Chapter Forty-Three: The Sect of Carnal Desire

Through the haze, Ji Ning cradled his compact submachine gun, his tactical boots silent upon the floor. He was left with only a single magazine filled with 7.62mm rounds, and the comms crackled now and then with static.

He suddenly turned—on the elevator display, the numbers were steadily approaching his floor. Gripping the weapon, he waited quietly. “16, 15, 14… 7.” The numbers stopped changing, and he seemed to hear someone breathing inside the elevator.

“Ding.” As soon as the doors slid open, Ji Ning emptied the magazine in a hail of bullets, but when the smoke cleared, the elevator was empty. Only a small box sat inside. Ji Ning approached warily, and when he was about six meters away, the box emitted a voice: “Dear Ji Ning, how about turning around?”

Ji Ning was just about to turn when a cold gun barrel pressed against his waist. He sighed and laid down his weapon.

A man clad in a tactical jacket kicked Ji Ning’s gun aside and spoke into the comms, “Position B7 is secured, enemy target captured, requesting permission to execute flanking tactics.”

But Ji Ning paid no mind to his own capture.

He waited until the man finished speaking, then smiled slightly. “Your team’s tactic is to surround and reinforce, eliminate one by one, isn’t it?”

The burly man ignored him and raised his rifle. “Move forward.”

Though Ji Ning considered himself tough, he obediently walked and talked.

Everyone was using paint rounds specially made by the Academy’s Operations Division, but Ji Ning’s outfit had been picked out by Qin Mo—he wasn’t about to let it get ruined.

He continued at a leisurely pace, “Your main objective is to score points by controlling areas, advancing step by step, gradually eating away at the territory to secure control of all scoring points in Zone B. But you’re going to lose.”

“Why?”

“I must admit your technical team is strong—they cut off our electronic communications early. But that’s precisely why I’m sure you’re going to lose.”

Ji Ning spoke plainly, knowing the other side was already out of time.

“Because you know our team’s comms were cut, you settled on advancing step by step, scoring by controlling points. But did you ever consider we might not need electronic communications at all? What if we didn’t choose to defend?”

The man in the tactical jacket was startled and quickly reported through the comms, “Return to HQ immediately! Their goal isn’t to hold the scoring points—they’re executing a decapitation plan!”

“Sorry, it’s too late.” The voice in the comms was unfamiliar. The man sighed and patted Ji Ning’s shoulder. “A fine plan. Who’d have thought the defending team would abandon their advantage and go all-in? Well played.”

“Let’s congratulate ‘Seekers of the Forgotten’ for defeating ‘Sword of Hegni’ in this tactical exercise!” Professor Elvis—wearing camouflage, a former instructor at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst—announced the battle’s outcome with a broad smile, casting an appreciative glance at the commander, Catherine. Surprise is an essential trait for an excellent commander.

The Academy never encouraged sacrifice, but sacrifice was unavoidable.

At Ambrose Restaurant, Ji Ning looked at his four companions, cheeks puffed in protest. “Why was I the bait?”

Catherine, flipping through the menu, replied, “Because you’re especially confusing. No one would expect us to give up an assault specialist like you and go straight for a decapitation plan.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.” Ji Ning shrugged and eagerly took the menu, scanning the dishes whose names alone hinted at their exorbitant price. “None of you got hurt, right?”

The three girls shook their heads. “Qin Mo handled the two enemy guards left at HQ all by herself,” said Aphra, her eyes sparkling as she glanced at Qin Mo.

Zhao Tianxing said little. As their official advisor, he couldn’t intervene in such intra-grade matches—his role was to offer guidance and support when the group undertook real missions. This tradition of pairing upperclassmen with juniors was deeply rooted in the Academy.

The Academy favored such arrangements—whether mandatory senior guidance for freshmen or these group advisors. The purpose was simple: only by witnessing upperclassmen’s methods firsthand could these young deer truly grow strong. Skills outside the classroom were passed down this way, and bonds forged in battle and life made the students even stronger. Often, these partnerships endured, and in the shadowy world beyond graduation, who didn’t need reliable comrades?

Zhao Tianxing took the menu from Ji Ning. Spending three months together had given them shared hobbies—like eating. Every dish at Ambrose lived up to its steep price. Even the normally aloof Zhao Tianxing sometimes marvelled at the power of money.

“I have a question. What if the other side guessed we’d go for a decapitation attack and left more guards at HQ?” Ji Ning asked between bites.

“Then we admit defeat,” Qin Mo replied, slicing her steak.

“That’s it? No backup plan?” Ji Ning pressed.

Aphra shot him a glance. “When you’re hanging by a thread, you can only gamble on your one chance. If you win, you win; if you lose, you lose. There’s no perfect strategy. If you really achieved perfection, the best moment would have passed, and you’d realize there's no such thing as a flawless plan—only the ability to seize the moment and the resolve to fight to the end.”

“By the way, if this had been a real mission, how were you planning to rescue me? Flank from Zone A or sneak through Zone D?”

Aphra snorted. “Neither.”

“So heartless? I’ve made such a big contribution!” Ji Ning looked indignantly at his teammates.

