June 11th — Miles’ first day at the quarantine facility.

  After undergoing the routine daily health inspection, Miles found his way to the rooftop of the isolation building, seeking a vantage point to observe his surroundings. From here, he could see the full expanse of the Chicago United Military Medical Center. It was sprawling—over thirty separate structures, with seven main buildings forming the heart of the hospital complex. The facility was divided into a new sector and an older section, with a lush garden serving as a buffer between the two.

  Beyond the rooftop’s railing, soldiers patrolled like tireless ants, their rifles slung and movements precise. Medical staff hurried between buildings, their faces masked, their hands busy. It was a tightly wound, high-tension environment.

  Miles leaned casually against the railing, his dark eyes scanning the layout below. A wry smile tugged at his lips.

  “No wonder they call this the Chicago First Military Medical Center,” he muttered. “It’s bigger than my entire university campus.”

  A low voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “You’re not just here to destroy evidence, are you?”

  Miles turned to see Victor approaching from behind, his gaze also directed at the bustling ground below.

  Victor’s expression was calm, but his voice carried a sharp edge.

  “That 'Genesis' serum you're after—it’s not of much use to your people, is it? If it was that critical, they wouldn’t have sent you alone. No matter how capable you are.”

  Miles chuckled, brushing some dust from his sleeve.

  “Oh? Then why do you think I’m here?”

  Victor shrugged slightly, his keen eyes never leaving Miles.

  “I don’t know yet. But you’re not like Ronan. His eyes only see profit. Yours...” Victor paused, studying him. “There’s something else there. Mystery. A secret you’re hiding. In my years doing business, I’ve learned to read people—and you, my friend, are not easy to read.”

  Miles only smiled in response, neither confirming nor denying Victor’s suspicion. The two men stood in silence, watching the orderly chaos below.

  That night, while most of the facility slumbered, Miles lay atop the rooftop, staring up at the stars littered across the dark velvet sky. This rooftop was the only place devoid of guards, making it the perfect place for what he planned next.

  Around ten o'clock, as the guards began their shift rotation, Miles quietly extended his right arm. A thread-thin, steel wire shot from his wrist device, embedding into the wall of a nearby building like a spider’s silk anchoring to prey. In an instant, he zipped across the open gap, silent as a shadow.

  Landing soundlessly on the neighboring rooftop, he crouched low, his black clothing blending into the night. He observed the area; the building was heavily guarded, no surprise—it housed the research labs working on the virus.

  Earlier that day, he had seen Tobias entering and leaving this building multiple times. It confirmed his target.

  Miles slipped inside through a maintenance door he had previously noted was faulty. Moving like a ghost through the hallways, he reached a staff quarters area. There, a door with a nameplate reading "Dr. Chen" caught his attention.

  Perfect.

  Without hesitation, he drew the Greed Blade—a sleek, almost ethereal weapon that shimmered faintly under the fluorescent light—and carefully sliced through the door lock. Inside, the doctor lay sprawled on his bed, snoring obliviously.

  Miles moved with surgical precision, lifting the man's lab coat and ID badge. Within minutes, he was out, donning the stolen uniform and fitting a medical mask over his face.

  He walked the halls as if he belonged, heading straight for the eleventh floor—where the administrators and high-ranking researchers stayed.

  The eleventh floor was silent, dimly lit. Each door bore a nameplate identifying its occupant. Miles' eyes sharpened as he located the door labeled "Tobias."

  Unlocked.

  He slipped inside. The room was spartan: a small bed, a desk stacked with research papers, and an adjoining bathroom. Nothing extravagant.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Miles sank into a chair and waited, listening to the ticking of a wall clock. Hours dragged by until, at last, around 2 AM, the doorknob twisted.

  Tobias entered, clearly exhausted, his shoulders slumped. He locked the door behind him, hung his lab coat neatly, and turned to head for the bathroom—only to freeze mid-step when he spotted the masked intruder sitting calmly in the dark.

  “Who the hell are you?” Tobias barked, his voice cracking slightly. Fear flickered in his eyes. “There are soldiers everywhere! You won't get out alive if you try anything.”

  Miles didn’t move. His voice was low, almost friendly.

  “Tobias, Tobias... Why so scared? I can hear the panic in your voice. Tell me... what dirty secrets are you hiding?”

  Tobias clenched his fists.

  “Bullshit! If you have nothing important to say, leave. I’m exhausted.”

  The fact that Tobias didn’t immediately call for security confirmed Miles’ suspicions. He had something to hide.

  Miles leaned back, letting his words sink in.

  “I’m here for the Genesis serum. Hand it over, and you walk away unharmed.”

  Tobias’ face twisted into a sneer.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Leave, or I’ll scream for the guards!”

