Chapter 3: The Nameless World 02
The shout echoed across the field, lingering for a long time.
The captain spun around in fury. Beneath the sullen sky, through billowing smoke, someone was standing behind him. Or rather, a humanoid creature.
Black trench coat, high boots, short hair, and a face cold enough to freeze someone to death—features he would recognize even burned to ash.
Yu Feichen, the outside specialist their squad had hired for a “guaranteed-clear instance” service.
They weren’t especially flush with cash; they’d only gritted their teeth to hire the most expensive operative because this run included a rookie—so the newcomer could feel how strong and reliable the team was. Just seeing the fee made his heart ache.
Who knew that on day one in this zombie world—three months ago—the sky‑high hire would be swallowed by the horde, not even a body left.
The monetary loss alone was staggering; missing an outside operative, their mission kept stalling. Just yesterday, the rookie Xia Sen had been snatched away by flying zombies together with a critical virus specimen—vanished without a trace.
In short, they’d lost both people and money—a total bust.
So now, any sight of Yu Feichen’s face made the captain want to curse.
He drew a deep breath, barely steadying his temper—then noticed Yu Feichen’s pallid skin, discolored irises, expressionless face, and intact, unrotted body. All hallmarks of a high‑grade zombie.
Meeting on the battlefield and your teammate is a zombie—what do you even say?
How are you? Eaten yet? Are you dead? Do you still love humanity?
Before the captain could decide what to feel, the thing grabbed someone else by the collar and tossed them in—a grimy, ash‑streaked teenager, slender, wearing a blood‑spattered white lab coat.
“Captain,” the teen was caught full-on by the bald captain and lifted his head. “God Yu is a good person. He saved me from the zombies.”
This was their rookie, Xia Sen—very sharp, first time in an instance, and had done fairly well.
“Xia Sen,” the captain asked the most important question first, “the virus sample?”
Xia Sen pulled a micro cryo‑case from his coat. “Bless the Lord God—it’s not lost.”
The captain let out a long breath.
It stuck in his throat at once.
He heard Yu Feichen’s voice. After issuing a few cryptic orders to the unified command, he said to those inside the hull, “Drive forward.”
The teammates looked at each other and concluded they could only comply.
A top‑priced “guaranteed-clear” hire dying to zombies at the opening bell was already strange. For that operative—dead and gone—to reappear on the battlefield as a high‑grade zombie was even stranger.
Stranger still: that this operative‑turned‑high‑grade zombie was now in their lines, commanding human troops against the horde.
Muttered whispers drifted up from the crew.
“We’ve got a mole among us.”
“And there’s a mole among the zombies.”
“The two moles are the same person.”
“So which side’s mole is he?”
“Good grief.”
“Good grief—my head’s gonna—”
The guns thundered again, this time firing canister: each round burst into nearly ten thousand micro steel flechettes. Even without a killing hit, a zombie would lock up for a heartbeat on impact.
The armored tank seized those moments, grinding forward—slow but inexorable.
“Continue,” Yu Feichen said. “Optimal coordinates: North 177.642, West 69.685.”
But the closer they got to Black Satan, the larger the surrounding zombies grew—hideous behemoths forming a fortress as solid as iron. Canister was useless, AP rounds no better—and worst of all, the ammo was about to run out.
Through smoke so thick visibility was near zero, countless massive gray‑white shapes surged, slamming toward them!
A few teammates screamed on instinct, as if they’d already been hit head‑on.
And then—
A sodden thud: another giant mass streaked in from behind, slamming straight into a behemoth’s skull. The two monsters rolled to the ground, tearing into each other madly.
A zombie monster had saved them.
Then another leapt in.
And another.
The captain strained at the binoculars to look back. They were already deep inside the tide—enemies on every side. But now the rearward horde was stampeding forward—to fight other zombie behemoths to the death.
Smoke roiled; the giants ripped at each other. Waves of smaller zombies poured in like surf. It was as though a sea’s tide had split and was crashing upon itself.
Infighting among the zombies?
And the turncoat side was likely those strange, motionless zombies from before!
The captain instantly thought of A1407—the suspected second zombie leader.
“It’s a trap!” he swore. “Damn it, they’re infighting! Two leaders going at it! Where is A1407? Weren’t you looking?”
No one had found A1407; no one dared answer. They huddled and shook.
In the silent tank, a cool voice sounded.
“Looking for me?”