Aphra snorted again. “With Qin Mo here, how would she let you be the bait?”

Qin Mo put down her knife and fork, a rosy blush unable to conceal her tender charm.

Zhao Tianxing continued to watch the bantering juniors with his usual calm, but his expression softened. He knew Qin Mo had always liked Ji Ning. Sadly, those involved are blind, while the bystanders see clearly—Ji Ning was still too young to understand how to face such innocent feelings.

From a bystander’s perspective, the two were more like an elder sister caring for her younger brother than lovers.

Catherine continued battling the Burgundy-baked escargot. She could sense Qin Mo’s strange feelings for Ji Ning, but didn’t dislike it—just a faint melancholy, like seeing a friend settle down. The classic hero-rescues-beauty romance wouldn’t work on the Ice Flower of Moscow.

As Aphra finished her last bite of dessert, Catherine took out her laptop from her bag. “Tonight isn’t just about celebrating our tactical victory. This morning I received a list of elective credit tasks from the Academy’s Academic Affairs Office.”

“Last year, the SCP Foundation and GOC noticed the stirrings of the Flesh Cult. According to the prophecy, the Grand Thaumaturge Yaan would ascend this year, so supernatural organizations worldwide have issued missions related to the Flesh Cult. The Academy is no exception—we signed an agreement with the SCP Foundation. Until December 31st at 23:59:59 this year, all students enjoy Level 2 Foundation clearance. In return, we must complete their issued tasks as our midterm exam, with completion rate counting for fifty percent of the final grade.” Catherine handed out small cards to everyone.

Ji Ning scratched his head. “The Flesh Cult again? Last semester I nearly lost my life.”

Catherine stood and faced Ji Ning. “Last semester’s mishap was mainly my fault. As commander, I planned an operation with only a vague understanding of the target. Failure was inevitable. I’m sorry.”

She bowed deeply. Just as Ji Ning pondered how to comfort her, Catherine turned her laptop around and set up a small device in front of the screen. A massive holographic projection illuminated the private room’s wall.

“This time, though, I used Foundation clearance to learn much more about the Flesh Cult.” Catherine’s gaze fell on Ji Ning. He understood her meaning—she couldn’t tolerate mistakes, and the best way to make up for one was to try again.

Zhao Tianxing nodded. “You have to complete the mission if you want that fifty percent for the final. I don’t want any of you failing.”

Aphra remained nonchalant. She hadn’t learned anything for frontline combat—whether crushing ant nests or slaughtering gods, it made little difference to her.

Qin Mo didn’t respond immediately. She spoke slowly: “Ji Ning, Catherine, you’ve both done missions involving the Flesh Cult before?”

Aphra added, “Me too. There were originally four of us, but one unlucky soul has already been cremated.”

Catherine’s voice was low, unable to hide her grief. “His name was Carl Sival. He died to a SK-BIO Type A, what the SCP Foundation calls a Behemoth creature’s claw.”

Ji Ning couldn’t bear to watch Catherine blame herself. He decided to share part of the truth: “That was a mission that shouldn’t have been carried out. You know Principal Birmingham, right? We were supposed to do remote reconnaissance, but that old bastard sent us to gather physical intel. It wasn’t a task for first-year students.”

Catherine clenched her fists. “Please trust me, I’ll never let anyone die because of my stupidity again.”

Qin Mo said nothing more, turning to the projection. “No more guilt. We’ll avenge Carl.”

Catherine nodded and began to explain the information she’d gathered.

“The Flesh Cult (from the Greek σάρξ, meaning ‘flesh’) is a religious/philosophical system encompassing various traditions, beliefs, and spiritual practices, mainly derived from the teachings of its deified founder, the Grand Thaumaturge Yaan. Its adherents practice ritual cannibalism, human sacrifice, bodily enhancement, thaumaturgy, and dimensional manipulation. The organization is highly secretive, and the public appears unaware of its existence—the only exception being the Church of the Broken God, which references them in its apocalyptic doctrine. Biomanipulation has caused some cultists to become anomalous, surpassing human physical limits. Disease is revered; their altars have been found adorned with swollen lymph nodes and tumors as offerings. The Cult considers propagation as devotion—a means to ‘eliminate the weak’ and purify the masses, thus actively pursuing expansion. At its core, the Flesh Cult is blasphemy against life, worship of aberration, and all rational beings are naturally opposed to them.”

Qin Mo raised her hand and, when Catherine paused, asked, “What is the Church of the Broken God?”

Zhao Tianxing replied, “The Church of the Broken God is an anomalous religious organization that worships machinery and regards life or flesh as inherently evil, or ‘broken.’ Though its origins are unknown, artifacts linked to the Broken God have been unearthed, dating back to classical Greece. The Church’s doctrine claims their deity existed before any life on Earth. Their central theory is that their god was destroyed, scattered, and ceased activity. Followers seek to recover the god’s body parts using technology—often anomalous—to provide a usable physical form for their deity, resulting in several semi-artificial, semi-organic holy relics.”

“So what’s the relationship between the Church of the Broken God and the Flesh Cult? One worships the power of flesh, the other sees flesh as weak and pursues mechanical ascension. Apart from being enemies, could there be any other connection?”