Chapter 10

In that instant, fear bound everyone together in a silent understanding:

Running was the only way to survive.

Panic took hold, and the hunters could no longer suppress their terror. Like a startled flock of birds, they bolted toward the rundown building ahead, abandoning their formation, abandoning each other.

As their footsteps grew frantic, the creatures lurking in the shadows stirred to life. They moved swiftly between trees, through tall grass, over ruins—silent reapers gliding through the darkness, their hunt beginning.

"Don't scatter! Shoot! Fire now!"

Lee's furious roar split the air.

His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot.

He shouted so hard his voice cracked, but no one listened.

No one could.

Even he dared not stop—he was running faster than most. His trembling hands fired wildly at the shifting shapes in the gloom, bursts of flame flaring at the muzzle of his gun.

But fear remained undimmed.

Then—click.

Empty.

His last bullet tore through a monster's shoulder, spraying blood into the night. But it didn't fall. It only flinched, then slowly turned—its eyes locking onto him.

At that moment, it was as if the creature recognized him.

"You."

Then it roared and lunged.

Terror exploded inside Lee. He cursed under his breath, his voice raw."Damn it—these bullets are useless!"

The creatures swarmed forward, their thick hides swallowing every shot like a swamp devouring stone.

His fingers stiffened in fear, his grip sluggish on the trigger.

His hands shook as he clawed through his vest for a spare magazine—nothing.

Empty pouches.

A sinking dread clawed through him. His breath hitched.

"No way. I'm the best candidate—I'm not afraid of these things!" He growled in defiance, but his voice wavered.

"Then why—why can't I move my hands?"

Cold sweat dripped from his temple. He had trained for battle countless times, simulated fights over and over. But those exercises had never prepared him for this—monsters twisted and gruesome, staring into his very soul.

Then he caught sight of Joe ahead—still firing as he staggered forward. His shots were messy, his movements clumsy, but somehow they kept the monsters at bay. Sweat and blood streaked his face, but he kept going.

Lee clenched his teeth, dropped his useless weapon, and sprinted toward him like a man possessed. Joe saw him coming, and for a split second, his eyes lit up.

"Lee! Over here!" Joe shouted, his voice brimming with confidence.

Finally, a chance to prove himself. A chance to show he could fight. In this madness, he was the only one resisting. He believed—if Lee saw him now, he would have to change his opinion.

But—

Lee didn't slow down. He didn't even look at Joe.

Instead, his foot shot out.

Joe never saw it coming. He crashed to the ground, his gun skidding away. Stunned, he looked up."You son of a—"

He never finished.

A monster seized the opening and pounced.

A scream ripped through the night—sharp, raw. Then it was gone, swallowed by the darkness.

Lee never turned back.

He ran.

He ran like a man fleeing his own shadow, his steps stumbling, his heart hammering. His courage, his pride—all shattered in that instant, left behind with Joe, swallowed whole by the abyss.

-----------------

The business lounge in the bustling metropolis was bathed in soft light, the air thick with smoke. Expensive red wine swirled gently against crystal-clear glass but remained untouched for so long it was as if time itself had stalled. Even the atmosphere felt frozen.

On the grand floor-to-ceiling windows, multiple security feeds played in real-time. Half the screens flickered violently, while others had frozen at disturbing angles. Some feeds had gone completely dark, replaced by a flashing red "X," like a silent declaration of doom.

The tension in the air was suffocating. The influential businessmen—people who could reshape industries with a single decision—now sat pale-faced, their usual confidence shattered.

"This is absurd! We poured billions into this, not to feed these monsters!" One of them erupted in fury, smashing his wine glass against the pristine white carpet. The spilled wine spread like a pool of blood.

"This doesn't make sense." A director in a gray suit spoke in a sharp but quiet voice, his tone laced with disbelief.

"These things were supposed to be mere carriers for the black spores. How did they evolve into coordinated killers? They dodge gunfire, flank their targets, even disguise themselves! How can you say that's not intelligence?"

"Nonsense!" someone shot back immediately."That's not intelligence! It's just instinct, pre-programmed behavior! They're nothing but highly advanced hunting machines—reacting, attacking, surviving through reflex! Stop dramatizing it."

