Unholy Player Chapter 510 More Than a Commander

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

The aesthetic remained consistent, continuing the glass-cage motif. However, instead of common animals, these enclosures held bizarre entities.

Massive slimes in shades of green and gray rested there, their gelatinous, mucus-like forms shifting sluggishly against the floor. Some creatures were no larger than a fist, remaining eerily motionless until a sudden twitch betrayed their life. Others mimicked the appearance of ordinary stones, yet a glance at their containment cells triggered a disturbing realization—they were anything but inanimate, as if something sentient lurked within the stillness.

The room was overflowing with these specimens. It was a gallery of Sparks, each possessing unique forms and powers, every cage meticulously tagged and observed as a regulated hazard.

Rhys scanned the enclosures, noting several new Sparks that had been added since the day before. His gaze then shifted to a group of elderly men and women dressed in white lab coats who were hurrying toward him.

"Oh, Mr. Rhys, have you arrived for today's examination?" the lead woman inquired warmly, halting at a respectful distance.

"Indeed," Rhys replied with indifference. "I’ve also brought a delivery from your top supplier. He expressed his hope that you utilize it effectively to finally complete the serums."

"Mr. Adyr?" The woman gasped, her voice tinged with immediate excitement as she understood his meaning.

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

The woman and her fellow researchers inspected the powder with visible fervor, their focus narrowing until the rest of the laboratory seemed to fade away. While they were distracted, Rhys remarked, "I already ingested some of it about thirty minutes ago."

The lively chatter vanished instantly. A heavy silence filled the room before the woman’s voice sliced through the tension. "Quickly, get the operating room ready!"

She pivoted toward Rhys. "Mr. Rhys, that was incredibly reckless. Please, follow me to the operating room immediately so we can determine if it has caused any internal damage."

Observing her expression and hearing the frantic tone, Rhys let out a dry chuckle. "I told you, there's no need to keep up the act."

He could see the raw thrill beneath their masks of concern—the kind of scientific hunger they tried to hide behind professional veneers. To them, analyzing the effects of Adyr’s miraculous resource on a human subject was far more important than any individual life. "What are you implying, Mr. Rhys?" the woman asked, her pitch rising. "We are naturally concerned for your well-being, as you are our only test subject."

She turned away, seemingly unbothered by her own bluntness, and guided him forward while a larger assembly of researchers trailed behind them.

As Rhys walked, his eyes drifted over the Sparks in their cells until he encountered several humanoid figures.

Large glass cylinders held bodies suspended in fluid, their pale forms drifting in clinical stasis. Upon closer inspection, it was clear these corpses had been surgically dissected for study and preserved like biological specimens; they 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 they shared a hauntingly familiar look.

"Who are these new lucky souls?" he questioned, though he had already deduced their identity.

The research team paused, looking toward the tanks. The lead woman spoke, unable to suppress her enthusiasm.

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

"I see." Rhys offered a faint smile, turned his gaze away, and followed the scientists deeper into the facility.

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

Passing through the specimen and Spark section, 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 arm and leg rests.

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

Familiar with the routine, Rhys began stripping off his uniform without being told. He unfastened and discarded every layer with practiced efficiency until he stood completely naked.

Once fully exposed to the room, he turned to the researchers, who were staring at his physique with sheer horror.

"What?" He made a dismissive gesture toward his waist, his voice dripping with mockery. "You’ve seen all this before."

However, it wasn't modesty that shocked them; it was the state of his physical degradation.

From the neck down, Rhys appeared to be a living corpse. Skin had peeled away in large patches. The underlying flesh had turned soft and saggy, possessing a sludge-like texture that looked like rotting tissue unable to maintain its own structure.

In various spots, his flesh had turned dark, speckled with irregular blotches of whitish pus, giving him the appearance of someone riddled with a terminal decay.

His entire frame resembled that of a cadaver. Even these hardened researchers felt a dull throb of mental distress just by looking at him.

"Mr. Rhys... do you not feel any pain?" the woman asked, her voice trembling as she realized 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 state was far worse. It was a mystery to anyone watching how such a body could still function.

"Pain? Of course I do. It’s agonizing. Why do you think I hurried here so early?"

The woman searched his face, but his expression remained perfectly calm. She couldn't comprehend the mental fortitude required to endure the level of suffering his body was surely generating.

She turned to her colleagues. "Prepare the anesthesia, now!"

They were scientists with hearts of stone and nerves of steel, dedicated solely to their work. Yet, even she felt the urge to dull the torment he was experiencing.

As they moved to comply, Rhys stopped them. "Don't bother. I can take it. Just begin the procedure."

He walked toward the chair. With every stride, bits of skin and flesh sloughed off, dripping onto the pristine floor in wet, sluggish clumps. The staff quickly looked away, focusing intently on their diagnostic tools.

When he sat down, he did so without a hint of hesitation, treating his mangled body as nothing more than a disposable instrument. "Just gather the 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 body forward.

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

Nor was it a scholarly obsession with research for the sake of human progress.

He had only one goal. He was pushing himself to be the ultimate test subject, striving to be the first and final vessel for the new serum they were developing.

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, they had advanced this new serum to its current stage in just over a month. The speed of progress was staggering. This was only possible because they had a volunteer willing to test the serum’s effects directly on his own living flesh. Rhys understood this perfectly. If he perished, the researchers would seek out another suitable candidate from the second-generation mutants, likely from the STF. Rhys refused to let that happen, so he did everything in his power to ensure it wasn't necessary.

Ultimately, testing every phase on a live 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 demanded the researchers work faster. He wanted to strengthen the members of the STF—the people he considered his family—as quickly as possible.

In the Beyond, lethality was everywhere, coming not just from Sparks, but primarily from other races.

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

But for the standard 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 technology the researchers built, particularly this new serum, which promised to be a vital lifeline.

Rhys, who understood this better than anyone, was martyring himself before their eyes. He was sacrificing his own life so they could receive a finished product and stand a chance against the gifted Players.

He did it so they wouldn't be left behind. So they wouldn't be used as disposable pawns in wars, their lives treated as nothing more than 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.