Chapter Fifteen: Departure

"Boss, it looks like there's a car coming in from outside!" In a high-rise building downtown, a group of soldiers in camouflage uniforms kept careful watch. At the sniper’s post on the left, a young soldier peered through the scope and raised the alarm.

"Coming in from outside?" A man in his thirties, wearing the insignia of a captain, furrowed his brow as he patrolled behind them, puzzled. "Just one vehicle?"

"Yes, only one," the soldier replied with certainty.

"How odd. With the situation as it is, everyone’s doing everything they can to flee the city, yet someone’s coming in? Besides the rescue teams, who else would be that foolish?"

This unit was among the vanguard sent by the military district to support the city the day after the disaster broke out. Their mission, besides reconnaissance, was to seize strategic locations. Given the current state of the city, the military leadership had decided to reclaim it incrementally, using bases as forward positions. The first step was to send in advance units to occupy buildings with advantageous terrain, strong security, and underground passage systems. These served as both outposts and evacuation routes to guide rescued civilians out to the suburbs.

Truth be told, the nature of these monsters meant the odds of survivors in the city were extremely low—perhaps one in ten thousand. The unit had been stationed here for two days, but hadn’t rescued a single civilian yet. Morale was low, for the soldiers were also worried about their own families.

Intelligence indicated that the virus had first infected the populations of the Federation and the Red Eagle Republic, the two largest nations. Within a day, their governments had been paralyzed. In the following days, the outbreak swept the globe. Only a handful of impoverished countries, spared due to lack of vaccine coverage, survived. Most governments had collapsed. The military, stationed on the outskirts, was less affected than the cities and quickly organized counterattacks after the initial chaos. Many soldiers were deeply concerned about their families, but seeing the devastation with their own eyes chilled their hearts.

Given these circumstances, the chances of their loved ones surviving were slim. Encountering survivors would be a source of hope, proof that their dangerous efforts were not in vain. But why would anyone be coming into the city now?

Anyone able to escape had already left—what reason could there be to enter? Had someone just returned from a trip?

"Send up a warning flare. Don’t let them enter the city," the captain ordered. He didn’t know the intentions of whoever was in the vehicle, but as rescuers, they had a duty to warn them.

"Yes, sir!" The soldier quickly retrieved a signal gun from his pack. The Federation's flares used special explosive material—bright red exclamation marks blazed in the sky, visible even in daylight. Yet the off-road vehicle seemed unfazed, continuing its course toward the city.

"Sir... they ignored us and are heading into the city. What should we do?"

"If they’re determined to get themselves killed, there’s nothing we can do," the captain replied, rolling his eyes with exasperation. "These days, you really do see all sorts."

Inside the vehicle, Guo Lang and Alice had also noticed the red warning signal. Alice looked on with curiosity and asked, "Daddy, are there people over there?"

"Yes, I believe so," Guo Lang replied, glancing at the symbol in the sky with a sigh. "Most likely a military rescue team."

"A rescue team?" Alice’s eyes brightened. "Do you think Mom might be with them? Should we go check?"

A hint of sorrow flickered in Guo Lang’s eyes, but he finally broke her illusion. "Unless it was one of the initial elite special rescue missions, no regular team would parachute into the city center. They’re using covert infiltration and outpost tactics. Your mother works in a famous downtown office tower—a place far too dangerous to reach. Most units would abandon it, focusing on clearing the outskirts first and then using heavy firepower to sweep dense areas later."

"Oh..." Alice bit her lip, her gaze toward the soldiers’ position turning cold. "So they’re bad people."

Guo Lang couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Children really did see things in black and white. These soldiers were, in truth, worthy of respect—they risked their lives to help people with whom they had little connection, all while their own families’ fates were uncertain. From any perspective, these men were great and noble.

But Guo Lang did not correct Alice’s perception. Not only because he himself was an outsider here, but also because of what might come later. Right now, the military was still heroic and admirable, but in time, who could say?

