Chapter Three

The corridors of the base hospital reeked of disinfectant and blood.

I dragged my battered body along the dim hallway, searching for Elias's private clinic. Under the murky lights, several nurses hurriedly pushed a stretcher past—on it lay a mercenary with his chest torn open, blood having soaked through the white sheets completely.

"Severe blood loss, get him to surgery now!"

"Heart rate dropping!"

The nurses' urgent voices echoed through the corridor. Scenes of life and death played out here every day; I'd witnessed it too many times before.

Three months ago, Rex had been torn in half by a fourth-tier aberrant, and I had waited here all night. Back then, Lena would still accompany me—though she sat far away, at least she was there. We watched Rex's girlfriend Mary crying in the hallway, watched her kneel at the operating room door in prayer.

"She really loves him," Lena had said softly then.

"Yes," I had looked at her. "Just like I love you."

But she hadn't responded, only stared silently at the floor. Looking back now, she had already begun distancing herself from me by then.

And last month, old hunter Tom's wife died in childbirth in the delivery room. Tom held his newborn child, wailing in the corridor. He said: "I'd rather it was me who died, at least let her see the child once."

At that time I thought, if one day Lena and I faced a life-or-death choice, I would gladly die in her place too.

What a ridiculous thought.

I found Elias's private clinic.

The heavy lead door was tightly shut, with a "Treatment in Progress, Do Not Disturb" sign hanging on it. Faint beeping sounds came from inside, along with some voices I couldn't make out clearly.

A young nurse in the corridor was organizing medical records. Seeing my blood-stained appearance, she approached with concern:

"Sir, you're injured. Do you need wound treatment?"

"No need." I waved her off. "I'm waiting for someone."

The nurse nodded but still gave me a concerned look before leaving.

I leaned against the cold iron wall and desperately pierced through it with my King-level telepathy. Regardless of whether I'd be detected, I had to know the truth. Even if this truth would completely destroy me.

Then I heard Lena's thoughts.

No longer the icy roar she directed at me, nor the nervous fear from the restaurant. At this moment her inner voice was extremely gentle, carrying a kind of thirst and dependence I'd never heard before:

"Much better..."

"Faster..."

"I can barely hold on..."

This was followed by Elias's low, soothing voice: "Relax, it'll be over soon."

I was struck like by lightning.

So that was it.

Now everything made sense—why she'd been so cold to me these past two years, why she went to the medical ward every week, why she panicked so much when she saw Elias collapse.

They were in love.

No, not just in love.

They had already...

Images of her pushing me away countless times flashed through my mind: no hugging, no touching, even holding hands seemed like torture to her. That wasn't because she was sick—that was because her heart already belonged to someone else. She gave all her tenderness to Elias, leaving me only disgust and rejection.

And I, the fool, had been deceiving myself thinking she was just tired, just needed time.

"Are you okay?"

That nurse had returned. She looked at me leaning against the wall, her eyes full of worry.

"Are you sure you don't need wound treatment? Excessive blood loss could..."

"No need." I interrupted her hoarsely. "I'm fine."

Fine? How could I possibly be fine? My fiancée was inside with another man while I stood outside like a clown, eavesdropping.

The nurse hesitated, then finally left. She probably thought I was just waiting for some test results, unaware of what hell my heart was going through.

Rain began to fall.

I walked out of the hospital, letting the cold raindrops hit my face. Rain mixed with cold sweat slid down my cheeks—I couldn't tell which was rain and which were tears.

Three years. Three whole years of feelings, apparently worthless in her eyes. I fought desperately for her like a fool, hunted aberrants for her, exchanged for the best medicine and food for her. And what about her? She was enjoying another man's tenderness.

I reached for the ring on my left ring finger. It was a bullet casing ring I had personally crafted, made from the casing left from my first aberrant hunt. When I put it on three years ago, I thought it would be forever.

Now it seemed like nothing but a joke.

I slowly removed the ring, examining it in the rain. Under the dim streetlight, this crude ring looked so ridiculous. I thought it represented love, but to her, it was probably just a burden.

"Let them be happy together," I smiled bitterly and opened my fingers.

The ring dropped into the mud with a soft sound, then was washed away by the rain.

Just like our relationship, completely disappearing into the darkness.

I stood in the rain for a long time, until I was soaked through, then strode toward the most dangerous place in the outpost—the Meat Grinder Defense Line recruitment office.

There was a contract with a 90% fatality rate waiting for me.

Since she already had a better choice, since in her eyes I was just a useless eyesore, why should I continue living in this world?

At least on the Meat Grinder Defense Line, my death could have some value.

The recruitment office lights were still on. Through the broken glass window, I could see a one-eyed veteran sitting inside. He looked up at me without any surprise—clearly, he'd seen too many desperate people like me.

"Which one do you want?" he asked directly, not bothering with small talk.

"Meat Grinder Defense Line." My voice was hoarse as sandpaper. "The most dangerous one."

The veteran nodded and pulled a contract from his drawer: "Sector Seven frontline, 92% fatality rate. Departure at dawn tomorrow."

I took the contract and signed my name with rain-blurred vision.

Victor Blake.

Maybe this name would soon appear on the outpost's casualty list. But so what? At least I wouldn't have to see her with another man anymore.

The rain grew heavier.

I walked back, my steps particularly heavy. Not because of my injuries, but because my heart was dead.

Tomorrow at dawn, I would set foot on that near-certain death battle line. If I was lucky, I'd die quickly and wouldn't have to endure this pain anymore.

If I wasn't lucky...

Nothing could be worse than now.