Chapter 2

Noah was carried into the medical room by two people, leaving a trail of blood. His chest wound was worse than it looked—ability overexertion combined with blood loss. The moment he was laid on the metal bed frame, he passed out without even managing to leave any last words.

At the camp entrance, Lucas planted his feet.

His eyes swept across the entire station like a scanner, left to right. Supply piles, weapon racks, fuel barrels, generators, the size of the food warehouse locks—all information was catalogued neat and tidy within two seconds. A barely perceptible curve touched his lips, fleeting, visible only to me.

"My God!" He immediately switched to an expression of speechless shock, his voice trembling, "This camp... you built a place like this in the apocalypse? This is practically heaven!"

Daisy stood before him, spine straight as a flagpole, the smile on her face unstoppable: "This is the result of everyone working together. Our camp has always adhered to principles of mutual aid and friendship. Everyone—"

"So great!" Lucas grabbed her hand, even squeezing tears into his eyes, "In such a cruel world, to still meet an angel like you... this is karma from our past lives!"

The dozen motorcycle gang members behind him nodded like pecking chickens:

"Big sister, you truly have the heart of a bodhisattva!"

"If we hadn't met you, our bones would be cold by now!"

"This place really is heaven!"

Daisy was practically glowing from the praise. Her peripheral vision swept toward me as she deliberately raised her voice eight octaves: "See? This is the power of kindness! Unlike some people who only know selfishness!"

The camp's echo chamber immediately resonated:

"Daisy's right! Helping others helps yourself!"

"Look how grateful they are!"

Tom hobbled over on his crutch, his face creased with smiles: "Children, it's too dangerous outside. Stay here in peace—this is your home now."

Lucas bent down, grasping Tom's hands with both of his, his expression suddenly switching from gratitude to gravity: "Sir, you're too kind. But I can't accept living here for free with peace of mind."

He straightened up, surveying his surroundings, lowering his voice: "I know the situation outside better than anyone. Zombie hordes are moving, and there are several gangs of raiders prowling nearby. In my experience..." He paused, his gaze precisely landing on the camp's defensive weak points, "this camp needs a more comprehensive defense system. I suggest unified coordination of all resources and personnel—only then can we ensure absolute safety."

"Unified coordination?" Martha frowned.

"Having experienced people command the defenses." Lucas spread his hands, his tone as sincere as a business negotiation, "We've survived this long licking blood off knife edges out there—we know all kinds of dangers. If you let us handle security matters, this camp will be absolutely impregnable."

Daisy's eyes lit up like she'd found treasure, clapping her hands: "That's a wonderful idea! We really do lack combat experience!"

She turned to look at the others, her tone brooking no argument: "What does everyone think? Let these experienced friends help us strengthen our defenses?"

"Sounds... pretty reliable."

"They do understand the outside situation better than us."

"Then it's settled!" Daisy made the final decision, turning to Lucas, "Mr. Lucas, the camp's security is entirely in your hands! We'll fully cooperate!"

Entirely.

I leaned against the wall corner, the cigarette slowly burning between my fingers.

Entirely. When those two words rolled off her tongue, they even carried a kind of pleasure in granting favors. She thought she was doing good, accumulating virtue, using her kindness to reform the world.

What I saw was a flock of sheep personally installing a wolf den in the center of their pen.

Time to go.

I stubbed out my cigarette and stood up, heading toward the repair shop.

"Cole! Stop right there!" Daisy's voice chased after me from behind, sharp as a knife scraping metal, "You're still trying to run at a time like this?"

I didn't look back.

"People just escaped danger and they're already thinking about helping us with security, and you? You only know how to be a coward!"

The buzz of discussion swarmed behind me like flies:

"Cole really is acting strange today."

"Probably feels guilty—after all, he almost got Daisy killed earlier."

"Sigh, Cole used to be so helpful, how did he become like this..."

Daisy got more excited as she spoke, her voice rising wave after wave: "Look at Lucas! Just crawled out of a zombie horde and he's already thinking about repaying kindness! That's a real man! Unlike some people who only know how to hide when trouble comes!"

I finally stopped and looked back at her.

That look probably wasn't too friendly, because she immediately stuttered for half a second, her smile freezing like ice.

But she quickly regained her arrogance—after all, she had an entire camp's worth of public opinion backing her up: "What? Not satisfied? If you're so capable, do something for the camp too!"

I said nothing, turned around, pushed open the repair shop's iron door, walked in, and pressed the close button.

Three layers of armor plating closed behind me in sequence—click, click, click—each sound like a coffin lid being nailed shut. The welding device automatically activated, melting the metal edges with high heat before cooling and solidifying, completely sealing the door cracks.

