Chapter 18: Poison or Spice?

Supernatural abilities and technology stood as humanity's twin pillars of survival in this cruel apocalyptic world.

Just as technology branched into fields like biology, chemistry, and physics, the ever-evolving system of supernatural powers had also been categorized into two major schools: Physical Enhancement and Elemental Mastery. To borrow gaming terminology, these could be simplified as Warriors and Mages.

The Physical Enhancement school encompassed abilities that amplified close-combat prowess—boosting strength, defense, and speed while relying on melee attacks. This broad category further divided into subclasses like Mimicry, Augmentation, and Mutation. Whether it was Chu Xun's insectoid abilities, Chu Jie's rock armor, or Chu Qing's diamond physique, all fell under this umbrella, differing only in their specific branches.

Elemental Mastery, meanwhile, covered nearly all non-physical powers tied to natural forces. This included the fire-wielding princess-like girl, Nangong Yan's light manipulation, and even Chu Xiong's summoning abilities—all classified as elemental subtypes.

With systematic categorization came structured training. While supernatural talents were innate, their application could be honed. Thus, every city housed specialized institutions for nurturing these two schools. By decree of the Supreme Council, they were uniformly named:

The Hall of War (for Physical Enhancement)

and

The Hall of Arts (for Elemental Mastery).

Despite their unoriginal names, their teachings were anything but ordinary. Alongside standardized curricula from the Supreme Council, seasoned veterans mentored trainees, imparting hard-won combat wisdom. Through this regimen, novices could rapidly master their powers and unleash their full potential.

After a few hours of restless sleep, Chu Xun left home before dawn, bound for the Hall of War. Only there could he hope to sharpen his skills in the remaining half-month. Yet instead of heading straight to training, he detoured to the clan cafeteria.

Since merging with alien and ant DNA, his metabolism had skyrocketed. The snacks stockpiled at home had vanished into his bottomless stomach within hours. Hunger gnawed at him relentlessly—hence his pre-dawn excursion.

The cafeteria, open round-the-clock to accommodate erratic schedules, offered bland but filling fare for Chu clan members. Pre-packaged meals of lab-grown meat and vegetables lined the shelves, ready for reheating.

"Finally out!" Hidden in shadows, the assassin Gui Ren straightened. He'd lurked outside Chu Xun's quarters for hours, waiting.

Gui Ren—no supernatural gift himself—was lethality incarnate. Firearms, poisons, and stealth were his tools. Over a hundred kills stained his record, including three paranormals. This reputation had earned him a place under Chu Han's wing, later assigned to protect the patriarch's favored son, Chu Jie. Even Chu Jie treated him with wary respect, bargaining rather than commanding when hiring him to eliminate Chu Xun.

"Perfect…" Gui Ren smirked as his target entered the cafeteria. He retrieved vials of toxins from his cloak. Poison was his specialty.

Inside, Chu Xun devoured meal after meal. Strangely, the usually bland food grew increasingly flavorful, rich with unfamiliar spices. "Did that miser Chu Han finally upgrade the menu?" he mused between bites, oblivious to the truth.

In the apocalypse, spices were luxuries—either scavenged at great risk or painstakingly cultivated in mutated soil. Their presence here should have raised alarms…

Outside, Gui Ren paled. He'd laced the food with ten distinct venoms. The weakest could drop a grown man in seconds; the deadliest, Rotblood Blossom, could kill low-tier paranormals by putrefying their veins. Yet Chu Xun ate ravenously, growing heartier with each bite.

What abomination is this?! Sweat dripped down the assassin's neck.

"Ah, satisfied!" Chu Xun patted his full belly, utterly unharmed. Between his acid blood (courtesy of xenomorph DNA), enhanced organs, and lingering Dragon's Blessing serum, even legendary toxins like Soulsever Grass might fail against him.

"Intel was wrong," Gui Ren hissed. No "waste" could shrug off such poisons. Prudence demanded aborting the mission, but greed whispered louder. At thirty-something, his prime was fading. Only gene-enhancement serums—prohibitively expensive—could reverse this. The promised twenty standard crystal cores tempted beyond reason.

He's just a rookie. The killer steeled himself. I've killed paranormals before.

Silent as a shadow, he trailed his quarry into the gloom.