  Unbothered, Miles pulled a small vial from his coat pocket. The liquid inside shimmered a deep, almost otherworldly purple.

  “This,” he said, holding it up, “is God's Gift. A refined version of the Genesis serum. Far more potent. If you cooperate, you stay head of this lab. If not...” Miles’ voice grew colder, “...you'll be the first test subject.”

  He smiled thinly.

  “Did I mention? It compels mutants to seek out and consume anyone genetically similar to their former self... before evolving further. You wouldn’t survive long.”

  Tobias’ bravado cracked. His eyes glued to the vial, an unmistakable hunger flickering there.

  “If you have something better, why do you still want Genesis?” Tobias asked, voice shaky but curious. “How do I know you're telling the truth?”

  Miles answered by revealing the Greed Blade again, letting the blade hum with dark energy in the dim room.

  “The virus we're dealing with is evolving faster than you realize. Crawlers, tongue-lashers, boomers... even corpse mothers that birth new undead from corpses. And above all—kings among monsters. We can't let the Genesis serum fall into the wrong hands.”

  Tobias hesitated, his mind racing. He was cornered.

  “Alright... you want Genesis? I want God's Gift in exchange.”

  Miles’ smile deepened, cold and knowing.

  “Greed will be your downfall, Tobias. Victor misjudged you. And now, I’m changing the terms.”

  Without warning, Miles flicked the vial into the air as if about to smash it.

  Tobias panicked, throwing up his hands.

  “Wait! Let’s talk! Such a serum is too precious to waste! I can help! I can join your organization—I swear loyalty!”

  Miles lowered his hand slightly.

  “Show me your sincerity.”

  Tobias, sweating profusely, stumbled toward the bathroom. He knelt by the toilet, pulled out a hidden compartment, and retrieved a small blue vial—Genesis.

  He handed it over with shaking hands.

  “There! See? I’m sincere!”

  Miles inspected the vial, his expression unreadable.

  “You hid it under a toilet. Classy.”

  He pocketed the serum.

  “You really were planning to sell it, weren't you?” Miles said lightly, then without warning, punched Tobias hard in the gut. The man collapsed, gasping and coughing violently.

  “You're lucky,” Miles murmured. “A weaker man would be dead.”

  Tobias wiped his mouth, his face pale.

  “I admit it! I wanted to sell it! But I swear, I can still be useful—”

  Miles cut him off by uncorking the purple vial and taking a casual sip.

  “Mmm,” he said. “Grape juice. Three bucks a bottle from any corner store.”

  Tobias’ face froze in stunned horror as Miles turned on his heel and walked out.

  Miles returned the stolen lab coat and badge to Dr. Chen’s room, covering his tracks meticulously. Then, using his grappling wire, he zipped back across to the quarantine building, casually strolling past the guards like nothing had happened.

  Back in his room, he lay down on his bed, letting the system interface appear before him.

  [Quest Complete. Reward: 1000 Credits.]

  Miles smirked. He wasn’t spending these credits yet—better to save up for better gear.

  June 12th — dawn.

  Outside, the facility buzzed with activity. With the outbreak largely contained, new arrivals were forced to camp in tents around the quarantine building.

  Miles, standing by the window, noticed a figure weaving through the tents—a man in a black trench coat, wearing dark sunglasses despite the morning light. His skin was unnaturally pale, his movements... off.

  Even from three floors up, Miles felt a chill down his spine.

  The Devourer, he thought grimly.

  In the game, Devourers were players who consumed the genetic cores of monsters, evolving themselves into terrifying hybrids—part human, part beast.

  Miles’ mind raced. If he had received the Game System, it made sense others had received powers too.

  Just then, a scream ripped through the morning air, followed by a hail of gunfire.

  Miles’ eyes sharpened.

  So it begins.

  As he reached for the door, a thick, glistening tentacle whipped down the hallway outside, eviscerating two guards in a heartbeat. Blood splattered the walls.

  Miles froze, breath caught in his throat.

  Out the window, the black-coated man smiled up at him—an eerie, predatory grin—before vanishing into thin air.

  A cold sweat drenched Miles’ back. He realized the man’s plan: unleash chaos, infect the survivors, let them mutate, then harvest the evolved for their genes.

  Miles' hand tightened on the doorknob.

  I need to move. Now.

  Charging through the halls, he reached the main lobby. The sight that greeted him stopped him cold—corpses everywhere, blood pooling on the tiles, screams echoing in the distance.

  The soldiers had been wiped out.

  Outside, chaos reigned as the quarantined civilians scattered in terror.

  The Devourer had turned the battlefield into a feeding ground.

  And Miles knew: if he didn’t act fast, this facility would become hell on Earth