Roy sat in the room for over ten minutes, and still, no one came for him.
People kept passing by the door, all looking rushed, as if they'd completely forgotten about him.
It wasn't that the base had forgotten Roy—it was just that hardly anyone here spoke English.
Russians, naturally, spoke Russian. Only the researchers, who needed to read international journals, knew English. But right now, they were too busy to deal with him, and most of the administrative staff didn't speak a lick of English. So, Roy was left sitting in the office, ignored.
He couldn't even find someone to ask if the transport helicopter had been refueled, since no one around understood him.
Talk about frustrating.
Two hours later, Anya finally walked in, looking exhausted, and apologized.
"Sorry, Mr. Blake. I got caught up with work and couldn't notify you in time. The transport helicopter already left."
Roy: ???
"Uh, you sure it was just about not having time to notify me?"
Roy could swear he saw a hint of smugness on Anya's face. This woman had definitely left him stranded at the base on purpose.
He was speechless.
"The helicopter will be back tomorrow, Mr. Blake. Why don't you stay at the base tonight?"
"Where am I supposed to sleep?"
Surely not in this bare office with its hard chairs?
Bookmark our 101 Reading Network.
Anya looked at Roy, her expression turning suggestive.
"How about my place? My dorm's pretty spacious!"
There it was—her true intentions revealed!
Handsome guys need to watch out when they're out and about, or they'll run into scary older sisters like this!
Roy saw through her. Anya was clearly a fan, scheming to get some "up-close-and-personal" time with her idol.
But what could he do about it?
Roy was just a poor, helpless American college student. How could he resist a Russian "big sister"?
By now, the sun was starting to set, and Anya invited Roy to dinner.
Somehow, she'd convinced the base commander to let her bring Roy to her dorm.
Roy started to wonder if this Russian base was a total mess.
Then again, this was just a research station in Antarctica—not even a proper military base. Antarctica was unclaimed territory, open to anyone, even stateless people.
This was just a Russian outpost, albeit one guarded by soldiers.
It probably wasn't that important, or else they wouldn't have some rich kid here for clout.
Around 8 p.m., they sat down for dinner in Anya's dorm.
She hadn't lied—her dorm was spacious. A bedroom, living room, and bathroom. For Antarctica, that was practically luxurious.
Anya must have some serious clout back in Russia, maybe as a renowned scientist.
This got Roy thinking. Besides microbiology, did she have any expertise in chemistry?
Dinner was vanilla lamb chops, borscht, and some dark rye bread—classic Russian high-calorie fare to keep you warm in the cold.
The drink? Vodka, of course.
Roy had never seen anyone pair vodka with dinner. Only Russians, probably.
(The actress playing Anya is actually Yugoslavian.)
Russians, men and women alike, were known for their drinking prowess. Roy strongly suspected Anya was trying to get him drunk.
But when it comes to drinking games, if someone's willing to let you pour, they're usually open to other things too.
Of course, back home, you'd better watch out—getting someone drunk could land you in jail for assault, since intoxication counts as incapacitation in court.
After a few rounds, Anya's cheeks were flushed—whether from the vodka or Roy was anyone's guess.
Roy was enjoying himself. The food was average and the portions small, but the company was… scenic.
He learned Anya's father was a boxer, not super famous, just a few local awards. Growing up, Anya was obsessed with boxing and once dreamed of becoming a pro.
Sadly, her physique wasn't cut out for it, no matter how hard she trained. So she turned to academics, earning PhDs in microbiology and organic chemistry by 28.
Though she never became a boxer, her love for the sport never faded. She'd watch matches whenever she could.
During the Sydney Olympics heavyweight boxing event, she'd been in the crowd, witnessing Roy's championship win. Hence, her fangirl-level admiration.
Roy glanced at her figure. No way she could've been a boxer.
Maybe it was a Russian thing, but despite her high-calorie diet, Anya's limbs and waist were slender. All the nutrients seemed to have gone to her… ample chest.
When she laughed, it was like an earthquake.
(Check out the movie—there's a scene where the heroine runs, and it's practically earth-shaking.)
They polished off a bottle of vodka, splitting it evenly.
Anya's eyes were glassy, her speech sluggish.
"Roy, I thought Americans couldn't hold their liquor!"
She'd definitely planned to get him drunk and have her way with him, but Roy's tolerance was beyond her expectations.
Half a bottle in, Roy was unfazed, while Anya was struggling.
"Anya, trying to get me drunk? You could've just asked—I'd have played along."
Anya burst out laughing, triggering another seismic event.
"Roy, you're hilarious! Care to dance?"
"Of course."
Roy extended a hand, pulling her up.
He'd crammed dance lessons for a school ball, and with his physical prowess and memory, he picked things up fast.
