this new serum promised to be their ultimate lifeline.

Rhys, who understood this better than anyone, was martyring himself before their eyes. He was sacrificing his own flesh so they could receive a finished product and stand on equal footing with the lucky Players.

He did it so they wouldn't be left behind. So they wouldn't be thrown into conflicts as mere pawns, their lives discarded like expendable pieces on a board.

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A/N: Wishing you a 2026 where your worries fade and your wishes finally come true.