“Step on it, charge through!” The quick-reacting Colonel swiftly positioned the M5G43 through the firing port on the car roof, shouting a loud order to the Driver in the front seat.

“...But they... they’re all civilians...” Hearing this, the Soldier gripping the steering wheel looked troubled. Suddenly, the speeding vehicle began to slow down slightly.

The Soldier wasn’t mistaken. Of the four mutants, aside from one wearing a black-and-white police uniform, the other three were dressed as ordinary civilians. Especially the one standing on the outer side of the road, whose upper body was draped in a filthy, tattered tank top, with a blue denim skirt around her waist and hips, soaked in blood and dried again, looking like withered tree bark. Her stockings were torn in countless places, and two spherical, semi-circular mutated bulges rose high on her chest—clearly a woman.

“They are no longer human in any real sense, let alone so-called civilians. They’re monsters that have crawled out of the grave.” Brian Carter leapt into the vehicle’s machine gun nest, swinging the muzzle sharply toward the side of the road, and roared angrily at the hesitant Driver: “If you don’t want to become one of them, then floor it—”

This is the difference between a Veteran and a Rookie. Shocked into action, the Driver snapped to attention and slammed the accelerator with all his might. Amid the deafening roar of the engine, the assault vehicle shot forward like a shell from a cannon, charging toward the intersection a hundred meters ahead.

The mutants showed no intention of dodging. They leaned forward, using their slightly bent, outstretched right arms to maintain balance. With a light touch of their toes, their agile bodies, propelled by tremendous recoil, lunged straight at their chosen targets.

“Suppressive fire! Don’t let them get close to the vehicle—”

With a furious shout, Brian Carter gripped the machine gun handles and unleashed a barrage of powerful bullets. Instantly, a blazing fan-shaped curtain of death formed in front of the moving assault vehicle.

They couldn’t engage the physically powerful mutants in close combat. The only option was to use the penetrating force of bullets to slow their attacks, then concentrate fire to wipe them out in one go. This was the most valuable lesson he’d learned, proven time and again by the deaths of countless Comrade. A dense barrage of bullets from multiple weapons was even more crucial during a breakout.

Large-caliber machine gun rounds struck the bodies, instantly blasting gaping wounds the size of wine cups. Through the oozing, thick black blood, one could clearly see fragments of flesh and shards of white bone. Yet, what would be fatal injuries to ordinary people had no effect on the mutants. They merely staggered slightly from the impact, then quickly regained their posture, accelerating like carrion vultures swooping down on prey that might escape at any moment.

The Soldiers stood on both sides of the open-top vehicle, desperately pouring bullets from their weapons. By rank, Brian Carter had no right to give orders, but without exception, they all followed his commands, rapidly building a dense curtain of fire around the vehicle.

At times like this, the experience of a Veteran was far more effective than the orders of a General.

The virus occupying the human body seemed to have inherited human intelligence. As the first two mutants were riddled with bullets and flung like tattered rags to the street corner, the two monsters behind them leapt high from the ground. In a slanting attack, they swung their sharp, elongated bone blades down at the exposed vehicle compartment.

“Watch out above—”

Brian Carter, accurately sensing the enemy’s move, swung the machine gun upward at lightning speed. The bullets fired at a blistering rate. Against such overwhelming mechanical force, the mutants attempting a sneak attack were torn apart midair before they could even land. Seeing this, the shaken Driver stomped hard on the gas, speeding through the chaotic street like a bolt of lightning.

It happened so suddenly that the unprepared Soldiers inside the vehicle were thrown about. Brian Carter, unable to keep his balance, was flung to the side. As he propped himself up with his elbow and struggled to his knees, his pupils, deep in the darkness, suddenly contracted to needle-thin slits.

The dead Soldier tied to the rear of the vehicle had somehow come back to life. It was struggling and writhing desperately. Between its lips, forced apart by the tight wire, several sharp, white fangs had grown. Its bulging eyes, as large as ping-pong balls, radiated an unmistakable murderous rage.

It had mutated.

A black bone blade had sprouted from its left elbow, slanting against the vehicle. Because its wrist was bound by wire, this deadly weapon could no longer be used as intended. Only at the thin, sharp tip of the blade was there a bright red smear of blood, trembling slightly with the shaking of the vehicle.

That was Brian Carter’s blood. When he fell, his left shoulder had struck the blade, leaving a wound about two centimeters long.