Yoren had no idea how things had spiraled so quickly. One mont, everyone was peacefully mining Originium, and the next, they were in a full-scale street brawl.
The way it unfolded was almost theatrical—like those sudden gang fights in Young and Dangerous films. The infected seed to materialize from the shadows, as if they were actors waiting for their cue. Yoren half-expected a grizzled director to step out with a rolled-up script, shouting, "Cut! Back to one!"
But this wasn't a movie.
The weapons clashing around him were real. The enemies weren't stuntn—they were infected, fighting with genuine intent to kill.
He'd imagined scenes like this before. A chaotic battle, himself as the protagonist, dodging blades and fists, turning the tide at the last mont.
But now that it was happening, reality crushed those fantasies. He wasn't so legendary hero—he was terrified. His legs felt like lead.
But cowering in a corner wouldn't change a thing.
Yoren grabbed a stone and hurled it at one of the infected—a man in a headscarf.
"I'm gonna kick your ass!"
The stone never reached its mark.
With an effortless motion, the man snatched it mid-air, then crushed it to dust in his palm.
His gaze locked onto Yoren, eyes full of cold amusent. "You look like a ridiculous clown."
Yoren forced a smirk. "And you look like a loser."
Sothing in his tone must have struck a nerve, because the man's expression darkened. His fingers twitched, a telltale sign of impending violence.
Just as he was about to charge, Vina surged forward like a storm, her warhamr slicing through the air in a brutal arc.
Vina had already sized him up. His speed was impressive—stealth-based, most likely an Originium ability. But raw power ant nothing if you couldn't land a hit.
She didn't aim to end him in one strike. Instead, she adjusted her approach, prioritizing precision over brute force. A single solid hit would be enough.
Because of his fixation on Yoren, the headscarfed man reacted a fraction too late. His eyes widened as Vina closed the distance, faster than he had anticipated.
Instinct took over—he threw himself backward, narrowly avoiding the hamr's crushing blow. But even though the weapon didn't land directly, the sheer force of the swing sent a shockwave through the air. The man was flung off his feet, bricks exploding from the ground where he had stood.
Guigui ran out of the building, her voice panicked. "Yoren! What's happening?!"
"Stay back!" Yoren shouted imdiately.
She froze, startled by his tone. "But—"
"Just stay put! Find a place to hide and use your backpack to protect yourself!"
Yoren knew Guigui had incredible defensive capabilities, but that didn't an she was a fighter. She could survive a battlefield, but she wasn't built for combat.
If she tried to protect others, she might put herself in unnecessary danger.
Vina exuded pure, unfiltered bloodlust. It was the first ti Yoren had seen her fight without holding back. Even as an observer, he could feel her overwhelming presence.
Her eyes were locked onto her opponent.
"So, you're just a bluffing coward who doesn't even have the guts to face , the King of Advance."
The man clenched his headscarf, his composure cracking. "So that's it... You're the King of Advance from Victoria. No wonder so many infected have fallen to you."
Vina didn't flinch. "I've killed plenty. To , there's no difference between infected and uninfected. Enemies are enemies. I don't show rcy."
The situation was dire for the Glasgow gang. But Vina had faced worse.
She didn't care why these infected had attacked. Their scattered words told her enough—this wasn't about resources. It was about ideology.
Which ant words were useless.
She roared, the force of her voice sending snow cascading from rooftops. Then, like a lion on the hunt, she charged.
The warhamr spun in a deadly cyclone. The infected man dodged frantically, unable to go on the offensive. Every ti he landed, destruction followed—walls crumbled, roofs collapsed, entire buildings were reduced to ruins.
Several infected rushed to help, but Vina barely spared them a glance. They were swatted aside, their bodies crumpling against debris. No one dared step forward again.
The headscarfed man shouted to his allies. "Forget her! Handle the others—I'll deal with her myself!"
He danced across the battlefield, narrowly evading Vina's swings. But Yoren could see the truth.
Vina hadn't landed a single direct hit.
