People in Yu-Gi-Oh! The hyper-converged audience is also integrated

Chapter 310 At an age when you should be supported, you have to support others.
A baby's cry rang in my ears, and I slowly opened my eyes from the darkness, my brain throbbing with pain.

A sudden jolt ran down the left side of my neck, and the intense pain made my vision go black. The baby's cries suddenly became sharp and piercing, and I widened my eyes in shock.

The alley was dirty and damp, filled with the sour stench of rotting garbage and the smell of rust.
"Your mother doesn't want you anymore!" another tall, thin man sneered harshly.

I glanced at my small hands, covered in dirt and scratches; my body was pitifully thin.
I am looking up at them.

A survival instinct urged me to run away, but my body froze on the spot, unresponsive, only protecting my head. Just then, a furious rage, completely unlike that of my young body, erupted from the depths of my consciousness like a volcano.

"what--!!!"

I roared, my voice hoarse and unlike a human's, more like the dying howl of a young beast. My body shot out like a cannonball, lunging at the tall, thin man who had uttered the most vicious words.

He was startled and instinctively tried to block with the iron bar.

too slow.

I crashed headfirst into his arms and bit his shoulder hard.

"Pfft-"

The sound of teeth piercing through clothing and sinking into flesh was clearly audible. A warm, sweet-smelling liquid instantly filled my mouth.

"Ah—!" The tall, thin man let out a shrill scream as he frantically thrashed his body, trying to tear me off.

The other two realized what was happening and were filled with shock and anger.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Each blow sent my body trembling violently, my bones felt like they were about to fall apart, and the excruciating pain nearly made me faint.

I tried to loosen my grip several times, but my body wouldn't listen to me.

Instead, I used all my strength to tear at him like a mad dog, grabbing his hair and ears, and grinding my teeth wildly on his bloodied and mangled shoulder.

I could feel the contours of his shoulder blades and taste the salty despair in his blood.

"Damn! He's insane!"

"Get him down here! Kill him!"

Their shouts turned from fierce to terrified. The boy I had bitten no longer had the ferocity of an abuser on his face, but the fear of a dying prey.

I bit down hard on the man's shoulder, growling like a lion guarding its prey.

They stopped, their hands gripping the iron bars trembling slightly.

The first rule of survival in the satellite area (deserted area): "One for one, you won't lose out if you die."

When you're being ganged up on, if you fight with the mindset of trading one for one, you might survive.

"what--!!!"

I let out another howl, sharper and more terrifying than the one I had bitten, which startled the crows perched on the surrounding ruins into taking flight.

The howl was very hoarse, a mixture of two voices.

One of them is me.

One is on the left side of my neck, the newborn baby.

"Monster, monster..." the two men who were beating me said, trembling, as they threw down the iron bars in their hands and scrambled away.

The tall, thin man who had been bitten was so terrified he wet himself, his whole body twitching slightly, and a foul stench filled the alley: "No, don't kill me..."

I looked in the direction the two people were running. Without thinking, my body's memory told me that it was my 'home,' and they were going to call my 'family.'

A chill, not belonging to me, emanating from this body, shot up my spine to the top of my head.

Seeing this, the tall, thin man lying on the ground clutched his bloodied shoulder, a twisted glee appearing on his pale face. He laughed wildly, "Hahaha, your dad's coming! You dare bite me? He'll beat you to death! You're dead!"

I felt a sense of absurdity.

The body's instincts are fear, stiffness, and anticipation of the impending beating.

But my consciousness is not.

I raised my fist and smashed it into his face without warning.

"boom!"

"Ouch, that hurts!" the tall, thin man howled, blood gushing from his nose, yet he continued to yell, "You're dead when your dad gets here!"

I ignored him and quickly searched his body.

He finally panicked, clutching the pocket on his backside tightly: "No—"

I didn't know where he hid it at first, but when he covered it, I realized the location. I don't know where I got the strength, but I pried open his fingers and forced the things out of his pocket.

They were two stones that shimmered with a faint green light.

Shellstone, a negative cubic ore, is the currency traded in the wasteland. It has a large gambling element; sometimes a shellstone contains only a few micrograms of negative cubic crystals, while others are worth hundreds of micrograms.

One microgram of negative square crystal is roughly equivalent to one gold point of purchasing power.

Shellstone is rare, easy to store, and linked to negative square crystals. Although its value is highly uncertain, it has a certain ability to retain value.

"Give it back to me..." The tall, thin man's shout turned into a plea as he struggled to snatch it back. "Give it back to me!"

I punched him in the mouth again with my other hand, and his mouth immediately filled with blood, with a few teeth mixed with blood and foam rolling to the edge of his mouth.

