Chapter 70: The Beginning of Death

"Woooo—Woooo—!!"

The shrill alarm blared above the settlement, echoing through the chaos. Gunfire, screams, and furious shouts mingled into one cacophonous clamor; the once tranquil atmosphere within the compound had utterly vanished, replaced only by death and blood.

With a swift motion, Faelen’s scalpel traced a faint arc through the darkness, scything down everything in his path like the blade of death itself. His figure flickered and disappeared amid the thick fog, drifting in and out of sight like a phantom; every time he appeared, he silently claimed another life. The soldiers could not comprehend what was happening. Driven mad, they screamed and bellowed, unleashing gunfire in all directions, desperate to force this devilish intruder from hiding. But in the end, all that remained of them were shattered, mangled corpses.

Exhaling softly, Faelen slipped back into the mist. He could hear the chaos of footsteps all around him, and from these sounds—and the way the fog carried them—he could even judge the number, age, and gender of his pursuers. Unlike the Ninth District, this settlement was highly militarized; so far, all Faelen sensed were soldiers—soldiers, and more soldiers. On the wasteland, only seasoned fighters survived, but the discipline and organization of these enemies were closer to those of a regular army than any Faelen had faced before.

“What on earth happened here?” The captain of the guard rushed over, his face ashen as he stared at the main gate ahead—a realm of death now, where blood was splattered and broken bodies were strewn beneath the pale shroud of fog. What in the world had killed those damned sentries?

“Spread out and stay alert! Report any unusual activity at once! Seal off the perimeter and notify the rear—inform them we’re under attack. Situation unknown!”

Despite the confusion in his mind, the dutiful captain wasted no time issuing orders. At his command, the heavily armed soldiers around him immediately scattered to carry out their assignments. None noticed that, within the drifting fog, a shadow in black was slowly taking shape.

Faelen slowed his pace, moving toward the captain at the center beneath the cover of mist. His steps were light, his bearing utterly casual. Without this shroud, he would have passed for any ordinary soul. But in truth, every move was calculated—each step placed at the most overlooked angle, his posture unremarkable and forgettable. Like a nameless stranger adrift in a crowd, you might notice someone passing by, but try as you might, you could never recall their face. Such was Faelen now: perfectly melded with the fog, such that even if someone’s gaze brushed over him, they’d see nothing but a wisp of mist.

A fully armed soldier, rifle in hand, brushed past Faelen. The man turned his head away, peering tensely at the vague outlines of buildings in the mist, never realizing Faelen had slipped silently by just behind him. On the other side, another soldier, frowning nervously, glanced aside—his gaze missing Faelen’s path by a fraction.

How interesting…

A thrill flickered across Faelen’s face as he gripped his scalpel. He had said he’d help—but only so much. His current role was to use this place as bait, to kill as many of these foolish invaders as he could. As for how Tyke would rescue his subordinates, that was Tyke’s concern, not Faelen’s.

All Faelen cared for now was the exhilaration of slaughter, the ecstasy of ending lives.

Truly, virtue brings its own reward…

Satisfied at the thought, Faelen nodded, lowered his hat brim with his left hand, and took another step forward.

The mist parted. The captain’s face appeared before him, shocked and uncomprehending, as if unable to fathom how someone had suddenly appeared right in front of him. Before the captain could react, Faelen had already raised his right hand.

The gleaming blade pierced into the captain’s gaping mouth, slicing downwards through his throat as easily as carving a duck, severing tongue and vocal cords in a single stroke. With a deft twist, Faelen’s silver scalpel spun around the vertebrae, as if slicing through cake, before he drew it back in a flash.

Faelen’s silhouette vanished once more into the mist. Only then did the unfortunate captain’s head tumble from his neck with a soft thud, blood spraying in a beautiful arc through the air, then splattering to the ground. Yet the guards stationed nearby noticed nothing—for moments before, they too had followed their commander to the other side.

Meanwhile, chaos reigned within the settlement’s command center.

“We’ve lost contact with the guard squad!”

“Third squad—third squad! Do you read me? Damn it, can anyone hear me? Is there anyone left—anyone still out there?!”

“Order everyone to fall back immediately! Elevate the alert to the highest level!”

The command center was in an uproar; the staff shouted over one another, looking much like frantic brokers watching a stock market crash. Nearly half an hour had passed since the gate was breached. At first, they suspected an attack by mutants or some hostile faction, but as the incoming reports dwindled—until there were none at all—their unease only deepened. There was no gunfire, no one reporting sightings of any monster. Those sent out simply vanished, leaving no response behind.

Worse still, despite strict orders to stay vigilant, the news of lost outposts continued to shock them. The situation had already surpassed the limits of their meager imaginations and reached a realm beyond comprehension.

Just what were they up against?