The sky was a bruised red when they emerged from Hollow Ridge.
Not from the sunset.
The sun had long lost its warmth in this part of the world. The clouds above were smeared with soot, ash, and something denser—like the atmosphere itself had rotted. As if the world was still grieving for whatever had died in Hollow Ridge.
Li Wei didn't speak. He walked at the front, boots crunching dead leaves, his eyes narrow as slits, tracking every distant movement. Rui was in the middle, unusually quiet, holding onto a cloth-wrapped satchel they'd taken from the lab. Chen Yu trailed behind, limping slightly, muttering curses under his breath and occasionally cracking himself up.
"That's it. No more bunkers. No more underground nightmares. If we ever go into another lab, someone better pay me—preferably in canned peaches," Chen Yu said, kicking a skull out of his path.
No one responded. The silence wasn't agreement. It was exhaustion.
The hills beyond Hollow Ridge were overgrown, but not in a way that felt natural. Vines pulsed faintly, twisting like they had veins. Birds flew in erratic spirals, screaming with humanlike shrieks. Even the wind smelled different now—thicker, coppery, and laced with something acidic.
They had escaped Hollow Ridge.
But they hadn't escaped what it had done to the world.
Days Later
They found shelter in a roadside diner partially swallowed by the forest. Faded red stools. Mold crawling up the walls. A menu still nailed to the board with pictures of food no one would ever taste again.
Rui sat cross-legged on the counter, studying the map they'd recovered from Hollow Ridge. Her face was pinched in thought, but her eyes were distant—like something in her brain was still processing the symbols burned into her childhood.
Chen Yu raided the kitchen and found a sealed can of pineapple slices. He howled with laughter, holding it up like a holy relic. "It's real. It's mine. If I die tomorrow, bury me with it."
Li Wei didn't look up from where he sat in the corner, sharpening a blade with slow, methodical strokes.
Then the quiet broke.
From outside came a sound like… chewing.
Rui froze.
Li Wei stood immediately.
Chen Yu dropped the can.
He moved to the boarded window and peeled a plank aside.
Outside, in the lot where old cars rested like fossilized skeletons, a deer was eating another deer.
Not just tearing meat.
Feasting.
Its eyes glowed a soft yellow, and its antlers twitched like antennae. When it looked up, its face was… wrong. The mouth was too wide. Its tongue was split at the center, and something inside its chest bulged with every breath.
It saw them.
Then it charged.
Li Wei was already moving.
The glass exploded inward before anyone could react. The mutant deer crashed through the window like a missile, its body too fast, too heavy—its rage unnatural.
Li Wei moved instinctively, slashing with the sharpened machete. The blade connected with the creature's neck, but it didn't fall. It screamed, the sound a horrid mix of animal bray and grinding metal. Thick, dark fluid sprayed from its wound—hot, acrid, and stinking like corrosion.
Rui rolled over the counter and landed beside him. She yanked a broken chair leg from the floor and jammed it into the creature's eye with shocking force. Her expression never changed. No panic. Just precision.
Chen Yu, meanwhile, screamed like a girl—and hurled the can of pineapples.
It hit the deer's other eye.
There was a loud, wet pop.
"Bullseye!" he gasped, almost proudly, as the creature stumbled, blind, and Li Wei drove the machete into its skull with a grunt.
The body thudded onto the tile. Twitching. Still trying to move.
Rui stood over it, panting softly. "That's not a mutation. That's a… blend. It wasn't just an infected animal."
Li Wei crouched, examining the corpse. Its bones had started shifting beneath the flesh even after death. "It's not just the virus anymore. Something's… merging. Crossing lines."
"Between what?" Chen Yu asked, now pointing at the twitching thing. "Between nightmares and batshit?"
"Between the human strain and wildlife," Rui whispered. "Ghost Batch… wasn't the only thing they experimented with."
No one spoke.
Because there was more movement outside.
Hours Later
They didn't stay. They couldn't. That deer had been alone—but not for long.
By nightfall, they had seen more of them: packs of wolves with double-jointed legs; a bear that didn't bleed when shot; a raccoon with no eyes that moved like it could see everything.
None of these things belonged in the world they once knew.
Two Weeks Later
They stayed on the move, avoiding main roads, skirting ruins, stealing rest in abandoned cabins and collapsed subway tunnels. The deeper they went into the interior of the country, the worse the world became.
It wasn't just the animals.
Some zombies now moved differently. Some were faster. Some didn't rot at the same rate. A few had… coordination. Intelligence in their eyes. Packs. Traps.
And then, there were the humans.
Always the humans.
At an old mining town, they came across what looked like a survivor camp—but found crucified corpses at the gates and children chained like dogs.
They left in silence.
But not before Li Wei set fire to the entire camp.
