Eric had already conducted her own experiment: consuming the supermarket food only exacerbated her insatiable hunger. The problem did not lie with the food itself—no matter what she ate, the ravenous craving persisted. Yet, she dared not voice this truth aloud.
Regarding the division of labor, she opted to join the grave-digging party, driven by a desire to uncover more critical clues on her own.
Ultimately, Nicole, the now-conscious Christine, and Timothy ventured forth to forage for alternative sustenance, while the remainder proceeded to the buried resting grounds.
Excavating graves was no simple task; first, they had to procure tools.
The small courtyard lacked shovels, hoes, or any proper implements. Left with no alternatives, the group dismantled chairs to fashion crude wooden stakes for digging.
The afternoon proved the sweltering zenith, and with few villagers venturing outdoors, Eric and her companions skirted human contact as they slipped into the rear hills. Twisting and turning through the mountain paths, they eventually arrived at the graveyard.
The burial grounds lay in disarray—haphazard mounds scattered here and there, devoid of tombstones or any markers to verify identities. It was evident these were not the graves of locals.
"The tattered cloth we found last time was here," Kevin pointed to one mound.
"Then we dig here first," Jason commanded, taking up the task.
With several hands working in concert, the mound was soon unearthed.
Beneath the soil lay skeletal remains—not just one, but a tangled heap of bones piled atop one another.
"Could these be... a batch of players buried together? If players from the same group share a grave, what of all the other mounds?" Samantha glanced toward the vast expanse of graves stretching endlessly before them, a chill snaking from her feet to her heart, leaving her shivering.
"Let's extract the bones and examine them," Jason was the first to act.
Eric hurried to assist, lifting a skeleton alongside him, while Kevin and Samantha followed suit with another.
Soon, five sets of bones were scattered on the ground before them.
The five individuals varied in stature and build, but one trait was uniform: their spinal columns were fractured, the bones of their thoracic cages shattered and cracked.
"I once saw on television that women's pelvic bones change after childbirth..." Jason noted thoughtfully, inspecting the remains.
"The internet says women have wider pelvises compared to men's narrower shapes. Judging by this, there might be three female players and two male players here," Samantha chimed in, analyzing.
"These victims appear to have been violently distended in their abdominal cavities prior to death, resulting in broken spines and cracked rib cages. Does this remind anyone of Ronald's condition?" Eric ventured tentatively.
Before departing, they had delivered Ronald his midday meal. In the morning, his already enormous belly had grown yet larger. Frail and breathless, he nonetheless sprang up upon smelling food, devouring it in mere mouthfuls and clamoring loudly for more. The sight haunted Eric still.
He had but erred once and suffered an irreversible fate.
Would Ronald's resting place after this trial be among the fresh graves in this desolate plot? Eric dared not imagine.
"If he does not regain clarity, these bones will be his fate. Without lucidity, salvation is impossible," Kevin said, setting down a vertebra and querying Jason, "Shall we continue digging?"
No clues yet surfaced amid the bones of this mound.
"Keep at it," Jason replied.
They unearthed ten or so more graves consecutively—each revealing only skeletal remains. After so many, subtle discoveries emerged.
Some remains bore injuries beyond the fractured spines and rib cages: blunt-force trauma that shattered bone into fragments; clean cuts consistent with sharp blades; scorched bones, as though the victims had been burned alive.
Eric even glimpsed shattered carcasses, their missing parts long vanished.
"The days ahead won't be easy. The increased hunger is merely an appetizer," Jason grunted, discarding his makeshift digging stick and squatting to rest. The compression aggravated his discomfort, prompting a grimace as he lowered himself to sit.
"My stomach aches; this pregnancy sensation feels uncannily real," Samantha murmured, clutching her abdomen with a wry smile.
"Let's rest a moment, then descend. The sun is setting," Eric looked to the sky.
"Will the village chief come to escort Ronald to pay respects at the ancestral hall tonight?" Kevin inquired.
As they returned to the courtyard, they encountered the villagers delivering supper. An additional person had joined the party—eight barrels of food this time.
They seemed intent on fattening them to bursting.
The fragrant aroma seeped through gaps between lids and barrels, ensnaring the players' gazes as if by a hook.
Jason clenched his palms to maintain composure. "Stick to the plan."
The villagers deposited the eight barrels in the living room and retreated. Nicole and her companions, having returned from their food search, awaited inside, eyes fixed on the barrels.
Christine was the first to lose control, instinctively moving toward the barrels. Nicole and Timothy immediately seized her, pulling her back into a room.
"Watch her here; I'll bring you food shortly," Timothy instructed, receiving Nicole's nod in reply.
Upon entering, Jason and his group immediately set aside two barrels, then hoisted the remaining six and discarded the food into the drainage ditch just beyond the courtyard.
Timothy swallowed hard. "Two barrels should suffice. What's for dinner?"
"We kept one barrel of rice and one of soup. Did you manage to find any other provisions?"
