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Suddenly, the grip on Ray loosened.
He stumbled backward a few steps, regaining his freedom.
The massive monster seemed to have been moved by his cries and released him—but this foolish thought barely had time to form in his mind before it was drowned out by the flood of vines surging from the depths of the corridor.
While they were mired in conspiracies and calculations, the Doomsday Seed had continued its relentless expansion, finally reaching the facility's exit. The roots sucked the life out of the monstrous creature like a deflating balloon. Yet the serpent-like vines, unsatisfied with dragging away the husk, continued crawling forward along the floor.
Ray led the line of people behind him toward the exit.
As the horde of monsters burst through the gate, several injured soldiers who had been pinned to the ground became visible.
The monsters didn’t attack them—or at least, not intentionally. All injuries were caused by trampling and collisions.
Even anomalous entities saw each other as prey. They must have sensed something even more terrifying and, upon discovering that someone had opened the exit, made the same choice as Ray—to flee for their lives.
The soldiers on the ground couldn’t rise. One managed to lift a metallic cylinder with great effort, firing a bomb into the depths of the corridor.
Ray heard the explosion, but the flash of fire was fleeting, swallowed up by the endless tide of vines pouring forth.
“The Doomsday Seed has evolved ahead of schedule! It’s advancing! We need aerial support!”
As Ray passed by, a soldier clutched his broken earpiece to report, ignoring the pain as he raised a gun and aimed at Ray.
“Stop, CVA!”
Like the facility staff, the soldier used the standardized prefix for containment objects when addressing him.
“Remove your influence, or I—”
“I wish I could!” Ray shouted back, sprinting with all his might. “Your gear won’t help here! Just run for your lives!”
Several other soldiers tried to stop him, but Ray’s survival instinct propelled him faster than they could react. As their captain raised his weapon, searching for an angle to shoot without hitting teammates, he caught sight of the back of the person at the end of the line.
Those who moments ago couldn’t even crawl now sprang to their feet like puppets on strings—wounded soldiers, the captain rigging explosives for a suicide mission to stop the Doomsday Seed, and the observer still reporting through his radio—all surged forward in unison, dropping bombs, clutching radios, and scrambling after the group.
Ray charged up the slope and into the bright glare of headlights.
“Help! Someone, please—” He called out twice before realizing the vehicles’ engines roared but their interiors were empty.
These must have been the soldiers’ transport.
Clutching his bleeding arm, Ray ran past the convoy and suddenly found himself in an expansive open space.
It had been so long since he’d seen the surface. Staring at the vast world around him, he stood dumbfounded.
Had the sky always been this vast? Had the moon always hung there, surrounded by a few lonely stars?
Shaking off his daze, he noticed the silhouettes of monsters scattering across the landscape, breaking through walls and rushing toward the distant cityscape. Ray didn’t dare follow them. Instead, he prayed for the people in the city while continuing to run toward the desolate wasteland away from the facility. Along the way, guard towers and checkpoint gates stood wide open, entrances smeared with bloodstains, yet no living soul was in sight.
He avoided them, gritting his teeth against the pain as he sprinted.
When he glanced back, enormous vine-like columns pierced the surface, stretching their limbs under the indigo twilight. Pouch-like structures appeared on the plant’s surface, swelling and developing into organs incomprehensible to Ray.
Was this the “second growth phase”?
What about the people still trapped in the shelters inside the facility…
A low whistling sound approached from afar. A formation of bombers shaped like a “V” materialized like ghosts, diving straight down from high above.
Seeing the bombs fall, Ray covered his head with his bloody hands and pushed himself to run faster.
Strangely, no flames erupted behind him, and there were hardly any explosions.
Summoning courage, he turned back to look at the facility. To his astonishment, the planes hadn’t dropped conventional bombs.
A dark mist rose from the impact points, enveloping the ground.
Upon contact with the toxic fog, the Doomsday Seed rapidly withered, collapsing like its unfortunate prey. The newly formed pouches discolored and shriveled, and the plant’s towering structure struggled briefly before succumbing, its body slumping in defeat.
As the mist settled into the channels below, a cacophony of corrosion echoed, and the ground near the facility began to collapse.
The structural supports, long overtaken by vines, finally gave way. The collapse spread quickly, splitting the earth and forming a massive sinkhole.
