Thomas knew this wasn't the time to browse through titles and achievements. He stepped over the corpse, heading straight for Ghostface's position. Two bodies, mangled by shrapnel, lay before him. One, a large, bald man with a facial scar, wore expensive gear and a thick gold chain, now marred by the steel pellets that had ripped through him. Thomas easily deduced this was Mad Dog, the refugee camp's leader. Ghostface really used him as a meat shield, Thomas thought, a grim understanding settling in. Ruthlessness is the currency of survival in this Apocalypse Game. "Never leave your back exposed," he muttered to himself, a lesson etched in blood.
He kicked Mad Dog's body aside, revealing Ghostface. Mad Dog's bulk had absorbed most of the modified RGO grenade's blast, leaving Ghostface's upper body and head exposed. The tactical vest was riddled with holes, useless against the onslaught. Ghostface's head… well, it was less a head and more a gruesome collection of fragments. But as Thomas's flashlight beam swept over the remains, his eyes widened in disbelief. Shock, fear, and a flicker of scientific curiosity warred within him. Nestled within the shattered skull, amidst the pulped brain matter, a point of crystalline light shimmered with iridescent colors.
Hesitantly, Thomas gripped the flashlight in his teeth. With a practiced flick of his wrists, a glass vial and tweezers materialized in his hands. Under the flashlight's beam, he meticulously removed the milky-white brain tissue and blood vessels surrounding the shimmering object. Finally free, it revealed itself: a jelly-like substance, the size of a Calamity Coin. It resembled bone marrow, but far more translucent, radiating a rainbow sheen in the light. Tweezers in his right hand, vial in his left, Thomas carefully deposited the jelly-like substance into the container and sealed it tight. Instantly, information flooded his vision.
[Incomplete Neural Bridge]
Type: Rare Item
Effect: Direct use: 70% chance of instant death, 20% chance of brain damage, 7% chance of +3% brain development, 2.5% chance of body modification and +3% brain development, 0.5% chance of unknown effect.
Description: This substance spontaneously generates within the bodies of test subjects injected with incomplete gene-altering serums. Numerous individuals seem to be actively seeking this item, indicating its high value. Rumors suggest it holds the secrets of "divinity." You might want to inquire with XXX about this.
Thomas frowned, studying the description. He'd already suspected something along these lines, so the information itself wasn't surprising. What did pique his interest was the censored portion of the description – a name or location redacted. This was a first. Clearly, this place or person was significant. After a moment's thought, he stowed the vial in his inventory. His curiosity about the Apocalypse Game was already overflowing; this was just another drop in the bucket.
He surveyed the 20th floor, a grin spreading across his face. He couldn't suppress it. An entire night's work, and he'd pulled it off without even needing the remotely detonated emulsion explosives. The Butcher's unexpected attack had been a stroke of luck, diverting Mad Dog's attention and drawing Ghostface into the perfect trap.
The thought of the Butcher spurred him toward the east fire exit. Two gaping holes now marred the steel door, surrounded by a chaotic mess of concrete chunks and scattered bodies. He quickly located the Butcher, barely clinging to life. The man wasn't dead yet. His loyal followers had shielded him from the worst of the blast, and his distance from the epicenter had played in his favor. A combination of fortunate circumstances. But even so, he was as good as gone. While his men might have absorbed the shrapnel, the concussive force from the two modified emulsion charges had ruptured his internal organs. Blood gurgled from his lips.
Combat boots appeared in his field of vision. The Butcher strained to look up, but the blinding flashlight beam forced him to close his eyes. "You sneaky bastard," he rasped, "waiting for me to take my last breath… Well…"
A silenced pistol appeared in Thomas's hand, aimed squarely at the Butcher's head. "Safe travels," Thomas murmured, lips barely moving. "Don't worry, I won't see you off."
Thump.
Watching the Butcher die didn't evoke any particular emotion in Thomas. Before, his mind had raced with possibilities. Now, the act felt… inevitable. He began systematically looting the bodies, stripping them of weapons, equipment, and supplies, stuffing everything into his inventory. He filled any bags he found before storing them as well, a looting strategy he called "bagging."
He'd discovered this trick on the first day of the Apocalypse Game, after killing those two refugees in the subway station. Perhaps because it was the newbie version of the first Calamity, any looted weapons and equipment, even if damaged in combat, would revert to perfect condition once picked up. The same held true now. Many of the refugees' gear had been wrecked in the explosion, but in Thomas's hands, they became whole again.
After experiencing the true apocalyptic power of the blizzard on the rooftop, Thomas realized their "newbie difficulty" first Calamity was a heavily watered-down version of the real thing – a grace period, a chance to prepare for the true horrors to come. He glanced at the current survivor count: 398. If they'd lost 60% of their number during the tutorial, what awaited them in the real Apocalypse Game? A shiver ran down his spine.
It took him over half an hour to collect everything, even the belongings of the refugees who'd died in the hallway. He even revisited the generator, a pang of regret hitting him. "Damn it," he muttered. "Should've salvaged that generator instead of blowing up the whole floor. What a waste." Even so, he managed to scavenge valuable mechanical parts from the wreckage – enough to upgrade his own generator, it seemed.
He scoured the 20th floor three times, retrieving the planted emulsion charges, deactivating the detonators, and storing them away. He didn't regret his meticulous preparations. Having a backup plan and not needing it was far better than the alternative. When facing death, no precaution was excessive.
