Born to Be Rebellious [Quick Transmigration]

72

    Rib fractures, excessive blood loss, concussions, visceral injuries…

    One after another, just picking one of these was enough to have a healthy alpha is incredible pain.

    Such terrifying wounds appeared on a slender Omega who should have been protected and pampered. It was simply terrible.

    The cabin gradually became quiet.

    Everyone seemed to be astounded.

    And the ones feeling it the deepest were undoubtedly Joseph and Avery.

    They have witnessed with their own eyes how this severely injured omega fought back and even counter killed the enraged bug—the most advanced microphone equipment was installed in the wormhole, so that the sound of the victim being torn apart and screams of pain and despair would be faithfully delivered to the audience’s ears to increase the effect of the show.

    And in the process, whether it was a broken rib, a torn wound or damaged internal organs…

    —he didn’t say a word.

    It was… too shocking*.

*funfact, the characters meaning shocking here can also mean earth shaking, or shocking as in shock after explosion. Perhaps a pun.

    Joseph and Avery looked at each other and found the same emotion in each other’s eyes.

    Asking themselves, would they be able to do the same thing if they were in the position of that omega? In such a situation of being isolated and helpless, not only did he try to kill a Zerg that went mad from pheromones, but even figured out the structure and weakness of the ship in such a short time, and finally blew up the ship.

    This required not only steel willpower, but also strong strategic ability***, as well as terrifying sanity and calmness that was almost inhuman.

    Who the hell was this omega?

    Haines listened with a gloomy expression, his eyes drooping slightly under his cold and sharp brows, his mood was unclear.

    His eyes fell on the boy’s naturally curled up fingers due to the coma.

    The bloodstains on it had already dried up, and the irregular dark red stains appeared even more startling on the pale skin.

    Haines raised his hand and pressed it on the other’s fingertips, rubbing it lightly.

    The youth’s fingers were slim and slender, with well-proportioned knuckles. The soft fingertips and sides of the fingers had no calluses, and the knuckles and palms were light pink, like flawless nephrite.

    This was a hand that could only be raised with pampering.

    One that has never held anything heavier than a pen, let alone fighting on the battlefield.

    At this moment, the doctor’s voice paused, as if he had found something, he frowned in confusion, and then slowly and carefully put his hand on the boy’s shoulder blade, turning him over gently.

    The sound of sucking in air rang out one after another in the cabin.

    Even Haines’s pupils shrank.

    The young man’s dark and delicate short hair contrasted with the white and slender neck, his complexion was snow-white, not stained with dust, just like the first snowflake falling in early winter, the protrusions of his spine were slightly raised, and he was small and delicate like a work of art—