Even the acrid smell in the air made Ray cough uncontrollably. He silently thanked fate for having run far enough.
“Team Gardener 2 is unresponsive, and the cameras are down… Probably signal issues caused by the facility’s collapse,” someone’s radio blared. “They have independent oxygen supplies—hurry up and send reinforcements to dig them out before the enhanced herbicide wears off and we lose control of that thing again!”
“Sir, authorities from District Three have issued a protest through the Coalition, accusing us of contaminating groundwater…”
“Tell them to go to hell, as far away as possible!”
“Team 2, respond if you can hear us! Respond!”
Ray led the group in a wide circle, waving at the miniature cameras mounted on the soldiers’ shoulders. He picked up a radio but couldn’t figure out which button to press to speak. The last caller was labeled “Gardener MTF Commander.” Looking at the owner of the radio, whose face was obscured by a full-face helmet, Ray sighed, knowing he wouldn’t receive step-by-step instructions.
Why did all of The Management Bureau’s equipment have to be so complicated?
If the plant hadn’t occupied every inch of underground space, perhaps the people in the shelters would be safe. He’d heard the shelters were designed to withstand immense pressure and provide self-sustaining oxygen—but how crash-resistant were they?
And those monsters… he hoped the people in the city would be okay.
The sky grew darker, and the direction of the facility returned to an eerie calm, as though it were just another ordinary night.
Ray wasn’t sure whether this outcome was good or bad. Robin’s tablet had slipped from her grasp when she charged forward; it was likely crushed now. Without it, he couldn’t report to her superior or request backup. This was trouble. Robin wouldn’t regain consciousness for a while—who would vouch for him?
If no one could testify for him, what would happen next? Would he be confined, subjected to stricter containment measures, or worse?
What was the name of that superior again? Something ridiculous, wasn’t it?
In the distance, several helicopters approached, their searchlights sweeping across the barren land. One hovered above the group, spotlighting Ray with its beam.
Under the harsh white light, Ray raised his hands.
Soldiers rappelled down from the air, quickly surrounding him. Ray extended his arms, allowing them to bind him.
“There’s a group of monsters heading toward…”
“We don’t need your intel, CVA.”
Ray fell silent.
If he’d known everything would spiral out of control, he might as well have stayed in the shelter with Robin and the zombie horde—the partially closed door might’ve worked just fine.
At least The Management Bureau showed some humanity, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds before cuffing him.
The soldiers dragged MTF members out of the line one by one, strapping them onto stretchers to prevent them from rejoining the queue. Soon enough, Robin was taken away too. Various cleanup vehicles filled the open space, their headlights illuminating the area like daylight. Nearby, the ground was gradually covered with bulging body bags.
“CVA-D-9013, you’re in deep trouble.”
A soldier who seemed to be the leader approached. Upon learning that Team Gardener 2 had survived, their tone softened slightly.
“You’d better not be directly involved in the containment breach.”
“I was recruited!” Ray argued desperately. “I received orders from one of your leaders at The Management Bureau! That leader told me—told me to save as many people as possible!”
Nearby soldiers burst into laughter.
“That’s the most absurd excuse I’ve ever heard.”
“Which leader gave you direct orders? The facility director? The deputy?”
“You might as well say the commander ordered you!”
“Silence!” the leader barked at the others before turning back to Ray. “Lying won’t help you, 9013. Post-incident investigators will uncover the truth…”
“It was [Mud Truck] who gave me the order!” Ray raised his voice, hoping to sound more credible. “You can ask Robin—the temp worker—she was directly commanded and can vouch for me!”
“Mud Truck? What kind of ridiculous name is that?”
“It sounds vaguely familiar…”
“This isn’t the time for idle chatter. Take the wounded to quarantine!” the leader ordered, then pressed his earpiece and stepped aside.
The nickname “Mud Truck” did ring a bell, but the leader hesitated and passed the question upward—to his superior.
Coincidentally, after much deliberation, the superior did the same.
Within five minutes, the name “Mud Truck” climbed the chain of command and eventually landed on the desk of the Emergency Command Center’s advisory board.
People exchanged glances, echoing the same question posed by the IT director two days prior.
“Who is Mud Truck?”
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