An Unexpected Discovery

"Damn it!"

Zane, clenching the nearby shelf for support, hoisted himself up from the ground, hopping on one leg toward the door. With a forceful push, he attempted to seal off the enveloping darkness and the pallid ghostlights of the Wanderers with the heavy metal door.

A decaying hand reached through, wedging between the door and its frame, refusing closure.

"To hell with this!"

Zane grasped his dagger, blade slicing through rotting flesh as if it were butter, severing most of the intrusive hand.

The door slammed shut, and Zane promptly secured the lock. The pounding and dreadful wheezing of the Wanderers persisted from the other side. He shoved the iron cabinet against the door for good measure and cautiously skirted the severed hand on the floor.

After wiping his blade clean, he noticed the yellowed metal—an indication that the acidic secretions of the Wanderers had dulled its sharpness.

Despite the corrosive effect, he pocketed the dagger, cherishing it as the first gift he ever received from his mother.

Resting against a shelf, surrounded by documents, Zane tended to his bleeding thigh with the medkit. The disinfectant spray he applied cleared away both infection and blood.

With surgical precision, he extracted a bullet from his flesh, sealed the wound with a suture device, administered a painkiller, and secured a hemostatic bandage. Completing the task left him sweating profusely within his helmet.

After a moment's rest, he activated his suit's ration extractor and inserted a portion of survival nutrients. A straw extended into his helmet, and he sucked down the high-energy fluid, essential sustenance for a day's activities.

Zane knew all too well the black fog pervading the interstellar wasteland was lethal. Without protection, mere minutes in the fog could prove fatal, transforming an unfortunate soul into one of the grotesque creatures outside.

The rations had to be liquid to avoid exposure while eating, necessitating a sealed system for sustenance.

Warmed by the food, Zane patched the breach in his suit with additional layers of hemostatic tape, hoping to stem the release of pheromones. Their effectiveness was now in fate's hands.

Fortunately, the persistent thumping on the door eventually ceased. But safety was far from assured.

Their squad had been trapped due to Captain Rex's reckless pursuit of glory, cut off by a horde of Wanderers.

Unless a new escape route was found, Zane's survival would be a countdown to an inevitable end.

Clenching his fists, he refused to succumb to death here. He had sworn to provide a better life for his hardworking mother.

And there was the matter of payback for Rex's "kindness," though exacting revenge on his deceitful captain seemed impossible given their stark class divide.

Muffled gunfire echoed from outside—the distinctive roar of an assailant rifle. Zane propped himself up and moved to the window.

Through the thin mist, he spotted a vehicle—a standard-issue Jackal light utility vehicle for harvesting squads—dashing out from the dim alley. Its high-clearance undercarriage and omnidirectional wheels allowed for agile navigation, while the mounted cannons provided some protection.

It seemed Rex and his cohorts had successfully fled the building, though their fate remained uncertain.

Looking up at the overcast sky, Zane noted it wasn't entirely pitch-black. The somber light was reminiscent of the gloomy sky moments before a summer thunderstorm. Heavy clouds blocked out most of the light, casting the city's skeletal buildings into sharp relief.

Rex was right; this wasteland bore a haunting resemblance to Zane's own world, which he ardently hoped would never succumb to such a ghastly fate.

A mournful howl rose from the streets below, drawing Zane's attention to several Wanderers shambling past the building.

These leper-like creatures, omnipresent and wandering aimlessly, infected the world like a virulent disease.

At the bottom of the wasteland's food chain, they were slow and senseless, but in numbers, they could overwhelm everything.

As Zane watched, they moved strangely, stopping at an intersection before quickly retreating as if frightened by something.

Curiosity piqued, he decided to investigate.

Sliding down the external piping, Zane hugged the building's walls, holding his breath as a Wanderer passed by, oblivious to his presence.

Reaching the T-intersection, Zane found it deserted, with overturned vehicles overrun by grotesque, bulbous fungi.

The weak light from his shoulder-mounted lamp revealed patches of fungi across the road, squishing beneath his careful steps. The sensation of decay was revolting.

Upon rounding a corner, a flash of light caught his eye. He followed it to a passage leading underground, marked by a conspicuous sign with symbols and a pictogram of a train—a relic of a civilization that burrowed beneath its city for unfathomable reasons.

At the passage's entrance grew a luminescent plant resembling Moonlight Grass. However, this glowing organism was a crystal structure, known as Starshine Grass.

Zane's heart surged with excitement. Starshine Grass emitted light detested by the dark offspring of the wasteland. Even the indifferent Wanderers instinctively avoided it.

More importantly, it thrived near Star Marrow Pillars. The presence of this prized commodity indicated a Star Marrow Pillar could be nearby—essential for transforming commoners into Ascendants and powering the bastions.

Just discovering a Pillar could earn substantial contribution points.

It seemed Dylan's numerical model had been accurate. If only they had ventured further...

Taking a deep breath within his helmet, Zane descended into the passage. The light grew brighter as he advanced until he reached the bottom and beheld a sight that left him awestruck.

A towering tree stood within the tunnel, majestic and straight, its leaves shimmering with a silver radiance.

The pure light banished the darkness, a beacon of hope in a sea of despair, rekindling the flame of hope within Zane.

He reached out, trembling with excitement and quickened pulse.

But then a shrill noise echoed from above, jarring Zane back to reality.

He spun around, dagger in hand, assuming a combat stance.

Something was coming...