Captain: “…”
Crew: “…”
The captain stared, speechless, at Yu Feichen—shocked beyond words. Even his form of address flipped. “You… Sir… you…”
Yu Feichen said nothing, only stared unblinking at the front. Perhaps from focus, those mutation‑tinged violet eyes held a faint glimmer of madness.
It didn’t matter if he stayed quiet—once they accepted it, everyone’s gaze shifted.
The times scientists had tracked A1407 lined up exactly with shortly after Yu Feichen’s “death.” It all made sense.
A1407, the zombie leader, was Yu Feichen—their hired specialist—and he stood with the humans.
They had never seen anything like this.
The battle turned at once. A1407’s control exceeded Black Satan’s by a good margin. The defecting zombies drastically eased pressure on the tank, which drove straight in, bearing down on Black Satan itself.
Black Satan—mountain‑big—looked invulnerable, but the onrushing steel tank clearly made it anxious. Tens of thousands of zombie birds screamed and dove, joining the fray. With their sortie, the bombers finally had breathing room.
Bombers seized the skies. The target was big enough: heavy bunker‑busters and stabilizer munitions rained onto Black Satan. Not lethal—but bone‑deep.
A low bellow rolled across the earth; the ground shuddered; that jagged, ugly spine slowly arched.
“We’re at the coordinates.”
As the tank braked, Black Satan’s shadow swelled—like a mountain rearing from the soil.
The mangled mass rose.
The tank sat at its feet—no more than a hundred meters away. Tilt your head and there was its belly—if the thing had a belly.
With a sharp screech, a black bird with a wingspan of several meters swept past and seized Yu Feichen’s shoulder, lifting him from the tank’s roof.
Yu Feichen hung high in the air, as if he had sprouted black wings.
The gun mount was empty. The captain looked up. Yu Feichen, lightly as you please, had already raised the heavy launcher the captain himself hadn’t managed to lift—aimed at Black Satan. He didn’t seem to need a sight.
What kind of monster was this man?
At some pivot, he’d turned zombie; steered his mutation; evolved toward a zombie leader; found Black Satan’s neural nexus; then, at the last moment, returned to human lines to sync the fight—and hoisted a human weapon—
The captain decided he really hadn’t run enough zombie instances. Not one link in that chain could he explain.
Yet looking up at Yu Feichen in the air—remembering that look—he felt certain this thing was no kindly soul.
Bang.
A modest report, smoke and flame; a streak tore the gloomy sky—and in a blink sank into a point on Black Satan’s newly exposed “abdomen.”
The massive body jerked stiff, time grinding to a halt.
Yu Feichen gestured in midair.
The captain’s pupils tightened.
“Back! Now!”
Faces white, the crew yanked the controls.
On the rough ground, the heavy tank careened backward as fast as it could go.
The shadow toppled. The tank tore along its edge, as if dragging the darkness forward—until the shadow outran it.
What hit first wasn’t Black Satan’s body—but a chunk of meat the size of a head.
“Close the hatch!” the captain roared—
The hatch slammed; impacts hammered the hull in waves—like a barrage of rolling stones. The steel groaned beneath each blow. Between shrieks of metal, all you could hear was the thud of your own heart.
When it all finally stopped, the captain was first up and out.
Before him.was a field of hideous, scattered limbs. Black Satan had not fallen whole—it had come apart.
He looked around. The smoke was thinning; the struggling zombies fewer and fewer.
As if someone had pressed pause, frenzied tearing slowed to chewing; lightning pounces to sluggish steps. At last, all the zombies stood still.
Then they began drifting toward the center.
In the silent field, they migrated without a sound—closer, closer—until they were packed into an irregular phalanx. Every lifeless face turned toward the human base. Even birds and insects settled.
Yu Feichen dropped back into the tank.
The teammates murmured on.
“Right—A1407 teamed with the humans, used human forces, and took down Black Satan.”
“Right—a new zombie king is born.”
“Right—what happens next?”
“Not right—now A1407 will turn on the humans and bite the hand that fed him.”
“You’re a riot.” This time it came over the comms.
Yu Feichen glanced their way.
He’d taken “guaranteed‑clear” jobs for a long time, seen all kinds of clients and squads—but a unit this devoted to repetition and gag routines was rare. He wondered what world had spawned them.
