Chapter1

The sound of teeth cutting through the carotid artery was exceptionally clear.

The dull thud of blunt teeth grinding against the blood vessel wall was like a rusty saw cutting through frozen meat. Warmth splashed onto my jaw, and I could feel my throat spasming and contracting inside the other person's mouth, making a final, futile struggle.

Elena looked down at me as I tumbled into the mud. Her blue eyes, which had once been brimming with tears, were now as cold as ice—just five minutes ago she had held my hand and said, "You're the only one in this world who's ever been good to me."

She tilted her head, as if she were taking off a heavy mask that she had worn for too long.

“You can’t even stand properly now. If I take you with me, everyone will die.” She flicked the blood off her hands repeatedly until no more red could be seen between her fingers. The dazzling flames surrounding her were the very essence I had just severed for her. Crimson light danced in her palms, casting flickering shadows on her face.

My chest cavity was empty, and of the seven source cores, only four were still barely beating.

Before I could even swallow the blood in my throat, I was kicked in the back. I recognized the tread pattern on that military boot. Last week, I squatted by the river, scraped the mud off the sole of his boot with a dagger, and then cut strips from an old tire to add a non-slip tread to it. I still remember the force with which he patted my shoulder when he said "Thanks, brother."

Those boots were now pressing down on my tailbone. David didn't even turn around when he pulled his foot back. "Trash should stay where it is."

A sharp pain struck. Countless festering mouths swallowed me whole.

The first bite landed on my left arm, the second on my side. I tried to brace myself, but as soon as my arm left the mud, another sharp jaws seized it, and the cracking sound of my wrist bones breaking filled my ears.

Elena stood on the steps three meters away, the firelight illuminating her serene profile. She lowered her head, playing with the flame in her palm as if admiring a new piece of jewelry. She didn't even glance in my direction a second time.

Just before her throat was completely severed, my gaze passed through the dense cluster of blue heads and finally settled on the sycamore leaf clinging to the hem of her skirt.

I took it off and pinned it in her hair this morning when I passed by the park.

She said it looked good.

——

He suddenly opened his eyes.

I clutched my neck and forced a deep breath of cold air into my lungs. The phantom pain of my throat being torn apart still throbbed in my nerve endings, each breath accompanied by a fine, stinging sensation.

wrong.

My palm rested against my Adam's apple, smooth and intact. No blood, no gash. I blinked frantically, my vision gradually focusing. Before me was a crossroads in Lower Manhattan, sunlight filtering through the clouds, carrying the last, false tenderness before the apocalypse.

The ear-piercing screech of brakes erupted.

A yellow taxi veered off the road and veered onto the sidewalk, its door scraping against a metal lamppost and sending sparks flying. A following taxi, unable to avoid it, crashed head-on into the trunk of the first taxi. Then, a city bus full of passengers crashed into it from the side. The three vehicles were mangled into a heap of scrap metal, flames shooting into the sky.

Amid screams, the chain-reaction collision shattered street-side windows. Shop windows crashed to the ground, shards of glass scattering in the midday sun. One shard grazed my ear, leaving a thin line of blood on my cheek.

I stood there, stunned, my fingertips touching the warmth on my cheek. The stinging pain came belatedly.

It's not a dream.

I lowered my head and opened my hands. On my palms, seven faint lights flowed quietly—the purple of thunder, the blue of ice, the red of fire, the cyan of wind, the yellow of earth, the green of wood, and the white of light. They were like seven fireflies trapped in a glass bottle, slowly swimming around the lines of my palm, each rotation bringing out a gentle pulse.

The abundant source energy surged through my limbs and bones. I clenched my fist, and that familiar, expansive feeling of grasping a ball of lightning rushed up my meridians, straight to the top of my head. That was the source energy that I had forcibly ripped out and handed over to others, and it was still there now.

Each one beats perfectly. The seven source cores are like seven hearts, contracting and relaxing simultaneously, pumping out scalding power.

I was reborn.

The first second of the catastrophe.

A third explosion rang out in the distance. The tanker truck had detonated on the overpass, sending a black and red mushroom cloud into the air. Screams grew louder, and the crowd scrambled through the streets like headless flies. From the thick smoke on the right came a sickeningly painful sound of bones grinding together.

