The rain intensified, falling in sheets as the sky darkened.
Gunfire erupted outside the stadium, deafening and unrelenting. Spent shell casings clattered onto the wet ground, each one a potential harbinger of death. Hiding behind a concrete pillar, Wang Wei watched in horror as others who had just escaped were gunned down. The military's bullets weren't ordinary; they vaporized flesh on impact, leaving nothing but scorched holes where body parts once were.
Helicopters roared overhead, their searchlights slicing through the darkness like blades. Wang Wei noticed that the soldiers below were unusually well-coordinated. They wore specialized gas masks and carried high-tech equipment—far too advanced for a hastily assembled response. Worse still was their indiscriminate approach: anyone emerging from the stadium, infected or not, was shot on sight.
"What the hell is going on?" Wang Wei thought, his teeth gritted. "How could they mobilize this fast? And why are they treating this like an all-out war?"
Sticking to the shadows, he crept along the wall. From his vantage point, he could see how the military was dealing with the infected: flamethrowers mounted on armored vehicles spewed searing jets of fire, engulfing the blue-glowing infected in flames hot enough to melt steel. But what he saw next sent chills down his spine: even after the fire died down, the charred bodies twitched and began to regenerate, as if countless tiny machines inside were rebuilding them.
"Over there! More of them!" a soldier yelled.
The searchlight swiveled in his direction. Wang Wei held his breath, pressing himself flat against the wall. Cold sweat soaked through his shirt as his heart raced, threatening to drown out the sound of gunfire. The light lingered for a few seconds before moving on.
Peeking around the pillar, Wang Wei saw an armored vehicle scanning the area with its spotlight. Just ten meters away, a man attempting to flee was hit by a bullet. His body disintegrated instantly, leaving only a charred smear on the wet concrete.
He had to move. The soldiers were tightening their perimeter, advancing in coordinated groups of three. Their formation was meticulous, their weapons futuristic—each rifle emitted a faint blue glow from its barrel.
A burst of gunfire jolted him back to reality. Screams erupted in the distance, followed by the rumble of tank tracks crushing debris. Wang Wei scanned his surroundings. The nearest side door to the stadium was about 15 meters away—an exposed stretch of open ground with no cover.
Just then, a military truck rolled by, its cargo bed covered in waterproof tarpaulin. The shadows it cast offered a fleeting chance. Wang Wei tensed, waiting for the truck to block the searchlight's beam before making his move.
As soon as the light was obscured, he sprinted. Rain pelted his face, and his heart thundered in his ears. Every step felt agonizingly slow, the short distance stretching into an eternity.
"There's movement over there!" a soldier shouted.
Wang Wei didn't dare look back but knew the spotlight was swinging his way. His legs felt leaden, each step harder than the last. Five meters… ten meters… Suddenly, he tripped over something on the ground.
He crashed hard onto the wet pavement, pain shooting through his knee. The spotlight found him, its beam blindingly bright. For a moment, he was certain it was over. Then, by some cruel twist of fate, a corpse toppled over in front of him, shielding him from view.
Ignoring his revulsion, Wang Wei rolled beneath the body. Bullets zipped past, some so close he could feel the air they displaced. The soldiers knew something was amiss, but the rain and darkness hampered their visibility. Wang Wei stayed deathly still, the metallic stench of blood clinging to him.
When the soldiers shifted their formation, he seized the opening. Summoning every ounce of strength, he bolted toward the side door, flinging it open and tumbling into the pitch-black hallway beyond.
The heavy door slammed shut behind him. Leaning against the wall, Wang Wei gulped air, his trembling hands clutching his knees. The corridor was dimly lit by red emergency lights, casting eerie shadows. In the distance, faint sounds echoed—screams, shattering glass, and the guttural growls of the infected.
Though he was no longer outside, Wang Wei knew he wasn't safe. He had only bought himself a little time.
"I need to find somewhere secure," he muttered, steadying himself as he moved deeper into the hall.
The main lobby lay ahead, a grim tableau of chaos. Bodies littered the floor, and the air reeked of blood and fear. Every step was careful, calculated, as he avoided the infected prowling nearby. Their movements were no longer erratic; they seemed to have evolved, exhibiting tactical awareness. What started as feral savagery had become a coordinated effort to corner survivors.
At last, he spotted a safe passage leading to the arena's interior. Just as he was about to move, three infected burst from the left corridor. Wang Wei crouched, holding his breath. In the faint red glow of the emergency lights, he noticed something peculiar: the infected's pupils contracted in response to bright light, causing brief hesitation.
Timing his move with the next flash of the lights, Wang Wei darted into the passage.
Meanwhile, in the control room, Li Yi faced a nightmare of his own. Every monitor flashed red with critical alerts. The environmental monitoring system displayed unprecedented electromagnetic fluctuations, as if an invisible network was forming across the entire arena.
"These readings are insane," Old Liu said, pointing at the screen. "Look at this energy curve—it doesn't match any known biological pattern."
Li Yi magnified one of the data streams, spotting a disturbing trend. The signals emitted by the infected weren't random; they followed a fractal structure, akin to a self-replicating algorithm.
"Liu, do you see this? Every time a new infection occurs, the signal intensity—"
A knock at the door interrupted him.
The tension in the room thickened. The knocking was rhythmic, almost mechanical in its precision. Through the security camera, they saw a uniformed security guard standing outside, head bowed.
"Don't open it!" Li Yi whispered urgently. "Look at his posture—it's not natural."
But Old Liu, perhaps out of habit or recognition, approached the door. Despite Li Yi's protests, he unlocked it. The moment the door cracked open, Li Yi caught a glimpse of the guard's face. Twisted and grotesque, it was illuminated by the eerie glow of two blue orbs where his eyes should have been.
"Damn it!" Liu shouted.
Li Yi rushed to help, but the infected guard's strength was inhuman. He slammed the door open, sending Liu flying into the wall. Before anyone could react, the guard lunged, tearing into Liu like a wild beast.
"Liu!" Li Yi froze, horrified.
"Run!" Liu managed to choke out, his final warning.
Snapping out of his stupor, Li Yi grabbed a few critical data drives from the server and bolted for the fire escape. Behind him, the control room descended into chaos, the sounds of destruction and inhuman snarls echoing through the halls.
Descending five flights of stairs in a sprint, Li Yi's mind raced. Why are the infected coming for us? Is there something in the control room they want?
By the time he reached the first floor, he was gasping for air. The hallway was littered with corpses, the metallic tang of blood heavy in the air. Clutching the drives, he knew they might hold the key to understanding—perhaps even stopping—the disaster.
Just as he rounded a corner, a shadow moved ahead…