She was exerting too much energy. If this dragged on, she'd tire first.
That couldn't happen.
Yoren smirked. "I'll throw you, Rem!"
The infected barely dodged another hamr strike before sothing flew at him from behind. He instinctively raised his arm—only for a rock to shatter against his forearm.
Yoren had repositioned himself, launching an unrelenting barrage of debris. Stones, wooden planks, even a chisel—anything within reach beca a projectile.
"Damn you, Rem! Damn you, Rem! Damn you, Rem!"
The onslaught pelted the infected's feet, annoying him more than harming him. He leapt back, clearing Vina's strike—only for a kettle to sail through the air.
The infected reacted on instinct. He swung his arm, smashing it apart.
"Bang!"
The kettle burst, ice-cold water splashing across his face.
"Shit!"
His body stiffened. He couldn't imdiately tell what had hit him, and the uncertainty forced him to pause and wipe his face.
That mont of hesitation cost him.
The second before his fingers touched his cheek, Vina was still to his left.
The next instant, she had vanished from sight.
A murderous presence lood above him. His eyes darted up, too late.
"Goodbye, self-righteous bastard."
Vina descended, hamr raised high, bringing it down with the force of a collapsing mountain.
Yoren barely registered the impact before a shockwave blasted him off his feet. He tumbled backward, landing hard on the frozen ground.
It was over.
Right?
Rubbing his sore backside, Yoren scrambled to his feet—only to freeze at the sight before him.
The infected man lay sprawled on the ground.
But he was still alive.
Because standing in front of him was sothing massive.
A towering figure, over three ters tall, lood over the battlefield. Heavy iron plates covered its shoulders and chest, thick clothing wrapped its massive fra, and an enormous tal helt obscured its face.
At the last mont, this hulking behemoth had stepped in and absorbed Vina's full-strength attack.
Vina's hamr pressed hard against the stranger's weapon—a monstrous, jagged blade.
No.
Not a blade.
A chainsaw.
Yoren's breath caught in his throat.
His pupils shrank as he recognized the weapon.
"No way... Is that—?!"
The hulking figure with a chainsaw lood in front of the turbaned man like an immovable mountain.
If Yoren had to describe his feelings at that mont, it would be sothing like this:
Imagine a kid nad Xiao Ming. Back in middle school, he was relentlessly bullied by the class's resident brute—a fat kid with a an streak. The experience left him with a lifelong trauma. Then one day, Xiao Ming died.
No, really. He actually died.
But fate played a cruel trick on him. After a series of unspeakable events, he was reincarnated—with all his past mories intact. Determined to live a perfect life this ti around, he opened his newborn eyes, ready for a fresh start.
And there, in the crib beside him, was the sa fat kid.
Just as his tiny fists clenched in existential horror, his parents cheerfully took the hands of the fat kid's parents and said:
"These two children were born on the sa day. It must be fate! Let's raise them together, send them to the sa kindergarten, sa elentary school, middle school, and let them grow up as best friends."
As Xiao Ming's father spoke, the fat kid in the crib turned to him with a smug little smirk.
A smirk that said:
Heh. Caught you again.
That was exactly how Yoren felt staring up at the massive figure in front of him.
Except, unlike Xiao Ming, Yoren hadn't died—yet.
If his instincts were right, then this giant wasn't just any infected brute.
It was him.
The man who would one day slaughter all his beloved operators in the Cheshire riots.
Big Bob.
Damn it. Why was Big Bob here three years before those events were supposed to take place?!
Yoren forced himself to stay calm.
If this was really the Big Bob, then no one here might be able to take him down. However, there was still a chance this was just so random oversized infected, bloated from years of Oripathy.
If it wasn't truly him, then ACE, Vina, and the others could take him down together.
At that mont, the turbaned man sitting on the ground wiped the sweat from his forehead, still shaken from the explosion that had knocked him off his feet. A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
"Bob, thank goodness you arrived just in ti."
Yoren felt his stomach drop.
No. No, no, no.
Big Bob hefted his chainsaw with ease, his voice deep and unshaken beneath his helt.