This virus devastated cities, but was less likely to destroy the military itself. The disciplined environment meant few were infected at first, and their training and firepower allowed them to quickly restore order. Destroying an entire civilization with only the virus was nearly impossible without the presence of third-tier mutated creatures. The necromancers rarely unleashed such monsters on a large scale, nor did they possess many. So why, in his previous life, had so many necromancer cultists succeeded? The problem lay with the people themselves.

With cities in ruins and governments collapsed, the military was left unchecked. Would their leaders still obey the commands of a handful of surviving politicians? In most cases, no. Once a commander put personal interests first, the entire unit changed. Corruption spread from the top down, from outside in. When the generals clung to power, when the environment devolved into survival of the fittest and morality collapsed, the soldiers too would become cold, selfish, even violent. When the climate grew so rotten, the apocalypse became irreversible.

What was more terrifying than gods or monsters was the human heart. Guo Lang had seen this countless times before. He paid careful attention to these soldiers, for they were the best possible recruits—better trained and more disciplined than refugees, and for now, still uncorrupted, still filled with a sense of justice. Winning them over would be a great advantage. For now, however, the priority was to rescue Alice’s mother—to either bring her back, or at least make Alice give up hope.

---

At the heart of the city’s tallest tower, three architects of the apocalypse sat atop the Imperial Building, overseeing their creation. Ian, the leader, swirled red wine as he admired his latest masterpiece.

In the center of the room stood a naked woman. Her features still faintly resembled Fiona, but she was changed—her skin smoother, her body more athletic, but her eyes glowed with a bloody red light, and crimson scales had sprouted all over her. If you looked closely, you’d see flesh wriggling beneath the armor—utterly grotesque.

"You truly belong in hell, Ian," said the young man who favored the shadows, a green light flickering in his eyes as he sneered. "You cast her into hell, then gave her hope, only to turn her into this monstrosity. Of all the people I’ve met, no one is more twisted than you."

"Monstrosity?" Ian feigned surprise, gesturing extravagantly. "No, no, Jones, what about her looks monstrous?" He approached Fiona, his hand caressing her cheek. She stiffened, the bloodlust in her gaze intensifying, yet when she tried to move, glowing runes on her body forced her still. All she could do was glare at Ian with venomous hatred.

"Look at her—what a beautiful expression, what a perfect form. I never break my promises. I told her she’d join us, that she’d rise above the natives of this world and look down from on high. Didn’t I fulfill that? As the host for the threadworm, she has a chance to become queen of this world. Have I not bestowed upon her the highest honor?"

"Twisted logic, as depraved as ever!" The burly man stood, stretching his limbs. "I wasn’t done playing with her, and now, for the sake of your mission, you’ve turned her into this. Where am I supposed to vent my frustration now?"

"Patience," Ian replied, his pale green eyes now brighter, faint patterns shimmering within. If Guo Lang were here, he would recognize that Ian had evolved, at least reaching the level of a professional class.

"According to the reconnaissance of her controlled zombies, there are still some promising survivors in these central buildings." Ian closed his eyes, green runes glowing beneath his feet, his body shrouded in a faint halo.

When he opened his eyes again, he grinned wickedly. "There are about thirty survivors nearby, all sharp and resourceful. For example, the woman on the top floor of the neighboring building—she sensed the danger early and cleverly avoided the initial crisis. She’s a promising candidate."

"Oh? A woman." The burly man stood up, interest piqued.

"What do you intend to turn her into this time?" Jones asked, intrigued.

"Not a monster—a perfect work of art," Ian insisted, clearing his throat. "Besides, her transformation is due to her own lack of talent. I never promised that every person who joined us would end up like us. That woman over there might have potential. You can’t accuse me before I’ve even done anything, can you?"

Jones only chuckled.

Note: The necromancers are infamous in other realms for their brutality and the treacherous nature of their recruitment methods. Never trust a necromancer lightly; you’ll never know whether they’re bringing you in as a follower, or turning you into an abomination.