He subconsciously squeezed his left hand. He found that the soft five fingers showed no sign of sticking together. The exposed skin, though somewhat darkened, still retained its original color, rather than displaying the coal-black, lifeless hue of the mutants.

In other words: right now, I... can still be considered a normal human...

Sitting inside the jolting, swaying vehicle, the cold sweat breaking out on his forehead had already soaked the tips of his hair. Precisely because of this, his involuntary trembling was completely masked by the shaking of the car.

Brian Carter was certain—he had already been infected by that unknown virus. But what puzzled him was that his body had not mutated like those who had died.

This was abnormal.

So many people had died, and I alone am the exception?

What, exactly, is the answer...

...

“Screech—”

Suddenly, the harsh sound of rubber tires braking violently against the ground caused panic and confusion among the fleeing crowd. Through the assault vehicle’s front windshield, it was clear to see: more than a dozen mutants, each holding a bone blade at an angle, were slowly approaching from the other side of the street. In their deeply sunken eyes, there was nothing but a thirst and desire for fresh blood.

Henry Clark gave no order, and no one fired a shot. Except for the children crying in their mothers’ arms, everyone else stared at these terrifying reapers with complex, fearful eyes.

All the mutants wore tattered, gray-green military protective suits. Some even still had bloodstained M5 military helmets on their heads. On the upper left arm of the suits, there was a striking red patch with a yellow-bordered five-pointed star, and the word “Army” embroidered in bold black thread.

“They used to be our people...”

The colonel’s face turned pale as he muttered subconsciously, his hands gripping the gunstock trembling uncontrollably.

As the most elite soldier, he could bravely face any opponent. But these monsters before him were once his living comrades!

He simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was as painful as pulling the trigger on his own brothers...

“Get out of my way—”

Suddenly, Brian Carter, like a furious lion, leapt out of the vehicle, snatched the G180S long-range sniper rifle from a nearby soldier, and slammed it onto the roof beam. With a muffled gunshot, the head of the leading mutant exploded into a gaping, bowl-sized hole.

“They’re no longer human. We have to kill them, hurry—”

Brian Carter roared hoarsely as he fired shot after shot through the crosshairs of the scope. Two streams of hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

Those mutants had all been his comrades-in-arms. Without them, he would probably have died in Kunming long ago, becoming just another walking corpse scavenging the ruins.

Brian Carter could still clearly remember what the captain had said to him before dying.

“While I’m still conscious, cut off my head. Don’t be a coward. I’m a soldier—I want to die with dignity. Please, don’t let me become one of those cold-blooded monsters—”

Death was the easiest release. Mutation of the corpse, however, was the greatest insult to the dead.

“Fire—”

The multi-barreled machine gun unleashed a hail of bullets, forcing the advancing mutants to stagger backward. The raging torrent of metal tore their powerful bodies to shreds. Bullets punched through flesh, sending warm brain matter and fragments of soft heart flying in all directions... Minutes later, the wide street was left with nothing but blackened corpses lying in pools of blood.

Brian Carter wiped away his tears, jumped out of the vehicle expressionlessly, and quickly walked to the nearest mutant corpse. He drew the dagger from his waist and plunged it into the still-twitching neck. Amid the sound of flesh and bone being separated, he retrieved a rectangular pendant from the foul-smelling flesh and carefully placed it in his chest pocket.

It was the identification tag of a soldier of the Republic. From generals to privates, everyone had one.

The second body.

The third...

No one spoke, and no one tried to stop him. Only after he had collected all the tags from the corpses and returned to the vehicle did the convoy carrying the refugees start up again, roaring away from this dead city that was now nothing but ruins.

...

A gray roof, with a half-foot-square hanging lamp suspended from it. The hazy light filtered through the frosted glass shade, casting an amber-like pale yellow glow.

Ever since returning from the mission, Brian Carter had been lying on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling above. A single hanging lamp, a few cement panels separated by plastic strips—these had become the only unchanging things in his eyes.

On the army-green painted wooden table in front of the bed sat a lunchbox with its lid open. Through the congealed grease and compressed meat and vegetables, the rice grains underneath could be seen, already cold and hard. Even so, to the hungry, they still held the most primal allure.