Miles gathered with the civilians in a nearby clearing. He clenched his fists, knowing full well that sending those soldiers inside was nothing short of suicide. The best course of action would have been to demolish the entire building, burying whatever monstrosity lurked within it.
But there was a problem.
Inside that building were hundreds of civilians—isolated for precautionary monitoring. They weren't infected, at least not yet. Hearing the explosions and gunfire, they had locked themselves inside their rooms, too terrified to move. Ironically, their fear turned them into the perfect human shield for the creature.
As expected, despite the soldiers' bravery, it only took ten minutes of fierce gunfire, grenade blasts, and desperate shouting before everything inside went eerily silent. The communications team frantically tried to hail the troops, but not a single reply came. Grim realization spread across the commanders’ faces. Anger quickly followed.
“Damn those scientists and their viruses!” one officer cursed, slamming his fist into a nearby console.
Suddenly, Paige—the Special Forces operative Miles had encountered before—stepped forward and snapped a salute. "Sir, I recommend we deploy missiles and raze the entire building. We have to eliminate the creature before it spreads."
The commanding officer’s face darkened. "Soldier, are you suggesting we execute over a thousand uninfected civilians? Those people are only under observation. Most are clean."
Paige's jaw tightened. "Sir, I believe once the creature entered, survival chances dropped to near zero. Anyone inside is likely either dead or infected."
"Likely isn't certainty," the officer barked. "Until we have definitive proof, we will not authorize a strike."
Frustration twisted Paige's features. "And what about the lives of the men we just lost? Are their lives any less valuable?" she demanded, voice rising with emotion. "This thing slaughtered two hundred trained soldiers like it was nothing. Close-quarters combat is suicide."
"You think this is easy for me?" the commander roared back. His voice cracked with the weight of command. "You think I want to send good men to their deaths? Until we have a better plan, we hold this line. High alert status. Heavy weapons ready around the clock. If that thing shows itself, we unleash hell. Until then, everyone stands by!"
Miles listened from the temporary command vehicle, sighing inwardly. They're hesitating, he thought bitterly. Paige is right. If they don’t act now, the civilians inside will just become nourishment for the creature, making it even stronger.
Six agonizing hours dragged by as the army and the monster faced each other in a tense stalemate. Then, without warning, the nightmare truly began.
Screams erupted among the troops as several soldiers collapsed, convulsing violently, foam bubbling from their mouths. Nearby civilians were struck down too, twitching uncontrollably as something visibly writhed under their skin.
"Goddamn it—they're turning!" someone shouted, panic tearing through the crowd like wildfire.
Soldiers and civilians alike scattered in terror, forming a chaotic human tide. No one wanted to be near the infected.
Some soldiers raised their rifles, but most hesitated. The infected were their brothers-in-arms, their friends. Could they really pull the trigger?
Paige had no such doubts. She drew her pistol without hesitation, aiming at the nearest thrashing soldier—only to have a superior officer grab her arm. His face was a mask of outrage.
"You point that weapon at a comrade, and I'll have you court-martialed!"
Paige wrenched free, glaring at him. "You know damn well this is mercy! Letting them mutate and slaughter the rest of us—that’s what’s truly monstrous!"
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The officer said nothing, guilt flickering across his features. Around them, hesitation hung heavy—until the top commander finally strode forward, his voice cutting through the confusion.
"Fire at will! Put them down!"
Reluctantly, soldiers raised their weapons. Salutes were given to the infected, a final act of respect. Then the gunfire started—loud, relentless. Dozens of infected soldiers were gunned down where they lay.
The commander’s next order was brutal but necessary: "Any infected—execute on sight."
A grim purge followed. Troopers moved methodically, delivering mercy shots to those starting to mutate. Within minutes, the ground was littered with corpses, and cleanup crews in hazmat suits rushed in to remove the bodies.
Then—chaos.
One of the "dead" soldiers suddenly snapped its head up, blood-red eyes gleaming with malevolence. Its mouth gaped open, and a long, spiked tendril shot out, piercing a nearby worker’s chest in a spray of blood.
Screams broke out as dozens of tendrils erupted from the corpse pile, impaling anyone too slow to flee. The creatures dragged victims in, feeding ravenously on their brains.
