The iron gate at the ground entrance buzzed under the assault of ultrasonic waves, flakes of rust peeling away layer by layer, as if even the metal itself was trying to flee from that bone-piercing shriek.
Chen Mo was the first to charge up the stairs, gripping a fire axe whose blade was already nicked and dulled, yet he held it as if it were his last lifeline. Su Xiaoxiao followed with the ultrasonic generator strapped to her back, breathing hard; the shoulder straps bit into her skin, leaving bloody welts.
At the top of the stairs, sunlight blazed.
They were almost shoved into it—its stinging warmth driving away the damp stench of the underground. But what came next was another sight that stole the breath from their lungs.
The entire city seemed washed in a gray-white filter. In places the sun could not reach, shadows thickened like black vines, slowly writhing from the cracks in buildings, from behind billboards, even from the snarled loops of overhead cables.
The ruined span of the river-crossing bridge glared pale under the sun, its pillar reflections twisted into grotesque shapes—shadows that didn't match their owners. Some were taller than the objects that cast them. Some… had no owners at all.
"Do you smell that?" Su Xiaoxiao covered her nose.
The wind off the river carried a faint sweetness laced with rot—Chen Mo knew it well. It was the scent left when shadow-slaves died and their black fluid evaporated; more unnerving than the stench of corpses.
"Quick. Find higher ground."
He pointed to the municipal building in the distance—the tallest in the city. Its rooftop antenna might still pick up an external signal.
They cut through an abandoned commercial street, passing a row of shattered glass shopfronts. Sunlight leaked through the cracks, striping the floor, where a row of old sofas sat in perfect alignment. On each sofa sat a shriveled corpse, eyes wide, lips curved upward, as though patiently waiting for their audience to arrive.
Su Xiaoxiao wrenched her gaze away—only to see an old billboard reading:
Sunlight is the best disinfectant — East City Biological Research Institute
In that moment, she nearly hurled the lamp in her hand to the ground.
At the corner, a sharp clink.
A glass bottle rolled to a stop at their feet, liquid inside glimmering gold—exactly like the solution they had once used to purify shadows.
"Don't pick it up!" Chen Mo's growl cut the air, his eyes behind the gas mask cold as steel. "Too obvious—it's bait."
Sure enough, a tall, thin man emerged from the shadows at the end of the alley, clad in a white hazmat suit. Behind his protective goggles, his eyes were as sharp as blades. He slowly raised his hands, a professional smile curling his lips.
"Don't misunderstand—I'm Professor Wang," he said gently, as if beginning a dull lecture. "The primal substance you recovered proves you are immune. Now, hand over the remaining liquid."
Chen Mo's laugh was low and bitter. "So you're still alive."
"Alive? No… I'm evolving."
At the edge of the sunlight, Wang's shadow trembled—not human-shaped, but a cluster of low, coiled tendrils, like a sea anemone poised to snare prey.
Su Xiaoxiao's hand slipped quietly into the med pack, fingers brushing the spare UV flashlight.
"Professor, your research turned this whole city into a graveyard."
"This is the inevitable cost of civilization." Wang tilted his head slightly. "You think humanity survived this long on compassion? No—it was adaptation. I'm merely accelerating the process."
Before he finished speaking, his shadow lashed out, tendrils shooting through a patch of darkness toward Chen Mo's ankles. Chen swung his axe, and black mist sprayed into the air; sunlight seared it with a sharp sizzle.
Su Xiaoxiao snapped on the flashlight, its beam striking Wang's shadow, revealing a swarm of tiny writhing creatures—each one like a miniature shadow-slave, jaws gnashing at the air.
"The primal substance is inside me—" Wang crouched, hands to the ground, his back hunching. "Kill me, and you'll lose your only chance at a cure."
"Then we'll kill your shadow first."
Chen Mo's voice fell heavy as an iron hammer. UV light and ultrasonic waves struck in unison; Wang's shadow whipped and tore like a flag in a storm, writhing across the pavement before shrinking into a charred smear.
Wang collapsed in the sunlight, his skin cracking rapidly. From the fissures seeped not blood, but a pale golden liquid—identical to the bait in the bottle.
Su Xiaoxiao carefully collected it in a sterilized vial, her voice trembling. "This… this might be the real cure."
A deep rumble rolled from the distance.
Chen Mo looked up—toward the ruined bridge. The shadows there were surging into the city like a rising tide, while overhead the sunlight was being devoured by a fast-spreading blanket of cloud.
"Shadows fear the light," Su Xiaoxiao whispered. "If night falls completely—"
"We won't last a minute." Chen Mo hefted the generator onto his back, teeth clenched. "Move! To the municipal building. We send the cure's signal out. Even if there's only an hour of daylight left, the world will know what happened here."
The clouds closed in like a heavy curtain, swallowing the last strip of sky.
They ran toward the high-rise, their own shadows stretching and twisting across the darkening ground—at the very end of which, a faint golden spark quietly began to burn.