Chapter 2

Under the swaying incandescent bulb overhead, the rusty scalpel—stained with dried dark-red blood—flashed with a nauseating, cold gleam.

George was advancing toward me, step by step.

Driven by extreme excitement, the shriveled muscles on his cheeks twitched uncontrollably.

"Don't be afraid, Victor. Dad has a steady hand. I'll just slip it in along your spine and draw one tube of spinal fluid... For your brother's path to godhood, this is your duty."

He used the comforting tone of someone coaxing a baby, but his eyes betrayed the sheer cruelty of a murderer looking for a score.

Behind him, Martha gripped the iron rod tightly with both hands, guarding the only wooden door like a rabid hound protecting its food, blocking my escape.

On the sickbed, Eric, twisting in agony from his "energy depletion," was secretly peeking at me through his fingers.

Although he feigned excruciating pain, the faint glimmer of my [Eye of True Sight] clearly caught the excitement and greed flashing in his pupils.

That disgusting Abyss Worm in his chest desperately needed my Awakened bone marrow to fill the bottomless pit of its growth phase.

In my past life, they broke my legs with an iron pipe; in this life, they intended to pierce my spine with a steel needle.

I was currently in the weakened phase of a radiation sickness outbreak; I was no match for them in a head-on fight.

But I calmly backed away.

Rule number one of surviving the wasteland: Never dirty your own hands. The environment will teach everyone a lesson.

"Stop struggling, good boy!" George lunged at me with the scalpel like a wild boar.

Now.

Under the [Eye of True Sight], the layout of the high-voltage electrical grid enveloping the tin shack was unmistakably clear.

The short-circuit junction of the grid was right in the corner behind me.

I feigned a stumble as if my stamina gave out. Just as the scalpel was about to stab down, I curled my right leg and, with extreme stealth and precision, delivered a vicious kick to the junction pipe in the corner.

Bang!

Sparks flew, and the smell of burning ozone filled the air.

The lights in the tin shack instantly went out, and the bzzing high-voltage grid outside simultaneously went dead silent.

"What did you break, you idiot?!" Martha's infuriated curse rang out in the darkness.

"Victor!" my father bellowed in rage.

This stupid couple hadn't yet realized what losing the grid's protection meant.

I didn't need to say a word. Out in the wasteland's torrential rain, a dense, scalp-numbing rustling sound rapidly approached the door, accompanied by the overpowering stench of rotting corpses.

A swarm of Wasteland Rot-Rats.

Each one was the size of a wild hound. Earlier, when Martha scratched my wrist fighting for the serum, the rich scent of my bleeding blood had already made for the perfect bait.

CRASH!

The rotting wooden door didn't last a single second before shattering into pieces.

Over a dozen massive dark silhouettes, covered in pustules, flooded into the cramped room like a tidal wave.

Normally, the Rot-Rats would have pounced on the bleeding me first.

But under the [Eye of True Sight], the crystal in Eric's chest was emitting high-frequency energy vibrations.

In the eyes of the mutated rats, who hunted via thermal and energy signatures, Eric on the bed was essentially a premium, high-energy barbecue!

Several massive Rot-Rats completely ignored me, let out piercing shrieks, bypassed Martha, and threw themselves crazily at Eric on the bed.

"Ahhh!! Get away!!"

Eric screamed, his voice tearing. A Rot-Rat leaped onto his chest and bit down on that bluish-purple crystal.

Another rat's sharp claws fiercely raked across his cheek.

Accompanied by the sickening sound of tearing skin and flesh, Eric's beautifully androgynous face was instantly ripped open with three bone-deep gouges, utterly disfiguring him!

"No! My face!! My God-given crystal core!!" He writhed madly on the bed like a maggot.

"Damn you animals! Let go of my god-child!"

Seeing that his "ticket" to Zone A was about to be chewed on by rats, George completely lost his mind.

He threw himself at the sickbed with bloodshot eyes and grabbed the back of a Rot-Rat's neck with his bare hands.

Snap!

The bloated monster violently twisted its head, clamping its jaws dead-set onto George's forearm. Its hind legs kicked viciously against his chest.

Following the crisp crack of breaking bones...

"Ah—my arm!!!"

George let out a blood-curdling howl that barely sounded human.

The mutated Rot-Rat had brutally torn his entire left arm off from the elbow!

The jagged, pale bone splinters were exposed, and blood sprayed wildly, painting the wall red.

The Rot-Rat retreated to the side with the severed arm in its mouth, crunching the bones loudly.

"George!!" Martha, utterly broken, slumped to the ground, a puddle of warm water seeping from her trousers.

Leaning in the dark corner, I watched with cold indifference.

Look at that. This is the treasure you protected as if it were a god. What it brought you was a ticket to hell.

Just as the rat swarm was about to devour them entirely...

In my [Eye of True Sight], the juvenile Abyss Worm curled up in its egg sensed its host’s fatal crisis.

To save its own life, the worm’s tentacles plunged instantly and deeply into Eric’s bone marrow.

Over half of Eric's bodily energy was instantly siphoned away. His whole body withered at a visible speed, leaving him looking like he had starved for three days.

In the next second, with a deafening buzz, an incredibly tyrannical, deep-purple pseudo-forcefield violently exploded!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Dozens of mutated Rot-Rats were instantly blown away by the forcefield, smashing brutally against the tin walls. Their internal organs ruptured, turning them into piles of minced meat and blood on the floor.

The entire room fell dead silent in an instant.

Eric lay paralyzed on the bed like a dead dog, foaming at the mouth, his shredded, bone-deep facial wounds looking utterly hideous.

And yet, after witnessing a floor covered in torn flesh...

"A miracle... this is a true miracle!"

Clutching his severed left stump, George was not grief-stricken at all. Instead, he dropped to his knees in the pool of blood, his eyes burning with sick fanaticism!

Martha also lost her mind, frantically kowtowing to the half-dead Eric. "The Gods bless us! Our son is the son of gods!"

Insane.

Hopeless.

They completely ignored Eric's withered body that was overdrawing his life force, blindly worshiping the "supernatural power."

I saved my breath on laughing at them.

While they were fanatically worshipping, I silently grabbed a high-tier black-market supply bag from under the bed and strapped it onto my back. This backpack contained things the entire family had spent a whole month working to earn.

Relying on the Eye of True Sight, I easily stepped over the scattered rat corpses and minced meat, quietly slipping out the door.

The freezing acidic rain of the wasteland beat against my cheeks.

I turned back for one last glance.

At the one-armed parent kneeling in a pool of blood, and at the deformed piece of trash lying on the bed.

Without a shred of lingering attachment, I turned and vanished into the wasteland's night.