Lin Kai's gaze swept the room, his violet eyes sharpening as recognition struck like a cold blade.
There, in the far corner, was Mr. Liang, his former history teacher, the man who'd once paced the classroom with animated tales of ancient dynasties, his voice booming with passion.
Now, Mr. Liang sat slumped against a peeling wall, his salt-and-pepper hair disheveled, his once-vibrant eyes dulled to a vacant stare, a crumpled textbook clutched in his lap like a talisman against the madness.
Nearby, huddled with a group of wide-eyed freshmen, was Mei Ling, a classmate from his second year, her straight black hair matted and her freckled face smeared with grime.
She'd been the class artist, always doodling fantastical creatures in the margins of her notes, but now her hands trembled as she traced meaningless patterns in the dust, her lips moving in silent, incoherent mutterings.
The grimace that twisted Lin Kai's features was involuntary, a raw contraction of pain that had nothing to do with his wounds. These were my people, he thought, his mind reeling with a torrent of memories—the laughter during lunch breaks, the collective groan at surprise quizzes, the shared excitement over sports victories.
Now, they were shells, their potential snuffed by fear, their spirits fractured by the unrelenting horror outside. He forced his expression to smooth, but inwardly, a storm raged: How many more have we lost? How did it come to this?
The weight of his absence from the school during the initial onslaught pressed on him like a physical burden, a silent accusation that he should have been here, blades drawn, to shield them from the first wave.
He glanced at the others, assessing the whole situation with a clinical detachment honed by survival. The hall was a labyrinth of makeshift divisions—curtains torn from classrooms draped as partitions, creating illusory privacy for the most vulnerable.
A few candles sputtered on upturned desks, their flames casting erratic shadows that danced like mocking specters, while a faded school bell hung crookedly from the ceiling, its once-clear tone now silent, a relic of mornings filled with routine and normalcy.
The floor was littered with discarded wrappers from scavenged snacks, a testament to their dwindling rations, and a low hum emanated from the walls, a subtle vibration that seemed to pulse with the room's collective anxiety.
Some survivors rocked gently, their eyes unfocused, lost in loops of trauma, while others whispered encouragements to one another, their voices fragile threads holding the group together.
Lin Kai leaned toward Jiag Yu, his voice a quiet murmur that cut through the oppressive hush. "It's a tight spot, Senior. I don't know how to pull them out of this fog—I can only forge strength in those who have the will, like my people did."
His words carried a raw honesty, a confession of his own limitations, the weight of command pressing on his young shoulders.
Inwardly, he wrestled with doubt: What if my words fall flat? What if I can't reach them in time? The thought gnawed at him, a fear of failure that echoed his past life's regrets, but he shoved it down, focusing on the present.
Jiag Yu sighed, a heavy, weary sound that seemed to draw from deep within, his axe resting against his leg like an old companion. "I've tried everything—stories of hope, demonstrations of power, even sharing my own fears to make them feel less alone. But it's like talking to echoes; they hear, but it doesn't stick."
His eyes, shadowed by the weight of leadership thrust upon him too young, met Lin Kai's with a shared understanding.
He's carrying this alone, Jiag Yu thought, a pang of envy mixing with admiration for Lin Kai's group. "They're stuck in that first day's terror, replaying the screams, the changes. I envy your crew—they've got that spark."
Han Zhe and Jiang Lie, veterans of corporate boardrooms where words were weapons and alliances fragile, observed the scene with silent precision.
Han Zhe's broad frame tensed, his machete hand twitching as he cataloged the crowd's body language—the slumped postures, the averted eyes, the subtle tremors.
They're broken, not defeated, he mused, his mind calculating angles like a deal gone south. A push, not a pull—that's what they need.
Jiang Lie, her gaze softer but no less sharp, noted the clusters of vulnerability—the mothers shielding children, the teachers whispering futile reassurances. Fear's their chain, she reflected, her healer's instinct urging her to mend what words could. Break it with a spark of action.
Han Zhe approached Lin Kai and Jiag Yu, his steps measured, exuding the quiet authority of a man who'd navigated crises before. "I can try to lift their spirits," he said, his voice low but resonant.
He signaled to a woman in the group, Yan, who held a pistol with steady hands, her face set with the resolve of someone who'd stared down her own demons.
"Shoot in random directions—front of the crowd, high," he instructed quietly. Yan nodded, her finger curling around the trigger.
The shots rang out—sharp cracks echoing off the walls, bullets whizzing harmlessly into the ceiling and floor.
The crowd erupted in chaos, screams piercing the air as bodies hit the ground, some crawling for cover, others freezing in place, their faces contorted in raw panic.