"Nothing at all. We even sneaked into villagers' homes—the rice bins were all empty; the pigpens and chicken coops were utterly devoid of feathers or droppings. We have no idea what they normally eat… or perhaps they don't eat at all? Besides, with no food in the village, where could this food have come from?" The topic chilled Timothy to the bone, sapping his appetite and casting doubt over the evening meal.
Samantha, well aware of the situation, sighed. "We didn't see a single bird on the mountain. It seems this dungeon offers no alternative means of sustenance. Some dungeons forbid eating NPC food; others require it. Usually, the food itself isn't the issue."
"Is Ronald still alive?" Eric asked.
"He's still breathing, but barely. When we returned, we found he had bitten off the flesh of his other calf."
A shiver ran down Eric's spine. She had experienced such pain before and knew its torment intimately—yet Ronald's ordeal was far worse, inflicted by the monstrous bite force of the beast-headed creature. To gnaw off one's own calves must be agony beyond imagining.
"As long as he's alive, that's something," Jason shifted the conversation. "Let's start dinner. I believe the NPC food is safe to eat—if the dungeon allows it, then we must trust it. We'll feed one at a time; let Christine eat first, and we'll watch her closely."
They served bowls of rice and soup. Under vigilant watch, Christine ate with trembling caution. Yet as she fed, the insatiable hunger overwhelmed her, driving her into frenzy despite their efforts to subdue her. Attempts to render her unconscious failed.
"Look at her eyes—they're unnerving," Nicole exclaimed.
Eric glanced over and indeed saw Christine's pupils had narrowed to sharp, unnatural slits, lifeless and alien. Her gaze dropped to Christine's belly, where two or three tiny palm prints were visible beneath the skin. Tentatively, Eric reached out a trembling hand to touch the swollen stomach.
*Slap!*
A tiny hand tapped her through the skin.
Eric held her breath and stepped back, then looked down at her own abdomen. Fortunately, no such signs had appeared there—yet.
At nineteen, Eric had never known love, yet now she was living a nightmare of pregnancy and childbirth inside a dungeon, possibly carrying a genuine spirit fetus. The psychological toll was nearly overwhelming. Had she not grown resilient through countless trials, she might have shattered utterly.
"Just put Christine back in the room and lock her up. Throwing her in the well doesn't work—we tried at noon and soon after, she lost control again," Samantha insisted.
So Christine was confined once more.
Timothy was next to eat, Jason ordering based on the size of each person's belly; the larger the abdomen, the more danger they posed. Their priority was to protect the most vulnerable players.
Timothy had eaten well at breakfast and lunch, and nodded gravely: "Then I'll eat second."
His first few bites were swift, but as he continued, his eyes began to mirror Christine's. Had Kevin not swiftly overturned his bowl, Timothy might have devoured even the vessel itself!
Jason gripped him firmly, and with Kevin's aid, threw him into the well. As at midday, the water revived him, and after a time, he sat soaked on the ground, fixated on Kevin's meal.
Kevin finished eating without incident, followed by Samantha, Jason, and Eric—they all managed to restrain their appetites without drastic measures.
"Seems your belly is smallest, Eric. Well, you haven't eaten much," Samantha remarked appreciatively. "You're the youngest here—I didn't expect such self-control. I know we mustn't overeat, but the hunger devours my reason. It feels like this meal might be our last chance. Every morsel nourishes those ghostly fetuses inside!"
Eric understood this confidence came from her supermarket provisions—a safety net within the game allowing her ample food and clothing, muting her urge to overindulge. Yet even as she ate, an internal voice urged her on: *Eat now or lose your chance!*
She focused her mind on the supermarket's aisles, brimming with goods, and suddenly that ominous voice lost its power.
There was plenty to eat at home.
With that thought, Eric ate scarcely more than a bowl of rice and half a bowl of soup—by far the least among the players. Nicole, whose build was similar, consumed two bowls each of rice and soup—double her usual intake.
Flushed, Eric confessed, "I've always been a bit picky; these aren't foods I usually favor."
"Picky isn't bad—in this dungeon, it's an advantage. Eating less is prudent."
"Let's go wait in Ronald's room. The village chief should be arriving soon." After a brief respite, Jason stood.
The room's atmosphere grew tense; Ronald's condition was indeed precarious.
They brought dinner: two bowls of rice and one of soup. Ronald devoured them in seconds, his movements so swift they blurred.
"I… I want more…" Ronald reached out, dragging his bloodied legs forward as he crawled.
He remained unconscious, unable to purchase healing items, and no one offered him theirs.
Eric herself had lent a healing pack to a fellow player once—Denis—who later perished in a zombie's grasp, rendering the aid wasted, yet she harbored no regrets.
Ronald's plight was different. As a confused mind, he chewed off his own limbs despite healing. Unless he continuously received healing packs, his efforts were futile.
Neither Eric nor Jason felt capable of bearing responsibility for Ronald's fragile life should he lose all reason.