A Mermaid’s Guide to Survival in the Apocalypse – CH7

Chapter 7: Mermaid Instinct

It felt just like a dream.

Xia Yu felt as though he were witnessing a true miracle from the deepest part of the sea.

Puffs of dust still drifted down from the cracked ceiling, reminding him that danger was never far away. Yet Xia Yu sat frozen on the floor, his wide eyes fixed on the changes taking place within the mermaid egg.

He gave his own forearm a hard pinch to make sure he was not dreaming. Was he so exhausted and scared that his mind was playing tricks on him?

The memory of the injection flashed through his thoughts. The nutrient syringe had a much thicker needle than the delicate tools used in the research institute, and the egg’s outer skin was tough. He had felt strong resistance as he pushed the tip inward.

Even after the needle pierced all the way through, Mo An had not reacted. He had simply drifted in the cool fluid, fast asleep, instinctively shifting away from the prick without opening his eyes.

Yet now, those eyes were wide open.

Through the translucent membrane, Xia Yu could not tell if Mo An could see his face clearly. Nor could Xia Yu see Mo An in complete detail. All he could make out were the soft blue fins beside the boy’s ears and the delicate web of blue veins running through them.

Then, without warning, the face inside pressed closer to the membrane.

Xia Yu, already on edge, jumped in terror.

“Ah!”

He tumbled backward, falling flat against the cold floor.

Knowing so little about aberrant species—and even less about merfolk—the sudden movement terrified him. For one wild second, he thought the creature was about to break out of the shell and devour him whole.

The tears he had fought so hard to dry spilled down his cheeks once more. He cried so easily, and he hated himself for it. He wiped them away with the back of his dirty hand.

Is he crying? Why is the little jellyfish crying?

Inside the egg, Mo An’s brow twitched.

His vision was still terribly blurry. The protective tear film over his eyes had not finished forming, so even the dimmest light felt painfully sharp.

Still, that did not stop him from recognizing Xia Yu. He had listened to that small voice for an endless time.

I’m a little jellyfish,

From the deep sea I came,

Bloop-bloop, bloop-bloop…

Whenever Mo An felt restless and lonely, aching to return to the deep abyss, that gentle song had always calmed him.

Floating inside the institute’s massive observation tank, Mo An had learned the name the humans gave him. The artificial seawater kept him afloat, but it was never as quiet or comforting as the true ocean.

Everything in that lab had been too bright—far too bright.

Mo An had drifted in and out of fitful sleep, never finding real peace. He missed his family pod. He missed the quiet of the ocean floor, and the heavy embrace of real seawater.

Then, all of it had been torn away, leaving him trapped behind a wall of glass.

Yet every time the little jellyfish sang, Mo An’s agitation would melt away. It felt almost like listening to the ocean tides.

Xia Yu remained on the ground until the truth finally sank in: Mo An was really awake.

Crawling forward on his knees, Xia Yu carefully set both hands over the scratches on the shell.

“Mo An… Mo An, you… you’re really awake…”

Mo An still could not see clearly. The yellow maintenance light was simply too bright. But he could clearly feel two small hands resting against the surface of his egg.

They felt cold and were trembling softly.

Mo An’s tail and umbilical cord were still rooted into the inner lining of the shell, letting him sense outside pressure, and even pain. Yet as those small hands smoothed over the scratches, his restlessness dissolved.

It felt as comforting as a warm ocean current brushing over his skin.

How peculiar.

Xia Yu had no idea what the mermaid was feeling. He only knew that Mo An had finally opened his eyes, yet he had no way to keep him safe or healthy.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Xia Yu whispered, his voice cracking. “I don’t think… I don’t think I can raise you properly after all.”

What is the little jellyfish saying?

Mo An could not move his limbs yet. All he could manage was a slow blink. His ear-fins could not even spread open properly. Through the fluid, Xia Yu’s voice reached him in muffled fragments.

“I’m so useless. I only managed to bring back one nutrient shot.”

Xia Yu’s heart was torn between relief and dread. He was overjoyed that Mo An was alive and moving, but terrified that the creature would starve to death before his eyes. There was no way he could find enough nutrient vials on the dangerous streets outside.

This ruined world was threatening both of them.

A sudden chill swept over Xia Yu, and his whole body began to shiver.

“No. No, I can’t die yet.”

Professor Wang’s parting words rang in his mind.

