Chapter 4

Chapter 4

POV: Amara

We left the gas station behind, along with Tiffany’s muffled sobs, which did nothing to smooth over her stunned expression. The armored truck was no longer anything more to me than a free ride to wherever I wanted to go, while Kyllian drove in absolute silence, stealing side-long glances in my direction as if trying to solve the mystery of someone who had completely transformed right before his eyes.

I wasn't interested in their suspicious looks, though. My entire focus was locked onto the mental radar map spun by my hidden sense, and on the heavy weather starting to turn sour as the sun sank into a blood-red haze of fog.

According to the original sequence of events in the novel, the team was supposed to enter an abandoned industrial district on this very day, walking straight into a brutal ambush set by a ruthless local gang calling themselves the "Road Wolves." The battle was supposed to end in heavy casualties, forcing the original Amara to sacrifice herself as human bait.

I had no intention of following the old script.

"Kyllian," I said in a calm voice that cut through the cabin's oppressive silence. "The main road ahead has a dangerous detour because of burning fuel trucks. The radar—I mean, my gut instinct and basic experience tell me we need to veer left through the side alley."

Kyllian turned to me, frowning sharply. "Since when did you become a road expert, Amara? We are following the military map."

"Do whatever you want," I shrugged with a provocative, indifferent drop of my shoulders as I looked out the window. "But I see thick columns of smoke rising from the road ahead, and if you like driving straight into a rigged trap, be my guest."

Tiffany chimed in with a trembling voice, seizing the chance to look sensible: "Kyllian... don't you see how strangely composed she is today? Maybe... maybe she's right. Let's just be careful."

After a brief hesitation, pressured by the panicked looks of his men, Kyllian was forced to veer toward the narrow side alley I pointed out. He had no idea I wasn't guessing at all; I was relying entirely on my mental radar, which was picking up the crystal-clear movement of ten armed men waiting impatiently at the end of the main road to ambush any passing convoy.

We drove for another twenty minutes between old, abandoned concrete warehouses until the truck stopped beside a logistics complex surrounded by barbed wire. The place looked quiet, but my radar triggered sharp warning flashes: there was life inside, and not ordinary human life—polluted, concentrated energy radiating from mutated creatures.

"Stay here," Kyllian ordered, grabbing his rifle and gesturing for two of his men to push forward with him to scout the complex for a secure night shelter.

I stepped out of the truck quietly, stepping past Tiffany’s snarky complaints as she hissed, "Where do you think you're going now? Have you lost your mind?"

I didn't answer her. I knew this complex wasn't just a shelter; it was a secret outpost for one of the collapsed military's experimental cells, where strong survivors were locked away and the weak were turned into mutated freaks. More importantly... there was at least one person trapped deep inside a cell within that building: a supporting character of critical importance in the second half of the novel, Julian.

I moved with light, steady steps past the broken fence, my eyes scanning the corners of the area with extreme precision. The mental radar guided me like a transparent map passing straight through thick concrete walls.

At that exact moment, I detected rapid movement inside the front guard post. An unusually agile mutated zombie leaped out at me, featuring long limbs and sharp claws reeking of dried blood. In the novel, this creature would have torn apart one of Kyllian’s guards and sparked widespread panic.

I didn't give it the chance.

Before it could finish its leap, I drew my tactical knife with effortless speed, dodging its lunge with a quick, spinning evasion. With a single precise strike targeting the weak point at the base of its skull behind the ear, the blade sank deep.

The colossal creature dropped almost silently. Another warm spark of energy burst forth, piercing my soul and settling deep within the infinite dimension, making the roots of the Ability Tree in my pendant glow brighter and sprouting fresh green buds along its primary branch.

I kicked open the door to the complex’s lower basement with a heavy kick, descending the dark stone stairs smelling of dampness and medical drugs. At the end of the corridor, behind thick iron bars, sat a young man with messy university-style hair, wearing a torn white researcher's coat. His clever eyes stared at me with sharp astonishment mixed with a faint, cynical amusement.

Julian. The virus expert who had been abandoned at the start of the apocalypse for refusing to cooperate with military gangs in producing biological weapons.

"Looks like the guards of this place clocked out early today," Julian said in a raspy, calm voice, raising his eyebrows in curious wonder as he took in my steady posture amidst this hellhole. "Did they send you to finish me off, or are you just lost, Miss?"

I looked at him calmly, stepping closer to the malfunctioning electronic lock, and pulled a thin metal shim from my boot to bypass it in mere seconds. I spoke in a voice dripping with confidence:

"Neither one, Dr. Julian. I came to offer you a simple deal: I have the strength and the power to get you out of this hell... and you have the brain the world needs to stay afloat on the lifeboats."

The lock clicked open, and the heavy iron door slid aside. Julian stared at me for a few solid seconds, then slowly smiled, standing up to brush the dust off his coat, announcing the start of an unprecedented partnership that would change the rules of the game entirely.