"I ran into a Filin woman on the way here. Delayed a little."
The turbaned man raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Who could possibly slow you down? Did you deal with her?"
"No. She ran."
Vina, who had landed on a nearby rooftop, narrowed her eyes.
A Filin woman who had stalled Big Bob?
Indra.
Damn it. Indra must have engaged him to buy ti—but even she couldn't stop him.
Vina clenched her teeth. She had to keep Big Bob occupied. If he joined the battle raging on the other side, everyone was dead.
She pulled out her communicator and tossed it to Yoren.
"Yoren! Call ACE. Tell him if they don't get here soon, we're all dead."
Without another word, she launched herself at Big Bob again, war hamr swinging.
Yoren fumbled with the communicator, quickly switching to ACE's channel the way Kate had taught him.
"ACE! When are you coming back?! We can't hold on much longer! ACE! ACE, do you hear ?!"
The only response was static.
"Damn it!"
On the battlefield, Kate caught sight of Big Bob towering over Vina's position.
She brought her axe down, splitting an enemy open, then roared, "Boss is in danger! Finish this fight—NOW!"
"KILL!"
The Glasgow gang, hardened by years of life-or-death struggles, erupted into a frenzy.
Their initial panic had worn off. Now, they were pissed.
They had been peacefully mining Originium when a bunch of ruffians had ambushed them. Now that the surprise had worn off, it was ti to show these bastards why they ran the streets.
Morale surged. The gangsters bared their teeth, unleashing their most unhinged fighting styles.
So flexed, their muscles bulging as they tore through enemies with brute force.
So chugged liquor mid-battle and started swinging wildly like drunken masters.
So clamped knives between their teeth, dual-wielding weapons like maniacs.
The worst of them all simply shook their heads violently while screaming nonsense, throwing their opponents into absolute confusion.
It was as if everyone had been hoarding SP, and now, at the last mont, they had all activated their ultimate abilities.
anwhile, Vina and Big Bob clashed.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Unlike the turbaned man, Bob didn't dodge. He took every one of Vina's hamr strikes head-on. The sound of tal colliding with unyielding flesh echoed through the streets.
Vina pulled back, panting. Bob barely budged.
With one powerful swing, he cleaved through a nearby wall.
Vina twisted mid-air, bending at an angle that defied physics, landing behind Bob and swinging her hamr at his knee joint.
CLANG!
Her attack hit—but Bob didn't even flinch.
Instead, he reversed his chainsaw in a single, brutal motion, stabbing it into the ground behind him—right where she had been aiming.
"Close," he muttered.
Across the battlefield, Yoren watched with wide eyes. "Damn, that was so close!"
Sparks flew as Vina struggled against the force of the chainsaw. Before she could react, Bob pivoted and drove a boot straight into her stomach.
BANG!
She flew ten ters through the air, crashing hard into the ground.
And yet, she got back up imdiately, ignoring the blood dripping down her arms.
She charged him again.
On the other side, the battle was shifting.
The Glasgow gang, now fully riled up, had turned the tide. The infected forces were breaking under the assault.
And then, at the end of the street—
A group of familiar figures appeared.
ACE and the [Death] squad had finally arrived.
Battered and bloody, but victorious.
Yoren's heart leapt.
It was ti for a counterattack.
Big Bob might have been unstoppable one-on-one, but this was a team fight.
With the infected forces crumbling, all of them could pile onto Big Bob together. No matter how tough he was, even he couldn't take on everyone at once.
Yoren waved frantically. "ACE! You're finally back! We've been waiting forever!"
ACE, still running, raised a hand.
"Yoren!"
"ACE!"
"RUN!"
Yoren blinked. "Huh?"
Then he noticed the expressions on the Death Squad mbers' faces.
Wide-eyed. Fear-stricken.
As if sothing horrifying was chasing them.
Yoren narrowed his gaze, looking past them—
And saw a single, slender figure erge at the end of the street.
Just one person.
And yet, his blood ran cold.
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