The hall descended into pandemonium, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and desperate cries, the candles flickering wildly as if feeding on the frenzy.
Han Zhe stepped forward, his presence a slow, deliberate force amid the storm, each step echoing like a drumbeat. As he reached the front, he released his Zero Order (High) aura—a palpable wave of pressure that rippled outward, suppressing the chaos like a heavy fog rolling in.
The screams tapered to whimpers, the movements slowing as the aura pressed down, a invisible hand calming the frenzy.
Jiag Yu tensed, his axe hand twitching, ready to intervene, but Lin Kai placed a steadying hand on his arm, offering a reassuring nod. Trust him, Lin Kai conveyed silently, his eyes firm. He knows how to turn fear into fuel.
Han Zhe's voice boomed, cutting through the lingering tremors. "You cowered from mere bullets—isn't that pathetic? There are horrors beyond your nightmares that Jiag Yu and his team shielded you from, day after day."
His words landed like stones in still water, ripples of discomfort spreading through the crowd. A few voices rose in protest, a young teacher with disheveled hair shouting, "We're weak—what can we do? This isn't a game!"
Han Zhe's eyes narrowed, his aura flaring subtly, a pressure that made hearts skip. "Weakness is a sin when you have a chance to be powerful. You all heard that ancient voice in your head at the calamity's dawn, right?"
Murmurs of affirmation rippled through the hall, heads nodding hesitantly. "That's the Primal Decree. Focus on your mind—you'll see a mental interface, showing your body's condition and strength."
Confusion etched the crowd's faces as some closed their eyes, brow furrowing in concentration. A student gasped, "I see it—numbers, like a game!" Others followed, whispers building to a low hum of bewilderment.
Han Zhe, drawing from Lin Kai's earlier explanations to him and Jiang Lie, continued, "The vitality is your health, Order your power level, Aether the energy that corrupts the weak. You didn't transform because you can harness it—turn it into strength. The Decree isn't a curse; it's evolution's call. Ignore it, and you perish; embrace it, and you thrive."
The smart ones—teachers with analytical minds, students who'd always questioned—leaned forward, confirming suspicions they'd harbored in silence.
"It's like a system," a professor muttered, his voice laced with awe. "We're all players now." The crowd shifted, the fog of fear thinning as understanding dawned, a few eyes lighting with tentative fire.
A hand rose from the back—a nervous girl with glasses. "What about the Rune? It's locked for me." Han Zhe's expression remained even, though inwardly he approved the girl's insight. "It's a mystery to us too—a key to greater power, waiting to unlock. When it does, can be unstoppable."
Jiang Lie stepped beside her husband, her voice rising like a steady flame. "We know you're terrified, hopeless in this nightmare. But it's unchangeable—we adapt or fade. We were like you once, frozen in fear, but understanding pulled us through. Look at the group behind me—they started as you are but now stand ready. Half awakened by facing the corrupted, turning dread into defiance."
A murmur questioned the guns, a teacher piping up, "What about those? Can't they save us?" Jiang Lie's gaze hardened, recounting the prisoner encounter with stark precision—their cold eyes, the demand for "cores," the hail of bullets that tested their mettle. The crowd gulped, the tale painting a vivid horror, faces paling at the human monsters beyond the walls.
Jiang Lie pressed on, her words a rallying cry. "Don't you yearn to see your families, your loved ones? They might be out there, fighting like us—hold that faith. It's the spark that ignites change. We'll guide you to strength, but if you remain burdens, dragging us down, we'll have to part ways. Seize this chance—regret nothing."
Protests bubbled—a defiant shout here, a tearful plea there—but the couple's silent glare quelled them, a wall of unyielding resolve.
Some, the braver souls, straightened, confidence flickering like embers. The air shifted, a subtle current of possibility threading through the hall.
Lin Kai, observing from the side, felt a smile tug at his lips, a quiet pride swelling. As expected from Uncle Han and Aunt Jiang, he thought, their corporate savvy turning chaos into order.
I have much to learn from them—reading the room, wielding words like weapons. The scene unfolded with a rhythm he admired, a dance of motivation he'd replicate in time.
Lin Kai leaned close to Jiag Yu, his voice a hushed murmur barely audible over the hum. "Senior, this is our moment—give them a final push with your words. Assure them, rally their spirits one last time." His tone carried a quiet urgency, a flicker of hope beneath his grim facade.
Jiag Yu nodded, stepping forward with a deep breath, his voice rising firm yet tender, "My friends, see—we have allies now, ready to lift us up. I'm tired of bearing this alone; I need your strength. Seize this chance to find your families, to live without regret—join us!"
