Aside from Cody and Luna Dawson leading the way, the rest of the group quickly advanced in combat formation. Superpowers pulsed at everyone’s fingertips. They remained on high alert, ready to launch an attack at the slightest sign of trouble.

The group scoured every inch of the floor, their eyes meeting nothing but densely packed petri dishes and culture tanks. Yet, they found no computer data, work logs, or related documents on this level.

DING.

The doors to the second basement’s elevator opened automatically.

However, it was the other elevator—the one nobody was riding.

Even more bizarrely, the interior of the car was unnaturally clean. It was spotless, completely devoid of the ruin and filth that had accompanied the apocalypse. It stood in stark, jarring contrast to the eerie atmosphere of the rest of the floor.

Suddenly, all the security cameras rotated in unison, locking dead onto the group as they stared at the open elevator. The red indicator lights blinked rhythmically in the darkness, resonating with the drumming of their pounding hearts and exuding an unspeakable eeriness.

Kevin Keane observed intently. Glancing up at the surrounding cameras, he said, “That guy is inviting us.”

Aaron Palmer looked baffled. “What? Who’s inviting us?”

Blake Blue tilted his head slightly, his ears twitching. “There’s a sound,” he said, his tone grave. “It sounds like something breathing heavily.”

Miles Dawson instinctively edged closer to Luna Dawson. He scooped Rollo up into his arms, his fingers clutching tightly at the creature’s fur.

“Breathing?!”

Aaron Palmer hastily clamped a hand over Miles Dawson’s mouth. Pressing down hard, he hissed, “Quiet!”

CRACKLE!

The lights across the entire floor flickered a few times before dying completely. The only illumination came from the eerie open elevator in the distance, casting a faint band of light through the pitch black that barely lit the path beneath their feet.

The instant the lights went out, an incredibly faint rustling sound began, enveloping the group along with the suffocating darkness.

Everyone instantly raised their weapons, pressing back-to-back into a tight defensive circle with their muzzles pointed outward. They swept their vigilant gazes across every corner of the dark room.

Tactical weapon lights crisscrossed through the gloom. The beams pierced through the culture tanks, illuminating the grotesque, misshapen Patchworks inside and casting twisted, mottled shadows that only heightened the sinister atmosphere.

William Walsh shot a look at Dylan DuPont, who simply shook his head and raised a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

The group’s breathing hitched. Not daring to make a sound, they held their breath and strained their ears to listen to their surroundings, terrified of missing the slightest anomaly.

The sound was very soft, drifting in from a distance.

It was so faint it was almost inaudible, slowly approaching from afar with a chaotic, disjointed rhythm. Upon closer listening, it sounded more like some creature sniffing and prowling through the darkness.

Luna instinctively glanced down at Cody, who had planted his furry behind right on her foot. Her brows furrowed slightly as a trace of confusion flitted through her mind.

The rustling abruptly stopped, but an even more intense, oppressive presence closed in rapidly. The surrounding air seemed to turn viscous as the faint, scrabbling noises grew denser.

A foul stench—a mix of rotting organic matter, pungent disinfectant, and the sickening metallic tang of fresh pus—instantly permeated the air. The putrid smell tightened their throats and made their stomachs churn.

TAP TAP TAP!

The sharp clicking of claws against the floorboards drew nearer, exceptionally grating in the tense air.

In the next second, a series of bizarre faces lunged out from behind the experimental pods. Accompanied by a bone-piercing chill, they instantly appeared right in front of the group.

Everyone’s pupils constricted violently. Their hearts sank as a wave of icy dread shot from the soles of their feet straight to the tops of their heads.

BANG BANG BANG!

Gunfire erupted in the dead-silent laboratory. The deafening blasts threatened to shatter their eardrums, violently tearing through the oppressive quiet.

One by one, the glass culture tanks shattered under the barrage. Cloudy, yellowish-white nutrient fluid—mixed with the mangled corpses of Patchworks—sludged down the jagged glass shards, pooling into filthy puddles on the floor.

The creatures bearing those eerie human faces trampled over the broken glass and stagnant fluid, making sickening scraping sounds. They threw themselves at the group like madmen, their eyes utterly devoid of reason, burning only with instinctual brutality.

However, they were met with a relentless hail of bullets that blew their heads apart.

Beneath the roar of the gunfire, a chorus of mournful whimpers echoed. These were far from the feral roars of zombies; rather, they were cries of absolute agony and despair. The sounds were weak but incredibly piercing, clutching at everyone’s heartstrings.

Luna instinctively shielded Rhonda Dawson behind her, wrapping an arm securely around the girl to keep her safely within the protective circle formed by the little animals. She raised her free hand, signaling for the little ones to stay put.

Once Rhonda was secured, Luna gripped her tactical flashlight and aimed its beam steadily toward the source of the agonized whimpers, determined to see exactly what they were dealing with.

They were indeed faces—human faces.

Sallow, dry, and cracked human facial skin had been crudely stitched onto the fur of monkeys and beagles with thick hemp rope. The stitching was jagged and uneven. Every seam was red, swollen, and turned outward, with viscous yellowish-black pus constantly oozing from the puncture holes.

The human hair on the scalps clung together in greasy, matted tangles, draped haphazardly over the animals’ heads to obscure most of the gruesome stitch marks.

Even more horrifyingly, some zombie heads had been forcibly grafted onto the creatures’ necks. The stitched wounds had long since festered and rotted, swelling to more than twice the thickness of their original necks. Slime dripped relentlessly from these joints; wherever the mucus landed, it corroded fine pits even into the solid glass.

Their true bodies were those of emaciated monkeys and beagles. Their once-lively eyes were partially veiled by human eyelids, yet tears streamed continuously from the corners of their eyes.

Riddled with bullet holes, they bled thick, black blood that mingled with the gushing nutrient fluid. Despite their mangled limbs, they continued to writhe and whimper on instinct. Their cries weren’t fueled by the violent aggression of the zombie virus, but by a deep-seated, inescapable agony and utter despair.

They had died long ago—killed by those sadistic grafting experiments and the forced erosion of the zombie virus. Yet, their broken bodies were being puppeted by the reanimated zombie heads.

Pair after pair of tear-filled eyes, both clear and tormented, offered a silent, damning accusation.

Luna felt her stomach churn violently, a sour tang rushing straight to the back of her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes uncontrollably. She was filled with rage, but more than that, an unspeakable heartache and profound sorrow.

Raising her hand, countless Water Blades materialized. In mere milliseconds, they pierced cleanly through the creatures’ heads.

It wasn’t an attack; it was a release.

Dylan DuPont hurried forward, taking a moment to examine the remains on the floor before letting out a heavy sigh.

Seeing this, everyone drew a sharp collective breath, complex emotions flashing across their faces.

Luna’s expression darkened significantly. She gently patted Rollo and Pinky, who were still whimpering softly. Little Tiger nuzzled against her chest, burying its head to avoid looking at the carnage.

She sneered internally, wondering whether the prophetic email and the Prophet’s warning had been right or wrong. Not only had this laboratory conducted human biochemical research, but it had also created all these monsters. This forewarned apocalypse had certainly given them plenty of time to prepare for their twisted human experiments. Under the guise of eradicating the zombie virus, what exactly were these people trying to do?

Kevin Keane leaned in and whispered in Luna’s ear, “Upset? Then let’s blow this place sky-high.”

A laboratory harboring such unspeakable secrets was bound to have a self-destruct mechanism installed to prevent any leaks.

Luna looked at him and softly replied, “Okay.”

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