I know that sound all too well. It's the first stage of mutation, bone remodeling. In my past life, I heard that sound no less than three hundred times on the third day of the cataclysm, each time accompanied by screams of flesh being torn apart.

A figure covered in blood smashed through the car window. His left arm was completely mutated, his elbow bent backward, his five fingers deformed into bony claws, and his nails grew three inches long. His jaw was dislocated and tilted to one side, and blood and foam mixed with broken teeth kept seeping from his mouth. He was ejected from the burning car in a twisted, four-limbed manner, heading straight for me, who was closest to him.

An old acquaintance. A first-generation mutated infected. In my past life, to cover Elena and David's retreat, I endured three bites from it. The first bite was on my right shoulder, the second on my left rib, and the third it chewed up and swallowed half of my hand.

This time, I raised my right hand and closed my five fingers.

A violent burst of purple lightning exploded in my palm, like a dragon awakened from its long slumber. The current tore through the air, emitting a shrill whistle like a branding iron being plunged into cold water. The lightning whip, carrying the fury of every source core in my body, cleaved through the thick smoke and precisely pierced its head.

"Smack."

The mutant's head exploded like a watermelon filled with water, its grayish-white brain matter mixed with black blood plastering the wall. The headless body, propelled by inertia, lurched forward two more steps before crashing to my feet, twitching twice, and then remaining completely still.

At my feet, a gray crystal core had just formed, about the size of a thumbnail, with uncongealed slime still on its surface.

I glanced down, raised my military boot, and crushed it.

My gaze swept across the inferno to the convenience store three blocks away. Half of the white sign was blackened by the thick smoke, but the "24H" sign was still lit.

The timeline in my memory is as clear as a map etched onto my retina. Elena and David are currently hiding behind the third shelf of the convenience store, with a rickety billboard overhead. They're waiting, waiting for me, this "useless" person, to fight my way out and "meet up."

In my previous life, I did go. I dragged my half-eaten body into the convenience store, collapsed against the door frame covered in blood, and with my last bit of strength, I cut out the three source cores—Wind, Fire, and Light—and stuffed them into their hands. Elena knelt before me, crying, and pressed her forehead against the back of my hand, vowing, "I will always be your support, and I will never leave you alone."

Her support ultimately pushed me off the rooftop.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. The screen lit up, and the incoming caller ID was a picture I took of her last week. She was standing on a park bench, holding a dandelion in her hand, smiling at the camera. The wind blew her chestnut curls, and sunlight shone on the tip of her nose.

The word "Elena" was displayed on the screen.

I stared at that name for three seconds.

The moment the call connected, a woman's terrified, tearful voice came through: "Where are you? It's so scary outside, the streets are full of monsters... I'm so scared, please come save me..." Her voice trembled, with perfectly timed sobs and rapid breathing. In my past life, when I heard this recording, I jumped off the second floor, breaking my left ankle, but still crawled towards her.

As I listened to the voice that had once made me give everything, I tightened my grip slightly.

The phone's casing dented, then shattered. The circuit board bulged out of the crack, and the screen exploded into a spiderweb pattern. The tearful voice turned into a sharp electrical buzzing, and finally vanished completely.

With a flick of my wrist, the residue fell into the roadside sewer.

Turning around, he ignored the convenience store and strode towards the abandoned subway station entrance, which was in the opposite direction. The wind elemental core spun rapidly in his chest, and a ring of wind blades silently wrapped around his ankles. With each step, a half-inch deep crack appeared in the ground.

The screams from the street behind pierced the sky. More people had been bitten, more had mutated, and more had been pounced on by their newly mutated relatives. Heart-wrenching cries surged and receded like a tide.

Two newly mutated zombies poked their heads out of the passageway. Their eyes were not yet completely cloudy, and the whites of their eyes were covered with grayish-black blood vessels.

As I walked past them, the sharp edges around me felt like two invisible scythes.

Two heads rolled off simultaneously, the cuts smooth as a mirror. I stepped over the wreckage and into the dark depths of the underground, my footsteps swallowed by the concrete walls.

They'll just wait there to die for the rest of their lives.