And that line over the unified channel wasn’t quite normal either. He counted heads in the cabin: one short of the pre‑instance tally. So the captain had a teammate embedded on the command side.
Limited as the squad’s contribution was, at least there was something to recommend.
An hour and a half later, the horde’s mustering neared its end. They were packed tight across the plain, offering no resistance, like dumplings already dropped into a pot.
Yu Feichen said to the unified command over the line—
“Blow them.”
As calmly, as naturally, as saying: Dinner’s served.
That was how humanity won.
Carpet bombing is simple—simple enough that some people had no desire to watch.
“Yu Feichen. Brother Yu.” The captain’s heavy voice sounded inside the hull.
Yu Feichen looked over: go on.
“Would you be willing to give an honest explanation of what happened today?” the captain asked.
“The contract is fulfilled,” Yu Feichen replied, voice genuinely even. “Don’t forget the balance.”
“Is it really fulfilled?” the captain’s tone was pained.
Yu Feichen thought.
Their squad’s mission: win the defense, eliminate all zombies, save the human base.
Their hire requirement 1: everyone survives.
Requirement 2: complete the mission.
Bonus ask 1: preferably a violent clear (so the rookie would feel the team’s strength and reliability, be dazzled, and develop deep admiration).
Remembering Xia Sen’s moved expression when he’d pulled him from the zombies, Yu Feichen was all the more certain.
“It’s done.”
After cleanup and a brief celebration, most of the base’s strength shifted to vaccine research. The virus sample Xia Sen brought back was critical. Everything went smoothly.
On his way to find Yu Feichen, the captain ran into Xia Sen. Xia Sen asked, “Captain, have you seen Brother Yu?”
“You’re looking too?”
Xia Sen pressed his lips into a smile.
“You’re acting off,” the captain said, side‑eyeing him.
Xia Sen smiled. “I’m curious about him. Where I’m from, the pursuit of knowledge is one of our virtues.”
“Nice virtue,” the captain muttered. “Too bad it can get you killed.”
They found him at the northeast watchtower. On the eighth floor was a protruding platform. Yu Feichen sat on the wide concrete rail at the side, back to the wall, one leg casually bent. In his right hand, a clear glass bottle—looked like the mess hall’s spiked, semi‑finished high‑proof, a.k.a. fake liquor.
He took a pull. It was hard to say what drinking meant on him. In the blood‑red sunset, he looked like a pensive silhouette at first glance; look closer, and he was utterly expressionless. Set a robot here and it could hardly be more rigid.
For a moment, the captain didn’t speak either. He walked to the rail and looked out. This was practically the highest point in the base. Gray concrete buildings crowded like ants within an invisible boundary; beyond it, an endless black plain.
A flock of crows wheeled over the wasteland. Under the massive sun, the city was smaller than a single bird. And for the survivors, restoring life after the disaster looked harder than winning the battle.
“Captain?” Xia Sen asked softly.
“Got sentimental,” the bald captain sighed.
“Suffering will pass,” Xia Sen said, watching the crows, hands clasped at his chest. “Because God loves everyone.”
“You do know a lot,” the captain said.
“I don’t know much about ‘Paradise’ yet,” Xia Sen said, “but my homeland is Landen Warren. We’ve worshiped the Lord God for generations.”
Yu Feichen turned to them.
“You’re awake,” the captain said.
In these days, the captain had made his peace: so what if the clear was unorthodox—better than a wipe. As for how the rookie saw the team—well, that would be shattered sooner or later.
He was calm now.
“I wanted to ask, Brother Yu,” the captain said. “The zombies are wiped. Today they announced the vaccine works. Why aren’t we going back? Is there some hidden mechanic?”
Yu Feichen looked at him.
It wasn’t the first time the captain had seen that look in his eyes. The left read, “How have you still not figured it out?” The right, “How are you still alive?”
“…”
Yu Feichen glanced away. Employers often asked him questions so simple they were odd. If a gig was “coaching,” he’d sometimes answer. This one was a pure “guaranteed clear.”
He’d stopped taking coaching jobs—too many complaints.
The burn of alcohol in his throat faded. Seventy‑eight proof—decent.
He drew the long dagger at his side and poured half the bottle over it from pommel to tip.
Then, before their eyes—
Expressionless, he stabbed himself.
A soft chime sounded above.
Ding.
Then a gentle female voice.
“791154 completed.”
“Return channel opening in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, …”
“Welcome back to Paradise.”
