CHAPTER 552: SECOND SCENARIO

The search was methodical. They don’t want to waste time.

Clyde moved with deliberate steps to scan every corner and every pile of debris.

The living room gave him nothing but the stench of mildew and the remnants of a life violently cut short.

He saw broken mugs, a smashed clock, and papers that had rotted into unreadable mush lay scattered.

In the kitchen Mina was rifling through cabinets, most of them empty.

She found cans of food but most were dented and swollen and were long past edible.

Her attention shifted when she noticed a section of the floor that sounded hollow under her boot.

"Clyde!" she called, her voice low but urgent.

He appeared in the doorway almost instantly.

She tapped the spot with the toe of her boot again. It sounded hollow.

Clyde knelt down and brushed away broken tiles to reveal a metal ring embedded in the wood.

He pulled it with ease with one hand and the hidden hatch groaned open, exhaling a breath of stale cold air from below.

A narrow set of stairs descended into darkness.

Clyde went first with his spear in hand, each step was calm and quick as if he didn’t have any worry at all.

Mina followed with her two daggers drawn.

The smell changed as they reached the bottom. It became less rot, more dust and oil.

Light appeared when Clyde turned on the switch revealing racks along the walls.

They were guns. Dozens of them. Shotguns, rifles, pistols, all neatly arranged.

Crates of ammunition were stacked in one corner and another held tightly sealed containers of food and water.

A workbench lined with cleaning tools and spare parts suggested the owner had been prepared for this kind of apocalypse. But ironically, they were immediately slaughtered despite all of their preparations.

Mina let out a low mumble. "This could keep us going for months."

Clyde didn’t answer right away. He scanned the walls for signs of intrusion.

"It’s not just supplies," he said finally. "This is a stronghold. Whoever set this up knew exactly what they were doing. But they just not lucky enough to use it."

They packed quickly, taking what they could carry. Extra weapons slung over shoulders, ammo stuffed into pouches and backpack, food packed tightly into a duffel bag.

The rest they would hide again for later.

Back upstairs, Clyde checked the front door.

The street remained eerily silent.

Mina moved toward the back of the house, curiosity tugging at her.

The backyard was enclosed by the same tall stone wall they’d seen earlier.

Weeds had overtaken what might once have been a small garden. But her eyes froze on the far corner.

Five mounds of freshly turned earth sat in a neat row.

She called for Clyde, and he joined her.

His gaze lingering on the uneven shapes of the mounds.

"This is all... graves," Mina murmured. "Five of them."

Clyde’s jaw tightened. "This is probably the whole family."

The air felt heavier here, as if the ground itself remembered the brutal death.

Neither of them moved closer. The earth didn’t need to be disturbed.

"Let’s go," Clyde said finally, turning back toward the house. "We’ve got what we came for. The dead can stay where they are."

Mina followed, but not without one last glance at the mounds.

The silence of the backyard followed them all the way to the front door.

They stepped outside with the weapons and supplies.

They moved on through the narrow cracked streets. The wind carried the smell of blood and distant smoke.

Mina adjusted the strap of her pack, her eyes flicking to the rifles slung over Clyde’s shoulder.

"Should we... start using the guns now?" she asked, breaking the quiet.

"Not yet," Clyde replied without slowing down. "We wait until something big shows up. These aren’t for wasting on small fry."

Mina frowned slightly. "Big thing? What kind of big thing?"

He didn’t look at her. "Don’t know yet. But it’s coming."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, then she gave a small nod. "Oh."

The conversation ended there, replaced by the sound of their footsteps echoing between the empty buildings.

A faint haze had begun to gather on the horizon. The kind that came before a storm, or something worse.

Clyde kept scanning. His senses were sharp. He watched every shadow with suspicion.

Then it happened.

A sharp mechanical and cold chime rang in the air.

A red holographic panel materialized in the air before them, its text shifting into focus.

The glow cast an eerie light across their faces.

[SCENARIO UPDATE]

SECOND SCENARIO: "Crimson Nightfall"

Description:

The dead are no longer the only hunters. A corrupted lunar beast has emerged from its slumber beneath the city, spreading a parasitic blight through the streets.

Every night, its spawn will multiply, and every survivor it marks will become part of its growing horde. The moon will not set until it is slain.

Objective:

Locate the Lunar Beast’s den within the city before the third night ends.

Destroy the Beast’s core and purge its influence.

Survive against its marked hunters and the corrupted spawn.

Failure Condition:

If the Beast survives three nights, the city will fall entirely to the blight.

All remaining survivors will be assimilated into the horde.

Difficulty: Hard.

The notification faded slowly, leaving only the cold air and the heavy truth of what they had just read.

Mina’s throat tightened.

"That... sounds like your ’big thing’," she muttered. "That appeared faster than I thought."

Clyde’s grip on his spear tightened before slinging it across his back and reaching for one of the rifles instead.

His expression was even and hard.

"Yeah. It doesn’t take long to show up." His voice carried the weight of inevitability. "I don’t know that we will be facing this kind of scenario as the second scenario. The difficulty spiked higher so suddenly."

But Clyde knew that this must be that crazy World Master doing. Is this the right way to do the Selection Stage? Clyde thought that he must be just treating this like a game.

—