Chen Yu didn't joke that night.
Days Later — Somewhere in the Forest
Li Wei had a nosebleed.
He'd been quiet all day—quieter than usual. When they stopped beside a creek to fill water, he stumbled, caught himself, and wiped blood from his nostril.
Rui noticed.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," he said.
"You're not. That's the third time this week."
Chen Yu leaned in. "Unless your new ability is bleeding dramatically from the face, I think something's cooking under the hood, boss."
Li Wei gave him a look. But then… a rock nearby moved without being touched.
Rui blinked.
"Did you…?"
"No," Li Wei said quickly. "I didn't do anything."
But the look in his eyes said something else.
And when they looked at Chen Yu, he was already grinning. "Alright, alright. So, who wants to bet I get laser eyes or teleportation? Personally, I'm voting for fire farts.
They didn't sleep much that night.
Rui was the first to wake at the crack of dawn, her eyes snapping open at the rustle of leaves. She was sure she had heard… whispering. Not speech. Not voices. But the low, guttural sound of intent carried on the wind.
She sat up and scanned the dark forest.
Nothing.
But her gut twisted. Something watched.
She turned back to the others. Chen Yu was drooling into his jacket sleeve. Li Wei sat across the small fire, not asleep at all—just staring into the flames, eyes glassy, pale. He was shivering, but not from cold.
"Did you sleep?" Rui asked.
"No," he muttered.
She moved closer. "Headache?"
"Worse."
She sat beside him. "Still hearing things?"
He didn't answer.
But then he whispered, "I saw a man die. In a city I've never been to. I smelled the fire. I heard his scream. I was inside his skull."
Rui stared at him. "A dream?"
Li Wei looked at her. "It wasn't mine."
He stood abruptly, blood leaking from one nostril again. Chen Yu stirred.
"Did I miss something cool?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Wait—nosebleed again? Bro, at this rate, we'll need to start charging for your brain's performance."
Li Wei didn't smile. "We move. Now.
Rui didn't laugh.
Later That Day — An Abandoned Highway
The landscape was a graveyard of metal and moss. Cars rusted into the earth, tree roots snaking through engines. Birds flew strangely—silent, coordinated. Like scouts.
The trio moved fast and low. Rui walked point, scanning for tripwires, landmines, signs of cults or raider traps. Chen Yu scavenged along the way, stuffing his bag with wires, tools, batteries, and one questionable can of "cooked hedgehog" that he swore was going to be their miracle food.
They stopped at a smashed convenience store to rest.
That's when Chen Yu collapsed.
Not dramatically. Not in pain.
He simply crumpled like a puppet whose strings were cut.
"Chen!" Rui rushed to him.
Li Wei caught his arm, helped ease him down.
Chen Yu blinked rapidly, pupils dilated. His mouth twitched like he wanted to say something but couldn't. Then his body jerked, arched off the ground—twice—and slumped again.
Then…
He sat up.
And said, with a huge, insane grin: "I just saw the back of my head."
Rui recoiled slightly.
Li Wei narrowed his eyes.
Chen Yu laughed like a man on drugs. "No, no, no, I'm serious! I left my body! I was floating! Like some ghost ninja—bro, I was OUT. Like astral projection, but without the incense or chakras or those annoying Instagram witches."
"You're not joking?" Rui asked cautiously.
Chen Yu poked himself in the chest. "I'm serious. I think I'm evolving too. But my mutation? It's gonna be cool. Something flashy. I'm calling it… Operation Mind-Jump."
Li Wei didn't speak.
Because deep down, he'd felt it too.
His thoughts were louder. Sometimes not even his. The world around him had started responding to his emotions. When angry, static buzzed in the air. When afraid, shadows seemed to linger longer.
The virus hadn't killed them.
It was using them.
"I think we're changing," Rui whispered. Her voice was quiet, almost frightened. "Not infected. But not… normal either."
"We've already seen what happened to the others," Li Wei said. "The ones who changed and went mad. Turned into monsters. Some kept their minds. Some didn't."
Chen Yu sipped from a rusted can of soda. "So what? We just wait and see which one we turn into? Team sanity or Team tentacle?"
"No," Li Wei said flatly. "We figure out what's causing it. Whether it's the blood rain, the virus, or… the Ghost Batch."
"Or Ascendancy," Rui added. "This mutation started somewhere."
They stared into the fire.
Then Chen Yu stood and stretched. "Well, until we find that truth… can we agree on something?"
"What?" Rui asked.
"That I get the coolest name if I end up as a superhero."
Li Wei scoffed.
Rui rolled her eyes.
But no one argued.
Because it was easier than facing the truth.
They weren't running anymore.
They were becoming.
And something out there… was watching them grow.