"Then explain this." The man in gray smirked coldly, pointing at a frozen security feed. The image showed one of the creatures surrounding a soldier—but it wasn't attacking. It was creeping closer, its formation shifting, waiting… as if it wanted the prey's mind to break before striking."Is this instinct? A mere program? No—this is humiliation."

Patience snapped. A man slammed his palm against the table."I don't care if they've developed some battle awareness—this slaughter needs an answer! We strike back! These failed experiments must pay—with firepower, with airstrikes! Burn them, wipe them out!"

"Burn them?" An older businessman scoffed."That's the most valuable sector we invested in. Do you want to destroy your own multi-billion-dollar assets just to feel better?"

The shouting escalated, voices clashing wildly. No one was listening—only arguing.

Only Chairman Park remained still at the head of the table, like a statue. His fingers tapped lightly against his chair's armrest, each tap sending a ripple of unease through the room.

He finally spoke, his voice calm yet carrying undeniable authority."Did you all forget? We were the ones who wanted to see how the black spores reacted in human hosts. You wanted to harness their evolution for profit. We were the ones who sent civilians into the lab. It was us who started this war."

Silence fell. Then, someone impatiently countered,"So what? Even if we made mistakes, we can't back down. They're just failed products. We need space for the successful ones."

"But they haven't failed," Park murmured."They think. They plan. They strategize. They're breaking free from the limitations we designed. This isn't failure—this is awakening."

The words sent a chill through the air.

"If they've truly awakened… and they're beyond our control, beyond our use—what are they good for?" someone muttered, voicing the fear none wanted to confront.

"Shut up!" Another executive roared."This is our technology! Our property! We own the control!"

But no one argued further.

Then, one of the security monitors flickered. In the remaining footage, a creature lifted its head—its gaze locked directly onto the camera. There was no mindless hunger in its eyes. Only calculation. Judgment.

It knew it was being watched.

A deadly silence blanketed the room.

Park remained as composed as ever, his eyes fixed on the screen, unnerved but calm. His stillness, however, only made others more anxious.

He glanced at the surviving feeds. Earl—his nephew—was still alive, though the shaky camera suggested danger. That was the most important detail.

He didn't decide immediately. Calculating losses, considering alternatives—these creatures couldn't just be eradicated. Capturing them would be the best outcome. Plans had to shift. A special force should be sent in.

Then, his mind turned to the young volunteer. Cold, eerily calm—almost too much so. Beneath that composure was something stronger: an overwhelming sense of independence. And that, above all, was what the system feared.

"What a shame," Park murmured.

If he could preserve that brain, erase the original consciousness, reset it entirely, and upload his personally designed template—it would be the perfect vessel. An ideal "eternal shell." Compared to the degraded, unstable failures, this young man nearly fit the desired blueprint.

But the technology wasn't fully refined. Each attempt at implantation had been rejected by subconscious resistance—awareness wasn't a blank slate. It fought back.

Park's thoughts drifted deeper, darker. And then, he realized—perhaps it was time to involve her.

The woman in red.

She wasn't of this world. Two decades ago, they had met once—she appeared barely twenty then, her eyes sharp yet unreadable. Now, twenty years later, she hadn't aged a day. As though time had never touched her.

And yet, he had grown old. Despite the best preservation methods, his body still betrayed signs of decay.

She had once said:

"You chase eternity, yet I have already left death behind."

He remembered how the air had chilled when she spoke those words.

At first, he thought her a fraud. But then, he had seen her raise a corpse inside a red-marked circle—and whisper to it.

That day, he knew she wasn't lying. She wasn't a fraud. She was simply mad—but mad in a way that worked better than science.

If the price was gold, he could pay.

If the price was his company, he could pay.

If the price was his soul—he had never valued it anyway.

As he weighed the cost, a touch on his arm snapped him from his thoughts.

It was his assistant, Frank.

"Sir," Frank whispered, barely containing his shock."They… they seem to be communicating with young master Earl."

Park's head shot up, his eyes as sharp as drawn blades."Impossible."

His gaze locked onto the main screen. His fingers tensed, veins rising on his hand. He knew these creatures too well—since the moment they lost control, they had existed only to kill, mindlessly violent, attacking anything, even their own kind.

These monsters… could not "communicate."

"Enlarge the image," he ordered quietly, almost to himself.