He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but the rich kid’s hands were excessively slender. Adam Carter held out his own hand to compare—the other’s webbing was clearly larger than a normal person’s... and almost translucent, with visible veins underneath.

It seemed that people parasitized and contaminated by fish eggs also suffered from dehydration.

Logically, Adam Carter should be calling the authorities right now.

But the rich kid looked very different from his photo.

And he was a bit curious about the mutation process of the contaminated.

Adam Carter asked the system, “Under normal circumstances, can I handle an F-class contaminant?”

System: [It’s fifty-fifty. After all, you’re also a bottom-tier Awakener in the food chain. This kind of contaminant can still be killed with ordinary physical attacks.]

So, Adam Carter gave up on making the call. Instead, he took his compound bow out from under the bed and spent the afternoon practicing his archery.

Seventh day of city lockdown.

Nightfall.

Adam Carter didn’t have many entertainment options; his usual hobbies were swimming, archery, and reading. Now he couldn’t swim, and he was tired of shooting arrows at home, so reading was all that was left. Luckily, he’d installed bookshelves on all four walls of his bedroom, neatly organized, with at least two thousand books—enough to last him a lifetime.

Adam Carter closed his book, rubbed his dry brow, and went to sleep.

But this time, he didn’t sleep well.

Because at the door, there was a faint... sound of someone picking the lock.

Adam Carter glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand.

It was three in the morning.

……

……

Late at night, K City was utterly silent. Ever since the lockdown order, everyone’s nighttime activity had become playing on their phones.

So, the persistent ringing of the doorbell seemed especially eerie.

He picked up his compound bow and hid the military knife he’d bought earlier under his clothes, finally feeling a bit more secure.

The lights in the hallway flickered dimly, as if there was a loose connection.

Adam Carter tiptoed to the door and turned on the peephole camera.

The monitor showed the visitor.

Judging by his clothes, it was the rich kid who lived diagonally across from Adam Carter; Adam Carter vaguely remembered his name was Kevin Miller.

Kevin Miller’s entire skin looked wrinkled, as if soaked in water, with green patches like moss appearing on his body.

His gaze was vacant, most of his eyeball exposed to the air, as if it could fall out of the socket at any moment.

Kevin Miller’s long fingers anxiously pressed the doorbell, translucent slime dripping from the webbing.

[Oh boy, the toad wants to eat swan meat.] The system’s tone was mocking.

Adam Carter gave up on the idea of opening the door. This humanoid toad was just too ugly—it made him a little nauseous.

But the big toad clearly wasn’t planning to let Adam Carter go.

Kevin Miller’s nose twitched, and his vacant pupils instantly turned into vertical slits.

“Senior, I like you. You know that, right?” Kevin Miller’s tone carried a barely noticeable excitement. “I know you like me too, you’re just a bit reserved. I’m so rich, it’s only natural you’d have thoughts about me. It must be something my dad said to you that made you avoid me. But now, I’ve thought of a way for us to be together forever.”

The next second, he shot out his tongue with incredible agility.

Frogs rely on their tongues to hunt—long and flexible, with a forked tip.

Now, that tongue twisted into a strange arc in the air, then slipped into the lock cylinder.

In that instant, Adam Carter regretted not installing an electrode in the lock. Of course, it wasn’t really his fault—his life experience just hadn’t prepared him for this.

If someone had told him before that a person could pick a lock with their tongue, he’d have told them to take a right at the psychiatry department.

Adam Carter silently raised his bow.

A few minutes later, with a soft “click,” the door opened a crack.

Light from outside spilled in, and Adam Carter could hear his own not-so-rapid heartbeat.

Kevin Miller’s mutated webbed hand gripped the door, and he asked gently, “Senior, you’re obviously home... why won’t you open the door?”

Adam Carter’s nerves were stretched to the limit.

He stood behind the cabinet—this angle would let him dodge immediately after shooting.

Adam Carter didn’t answer. He released his fingers, and the arrowhead shot precisely at the intruder’s neck.

Against a normal person, this arrow would be enough to pierce straight through. But when it hit Kevin Miller’s neck, it only sank in shallowly.

Foul-smelling blood sprayed out. The frog-man shuddered in pain, his eyes bulging, spurting yellow fluid.

The wound from the arrowhead wasn’t fatal, but it clearly made the monster even angrier.

It leapt, its head nearly hitting the ceiling. Both its speed and distance far exceeded human limits.

Too fast.

So much so that when Adam Carter heard the system’s voice, he instinctively obeyed.

[Roll.]

Adam Carter rolled across the floor, grabbed the military knife in his pocket, but quickly let go.

Not yet. He’d already tried the compound bow—ordinary melee weapons would hardly incapacitate Kevin Miller. He could try stabbing the eyes, but given the huge difference in strength, Adam Carter would probably only get one chance.