From the outside, I had sealed myself in a steel coffin.

Silence reigned for two seconds outside, then Daisy's maniacal laughter exploded: "Hahaha see that? Look how scared he is! Locking himself up like a turtle!"

"Pitiful, too scared to even come out."

"How can someone like that compare to Noah..."

Lucas's voice also drifted over, carefully modulated with concern: "That young man seems very resistant to us. Did we do something inappropriate?"

"Don't mind him!" Daisy waved her hand like shooing flies, "Cole's just a selfish coward, a turtle hiding in its shell. Oh, Mr. Lucas, I have the warehouse keys right here—take whatever you need!"

The crisp sound of keys clinking passed through the door panel—I heard it crystal clear.

Stupid woman.

Do you know you just handed the slaughterhouse gate keys to the butcher?

I pressed my palm against the main control console, [Mechanical Dominion] exploding like electricity, spreading along the pipeline system in all directions. Power networks, water lines, ventilation ducts—the entire station's mechanical skeleton lit up inch by inch in my mind like a living anatomy diagram.

Then my consciousness sank downward, passing through three layers of concrete barriers, boring into the underground.

This station was built on an abandoned gas station, with a giant fuel tank buried underground containing tens of thousands of liters of gasoline, originally prepared as supplies for passing convoys. But now, electromagnetic valves, pressure regulators, safety devices—all control systems were locked in my palm like a grenade with the safety pin ready to be pulled.

At the same time, my ability split off another tendril, silently drilling into the engine compartments of the heavy motorcycles parked at the camp entrance. Spark plugs, fuel lines, starter motor core wiring—everything locked in "silent" mode.

Want to run? Not a chance.

All deployments complete.

On the surface: Lucas had become the station's new master, Daisy had stuffed the keys into his hands, and the other residents surrounded them laughing as one.

Underneath: The entire station had become a steel tomb, and I was the only one holding the detonation button.

I lit a cigarette, leaned back in my chair, and turned the monitoring screen to maximum.

In the image, Daisy was enthusiastically giving Lucas a tour of the camp, walking and pointing at various facilities like a tour guide with a group. Lucas walked half a step behind her side, his gaze constantly scanning—what was piled where, which corners could hide people, which walls were thinnest.

Every time he nodded, I flicked ash into the metal box in front of me.

Keep celebrating, you idiots.

Night fell quickly. A bonfire was lit in the center of the camp, with everyone sitting in a circle for dinner. Lucas sat right in the middle of the group, hot soup personally served by Daisy in front of him. He sipped while telling "adventure stories from outside."

"...At that time, over fifty zombies were chasing us, I thought we were definitely done for." He gestured, his expression Oscar-worthy, "Then my brother suddenly flanked from the side—"

"So exciting!" Daisy listened with sparkling eyes, hands cupping her cheeks, "You guys are so brave!"

"Not as brave as you," Lucas set down his soup bowl, his gaze burning with sincerity, "Good people like you are the truly rare treasures in the apocalypse."

Daisy blushed.

Just then, Lucas stood up. The bonfire's shadows carved the shape of a scar across his face.

"Friends, for safety reasons, I think it's necessary to readjust the watch schedule."

Tom looked up: "What do you mean?"

Lucas's expression switched from warm to serious, fast as flipping a book page: "Based on our outside experience, nighttime is when incidents are most likely to occur. The original watch personnel..." He paused politely, "may lack combat experience. If an emergency situation arises, the consequences would be unthinkable."

He gestured behind him. Two motorcycle gang members immediately walked to the food warehouse entrance, politely "requesting" the camp's original night guards to step aside.

"Starting tonight, my people will handle full security." Lucas drew a large-caliber revolver from his waist, spinning it half a turn in his hand, "Also, to prevent supplies from being stolen, warehouse keys will be under my unified management from now on. Everyone can rest assured—"

He grinned, firelight dancing across his face, mapping that scar blood-red.

"I'll protect everyone."

The camp's atmosphere instantly solidified. Several guards who had been replaced stood aside, opening and closing their mouths without daring to speak. Martha clutched her apron edge, rubbing it twice, her gaze becoming evasive. Even Tom's crutch remained planted in the ground for a long time without moving.

Only Daisy still wore her trademark smile, clapping vigorously:

"Mr. Lucas is so thoughtful! Let's do as you say!"

I switched the monitor to the warehouse entrance.

Lucas's men were changing locks. The new one—he was the only one with a key hanging from his waist.

I flicked ash from my third cigarette, my mouth slowly curving upward.

Boiling frogs in warm water—the heat was already on.

And I held the switch, waiting to see when these frogs would start screaming about the heat.

The game continued.