Chapter One: My Name Is Cao Fusheng

"Ugh..."
Lying on the hard cot, I let out a pained groan as I slowly opened my bloodshot, clouded eyes.

My limbs were limp and powerless, waves of agony tearing through my nerves, so intense that even the smallest movement of a finger seemed impossible.

It took half an hour before I regained the faintest glimmer of strength, enough to prop myself up against the wall, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I gasped for breath, struggling to piece together my memories, which flickered and faded in my mind.

With a rasp, I struck a match and lit the candle on the table, regaining some vision in the weak glow.

This so-called safe house where I eked out a miserable existence was perhaps forty or fifty square meters—more than enough for one person. Yet its furnishings were crude: a nearly collapsing hard bed, a table, and a storage cabinet.

Those were the only usable items; the rest—appliances like refrigerators or televisions—had long since become useless in this era survivors called the "Age of Ruin." Or rather, they were useless in most places. Only the larger, electrified settlements could make use of such things.

I touched my cheek and, still somewhat dazed, muttered, "My name is Cao Fusheng. I want to live... but I'm about to die..."

I sucked in a sharp breath, shivering from my fever, my body racked with chills. I raised my left hand with effort and saw a bandage stretching from my palm up to my shoulder, still stained with blood.

A faint tearing sensation came from my abdomen, which was also tightly wrapped in thick gauze.

Gently, I peeled back the bandages on my arm and saw my calloused palm marked by a black sun, as if the symbol was embedded in my flesh.

I stared at the mark, stunned, but forced myself to pull away the bandage from my entire left arm. There, on my shoulder, was a deep, scabbed gash, the bone nearly visible.

I hissed in pain—the scab, nearly healed, tore as I removed the bandage. My unease deepened.

By rights, I should be turning into a "Ghoul." The fever was the first sign.

I fumbled under the pillow for a book, its cover just legible: "Survivor's Log."

This was the universal journal among the survivors of the Age of Ruin—a kind of encyclopedia.

The last year of the Old Era, the end of A.D. 2125. The once clear blue sky suddenly darkened. When the darkness swallowed every corner of the world, all living things fell into a sleep that did not harm their bodies.

Under the assault of corrosive rains, most vegetation withered, the world's vitality doused.

Then, sunlight vanished completely, plunging the world into endless, cyclical night. This day was recorded as the "Eternal Night."

My fevered vision doubled as I struggled to turn to a dog-eared page:

Nightmare Beasts:
Fear Level—Unpredictable.
Main Trait: Cannot be killed.
Secondary Trait: Unpredictable.
Maximum Strength: Unpredictable.
Maximum Speed: Unpredictable.
Appearance: Gigantic (3-5 meters tall), upright runners, climbers, leapers.
Description: Predators lurking in darkness, feeding on living things. Known as the earliest aberrations of the Age of Ruin. Any creature bitten or clawed by them, so long as the head remains, will mutate—humans into Ghouls, animals into Aberrants.

I couldn't help but recall two days ago, when one of these apex predators almost tore me apart. In the four months since I awoke, this was the closest I'd come to death.

Suddenly, the log slipped from my grasp and thudded to the floor. My body twisted uncontrollably, racked by violent spasms as I convulsed on the bed.

To keep from making too much noise, I bit down hard on my arm, trying to stifle the fit.

Fresh blood welled from my mouth—my own, drawn from the arm I bit. Fearing the scent might attract something terrible, I forced myself to swallow it, making sure not a drop hit the floor.

"Am I doomed after all... I don't want to become... one of those mindless husks..."

A hoarse growl escaped my lips, pain twisting my features until I was nearly unconscious.

I could feel something rushing through me, about to flood my body—and it certainly wasn't blood.

As I spasmed, the thick gauze around my abdomen began to split, blood seeping through.

It lasted only minutes, but to me it felt an eternity.

Eyes wide with terror, I stared at my belly as the gauze tore and fell away, exposing a wound that nearly split me in two.

From inside, countless tendrils strained to escape, writhing beneath my skin.

My consciousness waned, flickering like a candle about to gutter out—death was closing in.

I lost control of my body, unable even to suck at my bleeding arm, watching helplessly as blood trickled from my palm and dripped onto the floor.

Perhaps stirred by the scent, the tendrils in my abdomen writhed more fiercely, desperate to burst free.

Darkness devoured what little awareness I had left.

Huffing, hissing...

More and more terrifying noises gathered outside the safe house, yet I, nearly unconscious, could do nothing.

I noticed the black sun in my left palm was changing, lightening, fed by the spilled blood.

But I had no strength to ponder it.

Ten minutes—that was the limit for infection: fever, convulsions, then total mutation. The longer it took, the stronger the constitution and immunity.

On the bed, "I" suddenly opened my eyes.

In the trembling candlelight, a broken mirror on the wall reflected my form.

Those were the eyes of a corpse—pale blue irises, whites turned darker, the mark of a First Tier Ghoul.

Huffing, hissing...

Crumbs of consciousness remained as I watched my own warped body stagger off the bed, lurching around the room with an inhuman gait.

My nostrils emitted the telltale sounds of a Ghoul, as I wandered aimlessly, sniffing the air for any sign of life.

"Gene mutation detected in host..."

"Host has met conditions to activate the Genetic Ecological Chain..."

"Host's body decay at critical threshold..."

"Does host consent to activate the Genetic Ecological Chain..."

No sound escaped my lips, but in my mind, the voices echoed—yet I could not think, could not respond.

At this moment, I was truly a Ghoul.

"Does host consent to activate the Genetic Ecological Chain..."

"Does host consent..."

"Does..."

I continued to huff and hiss.

"Host has consented to activate the Genetic Ecological Chain. Activation in progress, please wait..."

By now, the sun mark in my left palm had turned completely white.

"Genetic Ecological Chain activated. Host's decay level has fallen below the threshold. As this is the first activation, an ecological purge will commence."