Chapter Seven: The Ruins

Faelon had once read a line in a book—“If there is fifty percent profit, the capitalist will take a risk; with a hundred percent profit, he will trample all laws; with three hundred percent profit, he will commit any crime, even face the risk of the gallows.”

Faelon was quite certain he was not a capitalist, yet as he sat in the speeding off-road vehicle, he felt himself not so different from that capitalist who would willingly put his head in the noose.

The wilderness flashed by outside the window, nothing but endless, desolate wasteland stretching as far as the eye could see. In the distance, sporadic gunfire echoed, but nobody in the convoy paid it any mind. Perhaps it was a sweep, perhaps a ruthless firefight between rival gangs—but for those present, it meant nothing.

Dozens of trucks and off-road vehicles roared down the road, a convoy of impressive scale. Especially in this wasteland, Faelon thought he had never seen a more formidable procession. Though he felt no reverence for the Blackstone Group, the sheer number gave him a certain thrill.

A soft beep sounded in his ear. The next moment, the Queen’s face appeared before him.

“How infuriating.”

“What’s wrong, Queen?”

Faelon smiled faintly at the image of the Queen’s slightly twisted face and asked. Hearing his response, the Queen spat viciously before continuing.

“That old fox did it on purpose. Hmph, this is obviously sending us out as cannon fodder! Who knows what those Blackstone Group bastards are thinking. In the past, I wouldn’t even glance at such a mission. Damn it… it makes my blood boil!”

“But you took the mission, didn’t you?”

Faelon simply shrugged at the Queen's complaints, absentmindedly stroking the black cat curled in his lap. He knew well that despite her disdainful attitude, the Queen was more eager for this job than anyone. Just look at the three heavily armored battle trucks leading the convoy. Unlike Faelon, who operated alone, the Queen led an organization, and she had mobilized nearly two-thirds of her combat force for this mission. It was clear how seriously she took it.

Still, Faelon knew the Queen hadn’t contacted him just to vent.

“Fine, but your sister lacks a sense of security. What do you say, Doctor? Want to lend your sister a hand? As payment, you can do whatever you want with me.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I have another task. I’m afraid I can’t help.”

Hearing the Queen’s invitation, Faelon shook his head slightly. The Queen had tried to seduce him hundreds of times; ever since their first meeting, it had become a daily ritual. Faelon was uninterested—her face simply didn’t appeal to him, and he had no intention of becoming some woman’s kept man. In this apocalyptic world, only strength mattered. If the Queen didn’t know better than to mess with him, she might have already tried to force him into captivity.

“Such a naughty boy—you never try to make your sister happy.”

Once again rebuffed, the Queen complained idly, then fell silent. Not because she had given up, but because their target was now in sight.

Ruins.

From his seat, Faelon frowned at the city before him. It had been ravaged by the Great Cataclysm—destroyed by earthquakes, then swept by floods. It was a city of death. Yet, staring at the ruins, Faelon felt as if he were gazing at the body of a slumbering beast, ready to awaken and annihilate any intruders who dared to trespass.

How fascinating…

He shook his head, a wry smile crossing his lips. He patted the black cat on his knees, then, like a coiled spring, vaulted from the seat, flipping out of the convoy. His shadow, dark and swift, vanished like a phantom among the speeding vehicles, gone in the blink of an eye.

No one was surprised by Faelon’s actions; almost simultaneously, several other shadows leapt from the convoy, racing toward the ruins ahead.

This city, abandoned since the Great Cataclysm, was about to receive new visitors.

It was a ruin—a grave.

That was Faelon’s only impression as he walked slowly down the street. The howling, icy wind swept past him, like a ghost whispering its wails before disappearing at the far end. Most of the buildings on either side had collapsed, wild vines and grasses climbing everywhere, breaking free from cement and asphalt, pushing aside the wreckage above them, boldly proclaiming their existence.

Life never disappears; it only changes.

Faelon sensed the gaze from the surrounding ruins—mad, bloody, beast-like and full of aggression. If he were a scavenger, now would be the time to hide, to avoid drawing too much attention. But today, he was not here to scavenge. He was here to kill.

He was a hunter.

A guttural roar echoed.

As Faelon turned a street corner, an energy-leeching monster suddenly leapt from the ruins of a nearby two-story building, spreading its arms wide. Its translucent membranes made it glide like a bat, swooping down upon Faelon. Its sharp claws tore through the air, whistling toward its prey.

But Faelon was faster.

Just as the monster’s claws were about to seize him, Faelon spun, retreating half a step like a spinning top, narrowly dodging the attack. His scalpel flashed coldly, slicing across the monster’s neck. The head flew off, the body collapsed with a heavy thud, twitched briefly, then lay still.

And with the monster’s death, the battle began.

Dozens of shadows erupted from the ruins, surrounding Faelon from all directions. Blood-red eyes gleamed in the darkness, and their huge, terrifying bodies moved slowly through the rubble. The scraping from the ground was like the footsteps of death itself.

“So, this really is a troublesome job.”

Though surrounded by dozens of energy-leeching monsters, Faelon remained calm. Their permission levels matched his own, but that didn’t mean their combat power did. He pulled down the brim of his hat and smiled.

Well, at least the job will be finished quickly this way, won’t it?

“That’s true.”

As Faelon spoke, sharp scalpels appeared between his fingers, gleaming like the claws of a beast.

“Then, let the operation begin…”