Using the last of his energy, Xia Yu ripped open a small package of bread. The roll was dry and bland, like chewing on paper, but he could not afford to be picky. Staying alive was all that mattered.

After a few bites, the hollow ache in his stomach began to fade, and the bread actually tasted wonderful.

“See? I won’t die now,” he mumbled around a mouthful, trying to reassure Mo An. “Now that I’m full, I’m going to be fine.”

He was only a defenseless child himself, yet his first thought was still to protect another small life.

With his belly full, his spirits lifted a bit, and his determination to survive flared once more.

He glanced around the ruined room. Mi Dou was still out cold, and the tunnels seemed peaceful for now. If the three of them could just hide out here forever, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.

Before long, however, the weariness caught up with him. Cold and exhaustion dragged him down. He felt so heavy and tired, wanting nothing more than a long, deep sleep. Whatever came tomorrow could wait.

Curling up on the damp floor beside the egg, Xia Yu leaned his back against Mo An—the only solid support he had left in the world.

He shut his stinging eyes.

So cold…

As drowsiness took over, Xia Yu lost all feeling in his toes. His teeth chattered softly. Even though the researchers had cut pieces from him for experiments, his daily living quarters had always been warm and comfortable. He had slept in a temperature-controlled pod where Nuwa dimmed the lights, played the soothing sounds of ocean waves, and adjusted the air so he never felt a chill.

Now, all of that was gone.

He missed Wang Qin terribly. He missed Nuwa, too.

Where were they? Were they still alive?

Drifting into a hazy sleep, Xia Yu’s final thought was wishing for a blanket—just a simple blanket to pull over his shoulders so he wouldn’t freeze.

Rumble…

Rumble…

High above, the mechanical purge raged on. Another tower collapsed, showering the streets in broken neon glass, and the tremors rattled through the sewer walls.

Inside the quiet room, under the dim yellow lamp, a soft blue radiance pulsed steadily from the egg.

It was as if the large shell were breathing.

Mo An had closed his eyes again. The fluid inside the egg glowed with a faint luminescence, and the surface of the shell began to warm. Steadily, it radiated a gentle heat into the damp room, wrapping the little jellyfish in a circle of warmth.

Opening his eyes this early took a heavy toll on Mo An. Ever since being stolen from his nest, he had slept lightly, constantly disturbed by the noise from above.

Whenever he found enough strength to peek out, Mo An would look straight at Xia Yu, who lay curled up tight against his shell.

He looked forward to the day he would hatch. When that day came, he would finally see the true color of the little jellyfish’s eyes.

The thought made Mo An blow several tiny bubbles into the fluid, his tail swaying ever so slightly.

Yet hatching was still years away. He had to wait until his tail fins and umbilical cords separated naturally from the shell wall. To Mo An, that day felt impossibly far off.

Xia Yu slept as though he were lost in an endless night.

When he woke, his limbs felt completely drained.

In his dreams, the hunter machines had chased him again, their red eyes pinning him down from every side. He had run with all his might, carrying Mo An while trying to outrun the self-destruct timer. Every time he stumbled, he saw Wang Qin lying in a pool of blood.

“You must save the world.”

“You must raise Mo An.”

“You must go see the ocean.”

Her blood-soaked hand reached out to him, and then the whole world broke apart. Xia Yu had run and run until he suddenly snapped awake.

For a moment, he thought the nightmare was over—that the world had returned to normal, and that Nuwa was about to open his sleeping pod.

Instead, he found Mi Dou smiling down at him.

“You’re awake!” Mi Dou sighed in relief. “I thought you caught a bad sickness!”

“Ah!” Xia Yu gasped, scrambling behind the egg in alarm.

“Thank you for saving me,” Mi Dou said, wiggling his furry bear ears. His bandaged shoulder had stopped bleeding. “Your medicine really worked! Besides, mutants like us heal quickly anyway. My mom says people always put our kind to work in the mines—”

“The mines?” Xia Yu blinked, slowly piecing together his memories: escaping the institute, finding the sewer, and meeting Mi Dou.

As reality settled back in, he spread his arms wide to shield the egg. He looked back over his shoulder; Mo An seemed to be asleep again, his eyes shut tight.

“Yeah, we’re strong and have lots of energy,” Mi Dou explained proudly. “All bear-type mutants work the deep mines. Didn’t you know that? What kind of work did you do before?”

“Me? I… I don’t know,” Xia Yu murmured, shaking his head.

