Seawater slid off the armor's pauldrons like thick, viscous tears.
On the other side of the ocean.
Relying on the extreme speed granted by his reality-warping abilities, Adam crossed the entire Pacific in a short time and stepped firmly onto the continent. As he set foot on the land, ash was falling from the sky.
No, it wasn't just ash.
He looked up through the sensor lenses of the armor. On the distant horizon, a city was burning. Thick smoke was torn into a massive black curtain by high-altitude currents, obscuring half the sky. The ash drifted down from there, mixed with finer, indescribable particles.
Adam didn't think about what that ash might be.
He moved forward. The heavy feet of the Hunting Rig stepped onto the shattered asphalt, leaving deep indentations with every stride. The remains of surrounding buildings stood silent in the gloom; some were still burning, the flames reflecting twisted silhouettes. Vehicles lay strewn across the streets, some flattened as if stepped on by a giant beast.
Further away, something was wriggling.
Adam glanced at it. It was a mass of distorted flesh devouring a corpse. Sensing the light from the searchlight, it looked up, revealing a dozen mouths splitting open simultaneously to let out a silent screech.
Then, it was erased directly by reality-warping power.
Adam did not stop. "It really is a mess here," he said quietly, his voice echoing inside the armor.
Inferior Cawl hovered by his side, its crimson mechanical eye rotating constantly to scan the surroundings. A faint hum came from within the mechanical skull—it was attempting to access the network.
"Interesting," Cawl spoke. "Civilian networks are completely paralyzed, but military frequencies and some encrypted channels are still operational. There's nothing substantial, though—mostly a chaotic mess of distress signals and meaningless military jargon. However..." He paused. "I've detected a specific network functioning. Some organizations are trying to contact each other. I've sent the intelligence they mentioned to you."
Adam skimmed the public information. It was largely as he expected.
The Foundation's offensive was as fast as lightning.
The sound of the "Bell-man" echoed across the world, and many heads of state perished under the assassinations of an elusive entity. The great flood raised by the "Leviathan" submerged the majority of the world's coastal towns and ports, and national navies suffered devastating blows. The flesh-virus spread in key cities, with countless transformed monsters wandering the ruins. Photos of the "Shy Guy" were uploaded to social media, sweeping the globe in a short time, with casualty figures rising as the well-known anomaly moved.
Foundation Mobile Task Forces were spread across the globe, launching indiscriminate attacks on all targets within their sight.
Adam continued to move forward. He passed through a burning neighborhood, fought through a street occupied by flesh monsters, and passed a military checkpoint that had been bombed into rubble. The number of corpses along the way increased—some in military uniform, some in civilian clothes, some no longer distinguishable as human or beast. Their postures were varied: some still trying to crawl, some curled in a ball, some dying while biting one another.
Adam felt nothing toward the corpses; he never had. Whether in the past or the future, he could not feel fear toward things that had lost their life.
But—
When he thought about how the consciousness of these deceased had not dissipated, but was instead desperately enduring endless pain that would last for eternity, he couldn't help but feel a chill.
"Disgusting," Adam spat the word out quietly.
This was a sharp critique shared by an anomaly and a researcher within the Foundation after learning the truth of this eternal pain. The bodies of the dead turned into fragments scattered in every corner of the world, yet their will existed eternally. After death, there was no heaven, no hell, only ceasing torment on an eternal time scale. Thinking of this, Adam felt even this word was too thin, as if he needed a more aggressive term to describe this ultimate absurdity and cruelty.
Adam closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them. He continued toward his destination as a low rumble like thunder came from the distance.
It was the sound of artillery.
Adam moved through a collapsed building, and his field of vision suddenly opened up. It was an open space—perhaps once a plaza or a park—now completely unrecognizable. Craters pockmarked the ground, some still emitting faint smoke. Shattered armored vehicles were scattered about, some still burning, their light reflecting off the surrounding ruins.
Adam's gaze swept over the battlefield. On one side were corpses in black uniforms with familiar markings. Adam recognized the style.
Foundation Mobile Task Force.
The other side was much more complex. There were those in strange costumes, some in combat gear, and a few even wearing what looked like ceremonial robes. These were the relevant organizations of this world. Under the Foundation's offensive, conventional armed forces had collapsed long ago; only organizations with a certain understanding of anomalies could barely survive the first wave and offer stubborn resistance.
Adam did not linger. He bypassed the battlefield and continued forward.
"What do you need now?" Cawl's voice rang out again, tinged with obvious confusion. "With all due respect, the situation is incredibly chaotic—a total mess. Why are we coming here?"
"I need more intelligence," Adam replied as he walked. "Only by clarifying this can I determine if my next plan is feasible. If not, I'll have to adjust in time." He paused. "And because of that, Three Portlands is an excellent location."
After some time, Adam stopped. "We're here."
He checked the auspex inside the armor and looked up to confirm the sight before him. This had once been a park. At least, judging by the remains, there should have been lawns, trees, benches, and fountains. Now there was nothing. The ground had been plowed over and over by shelling, leaving only scorched earth and jagged shrapnel. Corpses lay everywhere, some burned to charcoal, others frozen in their final moments.
Adam's gaze swept the area. There were more Foundation corpses here. This indicated that the residents of Three Portlands indeed had some skill.
"The entrance is here?" Cawl's voice carried a hint of doubt.
Adam did not answer. He raised his arm, and the mechanical power claw extended. Reality-warping power surged from within him, tearing an invisible rift in the air. The scene before him began to twist, deform, and peel away like a shredded canvas, revealing what was hidden behind.
Three Portlands.
One of the most classic anomalous cities in the Foundation system—in a sense, the "Night City" of the anomalous world. It was encased in a pocket dimension, inhabited by a large number of anomalous residents: thaumaturges, anomalous artists, psychics, reality warpers... almost everyone possessed a unique skill for dealing with the anomalous.
Undoubtedly, the task force capable of attacking this city would be the elite of the elite, and they would certainly possess the intelligence Adam wanted.
Adam stepped into the rift. In the next second, the scene before him transformed completely.