"Damn little bastard, I'll fucking kill you all sooner or later!"
In the Noble Zone of Yindan Base, a figure staggered along the dimly lit street, a bottle of liquor in his hand. He took a gulp for every few steps, mumbling and cursing, who knows at whom.
On his chest, he wore a badge depicting a building—the symbol of Yindan Base. On his back was strapped a six-foot-long corpse cleaver, clearly making him a Special Forces member tasked with dealing with zombies.
The street was spotless, far cleaner than those in the slums. It was surrounded by trees, flowers, and trash bins, almost giving the illusion of returning to a peaceful society.
Once again, the man took a swig and stumbled onwards with blurred vision. Unbeknownst to him, a young man dressed as a sanitation worker was approaching him from behind, wielding a long broom.
Hate filled the young man's eyes as if the figure before him was the source of a deep-seated grudge.