The scientists had never found a practical use for jellyfish hybrids, so his line was never put into mass production. No one had ever given him a job.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Mi Dou replied easily. “I really owe you my life. From now on, we’re best friends. If I ever find my mom again, I’ll ask her to find you a good job too!”

He spoke with complete earnestness. Then he pulled his arms around himself and shivered. “It’s freezing in here. The cold actually woke me up.”

“Cold?” Xia Yu stared at him in surprise.

He did not feel cold at all. If the room were truly that chilly, his hands and feet should have been numb. Yet his fingers and toes moved smoothly, completely warm. Could the room somehow be freezing Mi Dou while leaving him untouched?

[Good morning. The current time is 9:03 a.m. Are you rested?]

“Who’s talking?!” Mi Dou jumped in surprise.

“It’s the AI inside my wristband,” Xia Yu explained, already familiar with the voice.

Jingwei corrected him immediately: [To be precise, I am the artificial intelligence itself. The wristband is merely my communication interface.]

Mi Dou nodded, trying to understand. “Hello, artificial intelligence.”

[Greetings,] Jingwei responded. [However, there is no time for pleasantries. You must evacuate this location immediately.]

“What? Evacuate?” Xia Yu’s heart skipped a beat, his quiet hopes crumbling. He had dreamed of the three of them staying hidden here forever, out of sight. “Is this place not safe either?”

[Correct. Aerial units are breaching the security hatch and will sweep the sewer lines shortly. Any living organism detected will be terminated.]

Jingwei added, [The purge on the surface continues. The machines have launched an open rebellion, and the first wave of human defense forces has already broken and retreated.]

“Retreated?” Xia Yu frowned. “Humans built the machines. How could humans lose to them?”

[Human society grew dependent on artificial intelligence for too long,] Jingwei stated coldly. [Once computational intelligence surpassed human cognitive limits, casting humanity aside was an inevitable outcome. These matters are beyond your current comprehension, however. You do not need to understand them now. What matters is that you follow the corridor straight to the end. You will find an access door there.]

“What if… what if we just don’t go?” Xia Yu asked, desperate to stay. “What if the flying machines don’t notice this room? All three of us are small. If we stay quiet, maybe they won’t find us.”

[Negative. You will be located.] Jingwei’s answer was absolute. [Proceed along the corridor and unlock the bulkhead into Power Plant Number Three. Only then will you have temporary safety. Furthermore, you are unaware of the situation outside. There are entities far more lethal than patrol drones and hunter bots active in this sector.]

“What kind of entities?” Xia Yu asked, a chill running down his back.

Mi Dou tensed up beside him. Oddly enough, the air in the small room suddenly felt a bit warmer.

[Parasite Hosts have emerged,] Jingwei replied. [I will provide technical details later. For now, you must run. You must move immediately.]

Before Xia Yu could even ask what a Parasite Host was, an unsettling noise drifted down the corridor.

Squelch.

Squelch.

Then came a wet, heavy dragging sound. It sounded like moving water mixed with the sticky pull of thick glue against stone.

Mi Dou panicked, turning to Xia Yu with wide eyes. “What… what do we do? Tell me what to do!”

Xia Yu did not hesitate. “Run! Grab Mo An, we have to go!”

“Got it!”

In that split second, the two boys formed a tight pact to survive.

Xia Yu was still worrying about how he was going to carry the heavy egg, but Mi Dou simply bent down and hoisted the bundle onto his back with ease. To the bear-type mutant, the weight seemed almost like nothing.

Xia Yu tapped his own forehead. He had completely forgotten—Mi Dou was an incredibly strong little bear.

Squelch.

Squelch.

Slosh… slosh…

The wet, sickening sound was right outside.

Terrified, Xia Yu grabbed Mi Dou’s hand and pulled him out of the maintenance room. Together, they sprinted down the dark passage as fast as their legs would carry them.

Inside the egg, Mo An snapped his eyes open once more.

Instinctively, he pulled back his lips, showing rows of razor-sharp, triangular teeth.

Danger.

The scales along Mo An’s tail flared outward layer by layer—the natural defense of a mermaid pup facing an apex predator in the deep ocean.

Even though he had not hatched, instinct drove him to spread his pelvic fins wide, trying to make himself look as large and intimidating as possible.

Sadly, he had only developed a single pair of small pelvic fins. His dorsal tail fin had not even begun to grow.

A Mermaid’s Guide to Survival in the Apocalypse