The couple and Jiag Yu seized the momentum, distributing food—canned vegetables, rice packets, dried meats—from their scavenged haul.
"Eat," Jiag Yu urged, his voice warm. "Energy for what's ahead." The crowd surged forward, hands reaching with renewed vigor, the sight of shared sustenance kindling a fragile camaraderie.
Plates clattered, murmurs of thanks rising as the hall filled with the simple act of nourishment, a beacon of normalcy in the abyss.
Lin Kai slipped outside, the door's creak fading behind him as he strolled the perimeter, assessing the school's defenses.
The grounds were a wasteland of toppled benches and shattered glass, the once-vibrant murals on the outer walls now faded and cracked, their colors bleeding into the earth like forgotten dreams.
A distant clatter—a loose shutter banging in the wind—echoed, drawing his eye to a potential weak point. He noted barricade spots—stacked desks for the gates, reinforced chains for windows—his mind sketching plans with tactical precision.
The air hummed faintly, a vibration from the walls that seemed to sync with his pulse, a subtle anomaly he filed away for later.
He found respite under a massive tree near the field, its branches thicker and more twisted than he remembered, leaves rustling with an unnatural tenacity.
Aether's touch, he mused, running a hand over the bark, feeling a faint energy pulse. It's mutating everything—plants growing defiant, roots clawing deeper.
The thought drifted to his mother, her lessons on botany from his childhood, her voice patient as she explained photosynthesis under a similar tree.
"Life finds a way, Kai," she'd say, her silver hair catching the sun. A vow formed, fierce and unyielding: I'll find you, Mother—with the girls. We'll stand together again.
The sun climbed higher, its warmth chasing the morning chill, and Lin Kai returned inside, the hall's renewed energy a balm to his soul.
The crowd ate with purpose, conversations blooming—whispers of family, shared fears turning to tentative plans.
Jiag Yu clapped his shoulder as he passed. "You brought this spark. They're listening now." Lin Kai nodded, a quiet resolve settling. One step at a time, he thought. From shadows to strength.
---------------------------------------------------
In another part of the Shanghai City, Lin Mei navigated the labyrinthine corridors of her corporate tower, the first day of calamity a blur of calculated survival.
She had struck swiftly, sneaking through shadowed offices with a knife pilfered from a guard's desk, its blade slick with the blood of three corrupted executives.
The pistol, snatched from the same source, barked twice more, bullets embedding in twisted skulls with hollow thuds, though she noted their limited stopping power—flesh knit too quickly, the rounds more deterrent than fatal.
She kept it holstered at her waist, a cold comfort against the human threats she anticipated, her corporate instincts warning of greed-fueled ambushes in the chaos.
As a seasoned executive, she knew desires festered in crises—ambition twisting into betrayal, alliances fracturing under self-preservation.
Her mind whirred like a well-oiled machine, plotting routes through the tower's service ducts, mapping supply closets for water and protein bars.
Every kill brought a surge of vitality, a tingling rush that sharpened her senses, and after felling a handful of corrupted in the executive suites—their suits torn, ties dangling like nooses—she heard the mental chime:
"Zero Order (Mid) attained."
Thrill coursed through her, a electric jolt that made her fingers flex around the knife, but she reined it in, her breath steadying. Focus, not excitement, she chided herself inwardly. Every second is a calculation—survive, adapt, locate the girls.
The sun dipped below the skyline, plunging the tower into night's embrace, and Lin Mei foraged the storage room on her floor, discovering sealed crates of emergency rations—dehydrated meals and electrolyte packets meant for corporate retreats.
She cooked minimally on a portable stove scavenged from maintenance, the flame low to avoid the telltale smoke or aroma that could lure predators, human or otherwise.
The meager meal sustained her, a bland paste of rice and vegetables, but it fueled her thoughts: Kai's voice on the call—frantic, but strong. He's out there, adapting. She vowed to reach him, her corporate steel forging a path through the darkness.
Rested under the moonlight peeking through a high window, its silver beam slicing the room like a blade, Lin Mei's mind wandered to her son's face, his violet eyes so like her own, filled with that quiet determination.
How are you holding, my boy? she pondered, a rare tenderness softening her resolve. I'll find you—and the girls. We'll rebuild.
Next day, she'd venture to the Shanghai University campus nearby, her pistol and knife at the ready, to search for Lin Yu, Lin Ming, and Lin Ling, shielding them from the storm she knew raged beyond the tower's walls.
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Author's Note:
Dear Readers, I forgot to add our MC family's part which i will add every few chapters so that u can experience a unique perspective from both the sides and will enjoy it also that i can guarantee. If u have any ideas on my story, then please share it.