He was practically a dance floor pro now.
Anya, though, was tipsy, her moves clumsy, like early humans taming their limbs.
But dancing wasn't her goal—she was out to take advantage of Roy. Mid-dance, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Her true colors revealed again?
"Anya, this makes dancing a bit tough."
Anya leaned in, whispering in his ear. At 1.77 meters tall, she had to tiptoe without heels, thanks to her work environment.
"Roy, I want to know just how strong a world champion is."
Roy, ever respectful of a lady's wishes, scooped her up.
"You'll find out soon enough."
They kissed, spinning toward the bedroom, shedding armor along the way.
In the main arena, Roy and Anya were in their natural state.
When Anya saw Roy's physique, her drunken haze vanished, replaced by shock.
"How is it so…"
"Scared, Anya?"
Anya swallowed hard, forcing a calm expression.
"No way! It's just… unscientific! Can a human really be that big? It's not some disease, is it?"
Some conditions could cause abnormal growth, often uncontrollable and life-threatening if untreated.
Roy shrugged.
"Anya, I'm perfectly healthy. Want to check for yourself?"
She grinned.
"I minored in biology. I can give you a thorough exam."
So, the double-PhD scientist began a professional inspection of Roy's body.
Without tools, she relied on her hands for measurements, arriving at a jaw-dropping figure.
"My God, that's the number?!"
Anya muttered, a bit uneasy.
"Maybe you could use your language module to check?"
She gave him a playful glare, catching his meaning but not refusing.
After some effort, Anya completed the exam, leaving only the CT scan.
A CT scan—computed tomography—uses X-rays to create layered images of the body.
No professional equipment was available, so Anya used herself as a "human CT scanner."
Through relentless scanning and layer-by-layer checks, she confirmed Roy was perfectly healthy—almost too healthy.
Anya wasn't inexperienced. She'd had a few boyfriends, though none lasted long. Still, Roy's prowess blew her mind. She started wondering if he was from Krypton.
Soon, Anya lost the ability to think, her soul seemingly leaving her body as she glimpsed the "gate of truth."
[Ding! Obtained Anya Kozlov's Conquest Chest! Open it?]
Anya collapsed so quickly, Roy felt a bit helpless.
The female doctor's stamina was lacking, probably from carrying such a heavy load and not exercising enough.
He stopped, worried she might get hurt if he kept going.
In the middle of the night, Anya recovered and felt guilty for not satisfying her idol.
So, she used her "language module" and "frontal armor" to help Roy relieve some pressure.
The fangirl vibe was something else. Anya's adoring gaze left Roy mentally fulfilled.
But man, did it wear her out!
The next morning, just after dawn, someone knocked.
Anya, exhausted, didn't stir. Roy got dressed and answered the door.
It was Grigoryev, the base commander, looking anxious, like something big had happened.
He wasn't surprised to see Roy—Anya must've told him.
"Mr. Grigoryev, what's going on?"
"Where's Anya? I need her for something urgent!"
"I'll get her."
It took a while for Anya to get dressed and stumble out, yawning.
After a heated Russian exchange with Grigoryev, Anya looked just as anxious.
"Sorry, Roy, there's an emergency. I have to go!"
She gave Roy a quick kiss.
Right then, gunshots rang out, startling the two Russians.
They rushed out to the source.
Two bodies, wrapped in gray fungal threads, lay in front of an elevator, surrounded by soldiers who'd fired the shots.
The threads froze rapidly, crumbling to dust under everyone's gaze, leaving behind mutated corpses.
Another alien invasion movie plot?
Suddenly, Roy caught a whiff of sulfur—a scent unique to demons.
Elizabeth and Eluresha had it faintly, but these corpses reeked of it, not like low-tier demons.
What were the Russians up to? Messing with demons now?
Roy grabbed the dazed Anya.
"Anya, what the hell are you guys doing here?"
She looked helpless.
"It's classified military stuff. I can't say!"
"Listen, Anya, this isn't something science can handle. I just smelled demon essence on those bodies!"
Roy's voice was loud, and those nearby who understood English stared at him in shock.
Russia, being Orthodox Christian, had plenty of cross-wearing believers. Many, even scientists, believed in God and demons.
In the West, science and theology often blurred.
"You're sure?" Grigoryev's eyes locked onto Roy, like he knew something.
"Positive," Roy said firmly.
But then, someone piped up to contradict him.
It was Mikhail, the guy Roy had slapped yesterday. After brooding all night, he was furious, especially seeing Roy and Anya leave her dorm together. His eyebrows practically turned green with jealousy as he pointed at Roy, ranting to Grigoryev in Russian.
Roy looked at Anya, puzzled.
"What's he saying?"
Anya hesitated, then explained…