Just before leaving, William Carter was still hugged around the neck and pleaded with, promising to deliver the new bullets within a month.

And William Carter drove his own jeep alone, quietly heading toward this small border town.

At dawn, when sunlight finally shone on this pitch-black land, William Carter drove into the old gas station on the west side of the small border town.

Taking advantage of the time while refueling, he gazed from afar at this small city he hadn’t returned to in three years, seeing streets and buildings that seemed even older than three years ago, as well as a few more people and drilling rigs than back then.

He couldn’t tell if he felt comforted or sentimental; suddenly, a sense of calm washed over him.

In the distance, quarry workers coming off the night shift were walking lazily toward the town in small groups.

Some still held buns and fried dough sticks in their hands, gnawing as they walked.

By the roadside, nuns from the Faceless God Church had already opened the doors and were sun-drying sweet potato slices on the concrete ground.

Farther away, patients draped in burlap sacks and stray children rummaged through the garbage heaps for the “treasures” they needed.

Everything was so familiar, yet carried the sense of estrangement that three years apart brings.

But, at last, he was back.

……

……

Scrap Iron City.

A small town with a population of less than a million. Before the influence of the Psychic Barrier Project reached here, it was merely a gathering place for drifters who made a living by selling and collecting scrap iron. Later, when the Barrier Project included it in the third city ring, it was still on the very edge—only a quarry was developed, and there was a meager oil well, barely providing a few pillar industries.

But as for getting rich through work...

That was impossible.

Perhaps it was precisely because of this bleak future that everyone here seemed to have a shadow of dusk on their faces.

William Carter followed the worn road that cut through the town and entered the small settlement.

Along the way, he saw at the city entrance a giant clown, whose two lamp-like eyes had only one left due to long-neglected wiring.

It glared with its single eye, an exaggerated smile on its face.

Watching every vehicle entering the small city, the hat in its hand didn’t look like a salute—no matter how you looked at it, it seemed more like it wanted to throw it at someone.

Outside the half-door of a bar, small groups of young people in bizarre outfits, covered in silver studs, gathered together.

Behind the butcher shop’s glass window, an unshaven pig’s head sat on the counter, facing the vehicles and pedestrians on the street.

The pig’s mouth was long and narrow, always seeming to be smiling.

……

……

“Dilapidated, depraved, rough...”

William Carter sat in his jeep, slowly driving down the street, each scene making him feel an intense sense of familiarity.

This small city seemed to have always been this way.

And it seemed it would continue like this, until one day it was destroyed by some unknown disaster.

However, among the countless small towns that had been abandoned or disappeared, this seemed to be a common phenomenon.

It had been seventy years now. Under the influence of certain forces and the deliberate push of the Barrier Project, people everywhere had flocked madly to the super metropolises, while medium and small cities were shrouded in a sense of desolation and decay. Under the gloomy sky, like wild grass in the wilderness, they gradually lost their vitality.

All of this stemmed from that mysterious great explosion.

That mysterious explosion seemed to have caused no physical changes, yet triggered a worldwide wave of intense panic and anxiety. As these emotions fermented, more and more problems arose: diseases became rampant, regional wars broke out one after another, multiple energy sources dried up, social issues emerged endlessly, and the seventy-year-long great decline of world civilization began at that moment.

Of course, many people didn’t realize that the changes had only just begun.

……

……

Rubbing his face lightly, William Carter pulled his attention back to reality.

He tried to recognize the streets that seemed to have changed a lot in three years, slowly driving toward the city center.

The place he was heading to was the base of the extraordinary in Scrap Iron City.

Due to the emergence of supernatural demonic forces, and the enormous harm these powers caused to social order and public safety, all the world’s major multinational corporations, financial groups, the World Government Alliance, mysterious power research institutes, and other organizations jointly established the Foundation for the Handling of Anomalous Affairs, to investigate, record, research, clean up, and utilize demons and all abnormal phenomena.

The Supernatural Affairs Research and Investigation Division, established by the Foundation, was a secret agency dedicated to purifying and handling these incidents. Every city with a population of over a million had a special base directly under the Foundation’s jurisdiction.

Within the base, there were always stationed teams of extraordinary individuals capable of investigating and purifying all kinds of dangerous incidents, known as:

Extraordinary Sheriffs!

Of course, depending on the size of the city, the strength and conditions of each base varied.

Although, according to the instructor, William Carter’s coming here was not good for his future development, William Carter was determined to return.

When passing Central Avenue, he deliberately made a turn, gazing from afar at a cluster of low apartment buildings.