Chapter Seventy-Two: The Beast Unleashed

The shrill blare of the alarm caught Tyke off guard. Startled, he gripped his pistol tightly and shrank back into a corner, casting wary glances all around while straining his ears for the slightest sound.

Nothing.

No heavily armed soldiers, no other threat. In fact, Tyke’s infiltration had gone remarkably well—or rather, he wasn’t even sure this truly counted as infiltration, given that he’d encountered no resistance along the way. The only moment of danger had been when he accidentally set off a security alarm, yet no one came to investigate.

Tyke understood well enough what was happening here. He’d seen those soldiers rush down from the walls and hurry toward the main gate. Clearly, they were mobilizing to intercept an intruder—and as for who that intruder might be, Tyke needed no answer.

Even so, Tyke’s nerves remained taut.

Things weren’t supposed to play out like this.

As he walked down the deserted halls, Tyke was struck by the absurdity of it all. He could accept that Ferrin’s appearance had drawn the Federation soldiers’ attention, but it made no sense for them to focus all their forces at the front. In the beginning, he’d run into a few enemies, but they were hardly more skilled than he was; with the element of surprise on his side, Tyke had dispatched several guards without much trouble. But what followed was beyond anything he’d anticipated. The closer he drew to the quarantine block, the stronger his unease grew. From what he remembered, the Federation kept a tight watch over these prisoners. But now—nothing. Not a soul in sight. Tyke was even tempted to fire a few rounds into the air and smash some trash cans, but even then, he doubted anyone would respond.

Where had all the soldiers gone?

Tyke broke into a run, his brisk footsteps echoing down the empty corridors, but he didn’t care. Guided by memory, he hurried through one deserted hallway after another. At last, he reached a massive iron door. This place, once a factory workshop, now served as a makeshift prison for captives. Through the thick metal, Tyke could faintly hear the commotion and shouts within, and a wave of relief washed over him. Truthfully, a moment ago Tyke had feared he was too late—that the maniacs here had already finished their experiments and killed everyone, and that he’d find nothing but corpses when he arrived.

Fortunately, things weren’t as dire as he’d feared.

This heavy iron door was usually locked tight, with four fully armed guards stationed outside. Now, the door stood ajar, and the guards had vanished without a trace. When Tyke burst in, he saw nothing but the empty factory floor and the screaming prisoners.

The Federation offered these captives no freedom. They were crammed into shipping containers with only a single vent to the outside. Under such conditions, their psychological state could only be imagined. Now they howled, cursed, and bellowed at the top of their lungs. Tyke’s ears rang with the noise as he forced himself onward, heading for a container at the back—where his comrades and subordinates were held. If all went well, he’d be able to get them out.

“Tyke! Tyke!”
“Captain!”

As he reached the container, Tyke quickly spotted several familiar faces. They were clearly overjoyed to see him—some even thrust their hands out through the bars and waved. Tyke wasted no time; raising his pistol, he fired at the lock. It shattered under the shot, and the iron door swung open, granting the prisoners inside their long-awaited freedom.

“My God, I never thought I’d make it out alive! Captain, you’re amazing!”
“Captain, how did you pull this off?”

As his men bombarded him with questions, Tyke merely shook his head. He quickly took stock of their numbers, then asked grimly,

“Where’s Beth? And what about the guards who were here earlier? Where did they all go? Do any of you know?”

“No idea, Captain. They took Beth away earlier—we don’t know what for. They took a few others too, then everyone else just left. I thought maybe they were changing shifts, or maybe it was something to do with the gods…”

“They’re all gone. All right, you need to get out of here quickly. I have a bad feeling about this…”

But Tyke hadn’t even finished speaking when, with a soft “bang,” the factory’s bright lights suddenly went out. Darkness swallowed everything.

At that moment, a powerful sense of danger surged in Tyke’s chest.

“We’re leaving!”

The air stirred.

Ferrin raised his head, setting down his glass and the half-emptied bottle of whiskey. Narrowing his eyes, he focused on the signals drifting back to him through the mist. Something was approaching at speed—not human, not beast, and not the aura of any mutant. Instead, Ferrin caught the scent of something burnt in the air. Not the aroma of roasting meat, but something more akin to—

With a sudden swish, a black shadow burst from the fog, lunging at Ferrin from behind like a hunting hound. Yet Ferrin’s reaction was just as swift; in the very instant the shadow emerged, he sprang forward from his chair—where moments ago he’d been sipping whiskey with casual ease. The swirling mist around him surged like storm-swept waves, and Ferrin’s body darted through it like a little boat on a raging sea, dodging the attack by a hair’s breadth. In the same motion, he whipped his right hand around, driving a knife backward at the monster behind him.

At that instant, a crack of lightning split the air.

A blinding flash erupted, so intense it scattered the heavy mist. Ferrin landed noiselessly on the ground, the same faint smile on his lips. Yet his right hand was torn and bleeding, the once-silver scalpel now blackened and scorched, his fingers and skin grotesquely burned by the electric shock.

“This is troublesome…”

He glanced at his injured hand, but the smile on his face did not falter, as if that mutilated hand belonged to someone else. Lowering his arm again, Ferrin raised his head to gaze forward.

And there, emerging from the mist, a monster revealed itself before him.