Even his Monopoly-enhanced inventory was overflowing. A night's work, indeed.
He reached the west stairwell, took one last look at the carnage-strewn floor, and chuckled softly. Turning, his flashlight cut through the darkness, illuminating the path ahead. He broke into a run, heading down…
3:00 AM. Thomas stumbled back to his hideout, his legs heavy. It had been the most grueling experience since the Apocalypse Game began, a marathon of destruction and looting that stretched from 7:00 PM the previous night. After clearing out the 20th floor, he'd ridden his snowmobile back to the Garden Station, the blizzard providing perfect cover. He'd made his first supply run back to the hideout around midnight. He'd considered calling it a night, but the unsettling thought of what awaited them after the first Calamity, the merging with the true apocalypse, kept him on edge. So he'd unloaded his haul and headed back to the Trading Center, starting from the top floor – the 23rd – and commencing a thorough, systematic sweep.
This time, he wasn't leaving anything behind. From crackers and bread to electric motors and sofas, anything remotely useful went into his inventory. Every computer case was cracked open, yielding two graphics cards, bringing his total to a staggering seven. But the loot didn't stop there. The refugees had stashed away a surprising amount of valuables – weapons, ammunition, food, alcohol – in bizarre hiding spots. Toilets and ceilings were apparently favorites. If not for his ability to pinpoint the location of every item within the Trading Center, he would have missed a fortune.
His haul was so massive, he'd had to make two trips back to the hideout, his inventory overflowing twice. The process was arduous, but the result… equally problematic. His hideout, all 200+ square meters of it, was packed to the rafters. A space that once represented a dream for countless workers was now a navigable maze of stacked supplies. The living area was submerged under a mountain of furniture and appliances, even the heated floor covered in loot. In the corner where his explosives workbench stood, crates of ammunition reached the ceiling, the floor piled high with hundreds of weapons and armor pieces. There was no time to organize; he'd just dumped everything. The kitchen was similarly crammed with food and drinks, many frozen solid but still usable. And this didn't even include the high-value and rare items still in his inventory – the loot from Mad Dog, the Butcher, Ghostface, the safe from Mad Dog's room, and the equipment from the two cultists.
Only three things remained untouched: the generator, the intelligence center, and the medical station.
Thomas cracked open an energy drink, needing the boost. He checked the generator. He'd initiated the upgrade during his first return trip. Three hours later, the Level 3 generator was ready. The most noticeable improvement was the increased fuel capacity – from two canisters to four – and the significantly larger battery. It was now practically "charge for five minutes, run for three hours." A joke, but a testament to the Level 3 generator's power.
He turned to the intelligence center. With the generator upgrade complete, it was time for the next step. But first… "The daily intel should be refreshed by now," he muttered, approaching the laptop. Light flickered, and a line of text appeared on the screen, instantly arresting his attention.
[Caban, learning of the Butcher's attack on Mad Dog and subsequent loss of contact, launches an assault on the Butcher's headquarters – the Sparrow City Opera House – at 3:00 AM.]
"Guess I'm not sleeping tonight," Thomas sighed, a grim determination hardening his gaze. He initiated the intelligence center upgrade. This time, however, a new message popped up.
"Survivor possesses rare items [Information Transmitter] and [Information Receiver]. These items meet the upgrade requirements for the Intelligence Center. Do you wish to use them as upgrade materials?"
Thomas paused, surprised. He retrieved the Information Receiver from his inventory and then pulled a device resembling an old Nokia phone from the Butcher's loot – the Information Transmitter. His eyes flickered with calculation. Without hesitation, he selected "Yes." The two rare items, along with the other upgrade materials, dissolved into the intelligence center's shimmering interface.
"Let's hope this is worth it," he murmured. The upgrade would take four hours. Plenty of time to make another trip. He might not have known Caban's location before, but now… he had a theory to test.
He forced down another bowl of Nourishing Mutton Stew, renewing the Invigorated buff. He was starting to get sick of the taste. He donned his usual gear – Level 5 tactical vest, dark cloak, black mask – and equipped the rare title he'd acquired from Ghostface: [Nightwalker]. The title's effects took hold, and he became one with the shadows, a phantom moving towards the Sparrow City Opera House.
[Nightwalker]
Type: Title
Rarity: Rare
Acquisition Requirements: Single-handedly kill a "Cultist Priest" during the first Calamity of the Apocalypse Game.
Equip Requirements: Perform a sacrificial ritual every seven days to appease the night; failure to do so will result in self-sacrifice.
Effect 1: Grants the right to conduct sacrificial rituals and wield the [Cultist Priest's Blade].
Effect 2: During nighttime: -70% stamina consumption, +30% movement speed, +50% perception, +50% dexterity.
Effect 3: While moving in darkness or shadows: +50% concealment, +50% chance of being overlooked.
Effect 4: While moving in darkness or shadows: automatically grants the [Silent] effect.
Effect 5: +Revered reputation with Cultists.
Description: Having slain a Cultist Priest, your strength is acknowledged by all Cultists. The old king is dead; long live the new king!
Note: Title effects are only active while equipped. Only one title can be equipped at a time; effects do not stack.
[Silent]
Type: Rare Equipment Skill
Effect: Eliminates all sounds within a 1-meter radius of the user (including but not limited to footsteps, friction, and collision sounds).