The soldiers opened fire, but these mutants had gained a horrific kind of intelligence. They used the corpses as shields, advancing behind their grisly barricades. Meanwhile, more tendrils lashed out like whips, skewering soldiers with terrifying speed.
Rocket launchers and grenade operators rushed forward, blasting the creature-wall with explosions. Flames engulfed the monsters, filling the air with the sickening smell of burning flesh.
But it wasn’t over.
From the firestorm burst several humanoid figures, their bodies ablaze but moving impossibly fast—five times faster than a normal human. In seconds, they were among the ranks, tearing soldiers apart with claws that ripped through armor like paper.
"Snipers—take them down!" a commander screamed.
From rooftops and treetops, snipers opened fire. Headshots were the only way to kill these things, and skilled marksmen dropped several within moments.
Yet even as they fell, a new wave surged forth—grotesque mutants with twenty-meter-long tongues that could pierce through flesh and bone. They targeted the snipers, dragging them down from their perches to be shredded into bloody chunks.
Windows on the quarantine building shattered simultaneously. Hundreds of crawling zombies and dozens of tongue mutants poured out like a living flood.
Panic swept the battlefield.
The army’s 2,000 men were overwhelmed. Explosives couldn’t be used safely anymore—too many friendly units were mixed in. Bullets only worked with perfect headshots, and even then, not always.
Miles, watching the chaos unfold, made a snap decision. He sprinted toward a two-story building’s rear entrance, slashing the lock open with his Greedy Blade and kicking the door in.
He barely dodged as a green, acid-filled projectile slammed into the wall beside him, melting it instantly. He grimaced. Looks like the Devourer plans to turn this place into a breeding ground.
At that moment, his system chimed.
He opened his interface quickly:
New Missions:
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Kill the Devourer Jarek. Reward: 1,000,000 credits, +5 levels. Time limit: 1 month. Failure will cancel the mission.
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Support the defense of Chicago First Military Medical Center for 8 hours. Reward: 2,000 credits.
Miles let out a dry laugh. "They seriously expect me to kill a Devourer? Maybe in a month... but now?" His eyes glinted with resolve. But if I can farm enough experience here, maybe... just maybe...
With a flash of black light, his Hunter’s Assault Rifle materialized in his hands. He lined up a crawling zombie in his sights and fired.
The 75-attack power rifle barked three rapid shots, each bullet tearing through the zombie’s skull. It dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
Miles glanced at his experience bar—it had jumped by 50%.
Grinning, he dove into the frenzy, picking off mutants one by one with precise, economical shots. Civilians and soldiers provided easy distractions for the monsters, allowing him to safely farm from the shadows.
In a fan-shaped spread below his window, dozens of mutated corpses piled up as he kept shooting relentlessly.
The army quickly noticed his efficiency. A squad was dispatched to investigate—but by the time they arrived, Miles had already moved.
He checked his interface again, heart pounding with excitement.
Miles – Apprentice Demon Hunter, LV9.
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Experience: 64%
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Strength: 2.3
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Agility: 4.5
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Constitution: 3.2
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Spirit: 2.8
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Unassigned Points: 5
He poured points into Agility until it hit 6.5—only to get a system warning: Agility cannot exceed twice your Constitution.
Grumbling, he adjusted—adding two points to Constitution and one to Strength.
Now:
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Strength: 3.3
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Agility: 6.5
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Constitution: 5.2
The boost was immediate. His body felt lighter, faster. He sprinted, a blur among the chaos, moving 6.5 times faster than a normal man.
Within seconds, he reached the rooftop. The pursuing soldiers were still struggling up the stairwell.
Miles smiled, flicked his wrist, and fired a steel wire across the street, anchoring it into the wall of a six-story building over a hundred meters away. He zipped across the gap like a shadow, unloading another clip into the horde below mid-swing.
Landing smoothly on the rooftop, he reloaded, savoring the high-speed carnage. Each bullet meant more experience. More power.
Behind him, the bewildered soldiers stared across the gap, realizing they had no hope of catching him.
Miles merely grinned, raising his rifle once more.
This slaughterhouse was his playground now.