He finally fell silent.

The second survival rule of the satellite area (deserted area): "If you can solve something with a fight, don't bother talking."

I picked up the iron rod from the ground, weighed it in my hand, and found it to be quite heavy.

A commotion arose not far away, and a man's roar grew louder as he approached: "You little bastard! I'll break your legs today!"

That man was probably my 'father'.

His voice was like a switch, and my body began to tremble uncontrollably.

But at this moment, my will and the will of this body reached an unprecedented level of unity. Run! Get out of here!

I swung the iron bar and smashed it down on the tall, thin man's thigh one last time; the dull thud of bones breaking was clearly audible.

Amidst his distorted screams, I turned and ran out of the alley in the opposite direction from 'home', without looking back.

Behind them, the man's curses grew louder and louder, along with the desperate cries of the tall, thin man.

At the age of twelve, I took two pieces of seashells and a rusty iron rod and resolutely ran away from home.

I ran wildly, my chest burning like fire, until my legs were so weak I could barely lift them. I stopped, clutching my knees, and gasped for breath.

The surrounding jungle was deathly silent, with only the sound of my breathing.

"Wow--"

On the left side of the neck, the baby's cry rang out again, not loud, but clear and piercing.

I paused, slowly walked to a puddle of water by the roadside, and bent down.

A strange face was reflected in the water, its face covered in bruises, with blood still clinging to its mouth and teeth. Most striking of all was a fist-sized infant head growing out of the left side of its neck.

She slightly opened her eyes, her little face scrunched up, and she opened her mouth to cry.

Looking at my reflection in the water, I had a feeling that was hard to describe.

It was because of this that I was called a freak, that man treated me as a disgrace, and that I was forced to flee that so-called "home".

I didn't know how to express it, but my body moved first.

My right hand slowly rose, fingers spread, frozen in mid-air.

"It's all because of you..."

I muttered to myself, my voice suppressing a resentment that wasn't mine, a resentment that had been building up for years.

The next second, my hand slammed down, gripping the baby's neck and face tightly.

Its crying stopped abruptly.

I couldn't breathe for a moment.

A sharp pain exploded from my neck, quickly spreading to my entire brain. My vision blurred, and a suffocating feeling gripped my throat.

It hurts, it hurts too much!
This intense pain made me realize one thing clearly: she is a part of me, and pinching her is pinching myself.

You can't strangle yourself.

My survival instinct made me suddenly let go.

"Cough...cough cough!" I knelt on the ground, coughing violently, greedily inhaling the cold air.

"Wow—Aaaaaah—!!!"

The baby on my neck seemed to have suffered a great injustice, bursting into a wail several times sharper than before. The sound was so loud that it made my eardrums buzz. She not only cried, but also waved her arms and legs—if those two not-yet-fully-developed fleshy lumps could be considered arms and legs.

I caught my breath and looked at her; she was crying so hard that snot bubbles were coming out of her nose.

I gritted my teeth, my finger hovering in mid-air.

I wanted to use violence to stop her annoying crying, just like we fought earlier. I wanted to tear this demon that caused me to be discriminated against.

But I can't bring myself to do it.

It hurts, it really hurts.

Because I was afraid of the pain, I didn't dare to pinch her; because of my resentment, I was unwilling to pull back.

My hand remained frozen in mid-air.

Her crying stopped abruptly. She stared blankly at my finger, then slowly stretched her head, opened her toothless mouth, and took my fingertip into her mouth, sucking hard.

A warm, moist sensation came over me.

I slowly widened my eyes, momentarily panicked and at a loss for what to do. In the end, I chose to give up and let her use my finger as a pacifier.

Never mind, as long as you don't cry.

Just survive first.

The hard-won moment of peace didn't even last a minute.

"Pooh--"

The baby on my neck suddenly spat out my finger, its little face scrunched up in disgust.

Immediately afterwards, a new round of wailing began.

"Wow—ahhh—"

This time, the crying was completely different from before. It was no longer a sound of grievance and fright, but a sharp, urgent cry, carrying a kind of savage determination to achieve its goal.

The string in my mind snapped with a "pop".

"Ugh—" I clutched my head, letting out a scream even more devastating than hers, "You're so annoying!"

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

I growled at her, and she cried even louder, her toothless mouth agape as she wailed with all her might, her little face turning bright red, and clear saliva dripping down the corners of her mouth.

I finally understood; she was hungry.

Hungry? Who isn't hungry!
If crying would get you food, who wouldn't cry!
He's still a child, at an age where he should be supported by others, and he should take on the responsibility of supporting others.

"One day, I will definitely cut you up!" I said fiercely.

It was probably on that day.

I aspire to become a doctor.

(End of this chapter)