2

The soft wool carpet of the corridor gave way to the harsh, freezing friction of rough concrete scraping against my back. The stench of mildew from the bunker's lowest depths, thick with the perpetual reek of engine oil, bored straight into my nostrils.

Two rows of high-voltage searchlights snapped on without warning. Beneath the blinding glare stood a makeshift platform, crudely welded from abandoned shipping containers and rusted steel plates. A mass of emaciated, lower-tier survivors huddled beneath it. The low buzz of their whispers dropped into a dead silence the moment two mercenaries dragged me out like a dead dog.

"Apex Fortress only has enough rations to last three more days."

Victor slouched in a leather sofa at the center of the platform. The crisp metallic snip of his cigar cutter echoed through the PA system. He looked down at the shivering masses, his voice flat but heavy with undeniable authority. "For the valuable ones to survive, today's 'Purge Ceremony' requires a few volunteers. We need bait to draw away the new swarm of biters gathering at the perimeter."

The crowd recoiled like a receding tide of sewage. I was tossed onto the dark, blood-rusted steel plates. My chest heaved violently, but before I could even catch my breath, the jarring scent of Chanel No. 5 pierced the stale air.

Elena stepped out of the shadows, the sharp clicks of her stilettos echoing off the metal. She didn’t even look at me. Bending down, her slender fingers gripped my ragged collar with blatant disgust, dragging me forcefully toward the release hatch at the edge of the platform.

"Vic, the fortress can't waste resources on dead weight." She turned to Victor, her tone as breezy as if she were selecting a wine for dinner. "He can't even stand, yet he burns through our antibiotics every day. Let him serve a final purpose. Everyone here will be grateful for your... mercy."

Deep within my festering wounds, a dormant, boiling sensation spasmed violently. I stared at her flawless profile, my throat feeling like it was packed with shattered glass. Just yesterday, she had cowered against my shoulder, whispering how she was afraid of the dark. Today, she was shoving me into the abyss with her own hands—just to prove her submission to the man on the sofa.

Victor stood. The heavy thud of his leather shoes beat a grim rhythm against the steel. He walked over, bypassing Elena entirely, his gaze dropping with morbid fascination to my blackened, rotting right leg.

"Sacrificing a leg to save a woman. How touching." Victor prodded my mangled flesh with the toe of his shoe, his voice dripping with mockery. "Such a pity. These worthless, failed-mutation bones of yours aren't even fit to pick the teeth of the freaks outside."

Before the echo of his words faded, he drove his right heel down with his entire body weight, stomping brutally onto my shattered knee joint.

CRACK—

The sickening crunch reverberated through the steel floor, shuddering into the eardrums of everyone present. Jagged bone shards instantly tore through the blackened skin, jutting out of the mangled flesh.

My pain receptors overloaded and instantly shut down. I bit down on my lip so hard that the thick, metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. But then, something bizarre happened. Beneath the agonizing spike of shattered bone, the boiling, alien presence in my blood woke up. Like a shark scenting blood, it surged through my fractured marrow, multiplying frantically, swallowing what was left of my agony whole.

A few splatters of my blood hit the pristine white silk of Elena’s dress, blooming into dark, ugly stains.

"Filthy."

She recoiled as if she had touched a lethal toxin, dropping my collar instantly and stumbling back two steps. Pulling out a silk handkerchief, she scrubbed furiously at the fabric before marching straight to the control console. Without a second of hesitation, she slammed her palm onto the red release button.

"Open the hatch. Let's not keep the things outside waiting." She refused to even cast another glance in my direction.

The deafening screech of grinding gears ripped through the air. The steel plates beneath me split apart, groaning as they retracted. An icy updraft, thick with the putrid stench of rotting flesh, blasted up from the deep abyss. Down in the pit, hundreds of pale, decaying arms thrashed wildly in the darkness, whipped into a frenzy by the noise.

Gravity vanished. As my body plummeted into the void, I didn't struggle. I didn't scream.

From the jagged bone spurs of my shattered right leg, the bleeding had changed. It was no longer dark crimson. It was a viscous, glowing, dark gold. It boiled in the freezing wind, stretching and weaving itself into bizarre, luminous threads.

I tilted my head back, my eyes locking onto the shrinking gap of light above.

Elena stood at the edge of the platform, peering down into the pit. Her eyes held the distinct, sickening relief of someone who had just thrown away a heavy burden.

Our eyes met in mid-air.

I let go of all my anger, all my bitter questions. The muscles in my face completely relaxed. Deep within my pupils, nothing remained but an abyssal, dead calm. It was a gaze entirely stripped of human emotion—the way one might look at a corpse that was already beginning to rot.

Elena’s expression froze. Pierced by that look, she instinctively stumbled a half-step back.

CLANG—

The heavy steel plates slammed shut overhead, severing the last sliver of light from the fortress.

In that final second of plunging into the absolute dark, that boiling, dark-gold power utterly shattered the final floodgates of my heart.