A scream, sharp and filled with anguish, tore through the air like the wail of a dying soul.
Wang Ming, crouched within the narrow rusted pipe, flinched at the sound. It echoed down the metallic tunnel and pierced straight into his bones. He didn't need to peek. He didn't need to look. He knew—knew exactly whose cry that was.
His fat, arrogant boss… Guo Lian… had met his end.
The realization struck him like a lead weight. His limbs trembled, his throat tightened, and a numbness crept across his skin like frost on glass. Even in death, that man had cried out for help.
And Wang Ming had turned his back.
He swallowed hard. His body curled tighter against the cold pipe wall, trying to shrink into the corroded metal like a rat before a storm. The acrid stench of blood and burnt insulation filled his nostrils. Fear was a living thing inside him, crawling, clawing, screaming for escape.
Damn it… Damn this world! Damn this cursed second life! Why did I have to end up here of all places? he thought, teeth clenched.
Outside the pipe, there was a wet squelch followed by slow, deliberate steps—thud, thud, thud—each one closer, heavier, and inhuman.
The Zerg was coming.
Its grotesque form of part insect, part nightmare moved with terrifying patience. It was sniffing out prey.
Wang Ming didn't move. He didn't even dare to breathe. He prayed that it would pass by, that some miracle would spare him.
But fate, it seemed, was not listening.
Suddenly, something latched onto his ankle.
His eyes widened in horror as rough, clawed fingers gripped his leg and began to drag him backward ,out of the pipe.
"No—!" he grunted, but the sound was muffled as he grabbed onto the jagged edges of the tunnel, nails scraping against rusted iron, trying desperately to hold himself in.
But the strength behind that hand… it was monstrous. The pipe groaned as his body scraped against it, and in a final jerk, he was ripped from the hiding space like a loose bolt from machinery.
He tumbled out and landed hard on the cold steel floor.
His gaze shot upward—and he froze.
The Zerg was looming above him.
A towering behemoth cloaked in darkness, its head was a horror of nature's fury twisting mandibles, twitching purple-black tentacles writhing out of its sides, and a massive tongue slithering from its mouth, coiled and slick with thick saliva. Its red eyes glowed with a cruel intelligence, and its grotesque maw dripped with blood—likely that of Guo Lian.
Wang Ming's body screamed at him to run, to fight, to scream—anything.
Is this it…? he thought, despair welling inside him like a rising tide. Is this really how it ends? My second life, snuffed out like a matchstick… eaten alive like some insect?
"No!" The word exploded in his mind.
His hand darted to the side, grabbing a metal rod lying among scattered tools on the floor. He lunged upward, swinging it with all his might toward the Zerg's face.
CLANG!
The rod collided with the beast's head but it barely flinched. The blow was nothing to it. A second later, one of its arms swatted the rod out of his hands, shattering it like brittle glass.
Wang Ming stumbled back, eyes wide.
The creature let out a guttural snarl and reared its head. Its maw opened wide—revealing layers of serrated teeth, all heading for him.
He froze. His breath caught in his chest. His body refused to move.
Instinctively, his eyes closed, waiting for the pain, for the end.
One second…
Two seconds…
But instead of death, what greeted him was the sound of…
water.
Like a river flowing gently in the background.
And then… stillness.
Wang Ming opened his eyes.
The Zerg… was gone.
Instead, he found himself half-submerged in cool, rippling water, his back resting against a shallow current. The biting cold stung his skin, shocking his senses back to awareness.
He gasped, looking around, heart pounding wildly.
He was lying in the center of a lake, surrounded by mist that hung low over the surface like a spectral veil. The water reached just below his shoulders, calm and mirror-like, disturbed only by his presence.
The sky above was a pale lavender, starless and infinite. It felt unnatural—like the air itself hummed with something ancient.
"Where... am I?" he muttered aloud, voice echoing faintly as if the space around him weren't quite real.
He slowly rose to his feet, the water parting around him with soft ripples. His eyes scanned the mist ahead and froze.
Floating directly in front of him, perhaps twenty meters away, was a door.
It stood tall and silent, suspended above the water without foundation or frame. Ornate carvings covered its surface ancient runes glowing faintly in silver and obsidian ink. The wood was deep violet, as if painted with the essence of dusk itself. At its center pulsed a small, quartz-like crystal, emitting a soft hum and a heartbeat of purple light that beat in rhythm with Wang Ming's own.
Around him, suspended in the air like drifting fireflies, floated dozens—no, hundreds—of glowing purple motes. They swirled gently in the air, dancing silently, like echoes of forgotten memories or fragmented souls.
Wang Ming's body trembled—not from cold, but from something deeper.
A pull.
A calling.
The air around him was no longer just air. It was saturated with something... potent. Something that made his blood race and his limbs ache with anticipation.
"This… this isn't a dream," he whispered.
He took one hesitant step toward the door, water splashing softly at his feet.
Then another.
His breathing slowed. His fear didn't vanish—it simply became quiet. Quiet, like the lake. Like the endless space beyond it.
Whatever lay beyond that door… it was waiting.
And something told Wang Ming that from the moment he touched it...his fate would change forever.