“Zzzzt… The current time is 10:23 AM, October 13, 2030.”

“This may be the final broadcast from this frequency.”

“Shanghu has fallen. It is now classified as an uninhabited zone.”

“Do not approach! Do not approach!!!”

“To all fellow survivors: Do not stare at the Blood Moon for more than three seconds. Do not acknowledge the shadows beneath streetlights. Do not believe that your deceased loved ones have returned to life!”

“The human spark… will never be extinguished!”

“Zzzzt…”

Chen Ye listened to the chaotic static washing through the radio, a glacial chill spreading through his veins.

A suffocating despair settled over the entire convoy.

Shanghu. One of the world’s premier super-cities, a beacon of civilization, had fallen. It was now a Forbidden Zone for Humanity.

…

The global outbreak of the Anomalies had begun only a few months ago.

In that short span, entire nations had collapsed, reduced to Forbidden Zones where no human dared tread. Humanity’s vaunted thermal weaponry proved to be nothing more than a bad joke in the face of these entities. Anomalies could not be killed—or at the very least, they were terrifyingly difficult to destroy.

Chen Ye was a refugee from Jiang City. He had joined a convoy of ragged survivors, pinning his hopes on reaching the survivor base in Shanghu.

He rode within the column on a battered, black-painted “Old 28” Heavy Bike. Strapped to the rear rack was a large, bulging bundle containing every worldly possession he had left.

Why, in the apocalypse, was he pedaling a rusty bicycle instead of driving a car?

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Chen Ye had once smashed a car window with a rock and forced the door open. But without a key, the engine was a brick. He was an ordinary man; he couldn’t hotwire an ignition by stripping two wires and sparking them together like an action hero in a movie.

Without a key, acquiring the rights to use a vehicle was nearly impossible for the average person. No one had anticipated the end of the world, nor had they preemptively learned the skills of a car thief.

As for why he hadn’t secured an electric scooter or a motorbike?

The reason was the same. Batteries died, keys were missing. Even this heavy-duty “Old 28” had been the last scrap of metal left in a looting-ravaged bike shed.

The convoy itself was a motley collection of desperation. There were modified off-road vehicles bristling with spikes, heavy buses packed with people, and roaring motorcycles. There were even those driving slow-moving Elderly Mobility Scooters and small electric bikes.

And, of course, there were plenty of cyclists. Even a bicycle offered migration speed and load-bearing capacity far superior to walking on two legs.

Everyone in this convoy had to carve two iron rules into their minds.

Rule Number One: Do not fall behind! Do not fall behind! Do not fall behind!!!

Rule Number Two: Stockpile as many supplies as possible.

The first rule took absolute precedence over the second. Without supplies, there was still a chance to survive; there were always a few kind-hearted souls willing to share a scrap of food.

But if you fell behind?

Only death awaited you.

Most of the convoy members were survivors fleeing Jiang City, aiming for the promised safety of Shanghu. As a top-tier metropolis, everyone believed Shanghu would have found a solution to the Anomalies.

But before they could even reach the destination, the radio shattered that hope.

Shanghu had become an uninhabited zone.

A mega-city with a population of tens of millions, gone.

Upon hearing the news, the weeping of despair rippled through the surrounding travelers. The tiny flames of hope that had flickered in their eyes turned to ashen grey.

The convoy trudged forward, heavily burdened by this crushing atmosphere.

As night fell, the convoy set up camp.

The Blood Moon rose silently into the sky, hanging atop the tree branches like a gouged eye, casting a veil of crimson gauze over heaven and earth.

The aura of the Anomalies instantly saturated the land. Survivors suppressed their sobs, terrified that any loud noise might startle the unknowable horrors lurking in the deep darkness.

Night was when the Anomalies were most active.

From the distant towns—now Forbidden Zones—came faint, eerie cries for help. It was a lure, a trap set to draw living humans into the maw of death. Such tactics were commonplace among the Anomalies.

Chen Ye unstrapped his bundle from the back of the “Old 28.” He retrieved a camping pot, a Portable Gas Stove, and half a bottle of mineral water.

The pot and stove were scavenged items from his escape route. Scavenged alongside them was the Hand Crossbow hanging at his waist.

In this chaotic end of days, humans were sometimes far more terrifying than the Anomalies.

He tore open a packet of instant noodles, tossed the dry block into the pot, poured in the water, and ignited the stove. Blue flames licked the bottom of the pot, and bubbles began to rise sluggishly.

After a moment’s hesitation, Chen Ye added a single sausage to the mix.

This was his last canister of gas. Once it was empty, a hot meal would become a distant luxury.

Steam curled upward, carrying the artificial, savory scent of instant noodles. As the mist rose from the camping pot, Chen Ye fell into deep thought.

Shanghu has fallen.

Where do we go now? How do we survive this?

He recalled a forum post he had seen online just before the internet collapsed.

The post had claimed: “Anomalies cannot be killed by conventional means. Only by awakening as a Sequence Beyonder can one kill an Anomaly!”

At the time, he hadn’t believed it. He thought it was just some mental patient spewing abstract nonsense.

But after the outbreak, reality had proven the post right. He had once shot an Anomaly squarely with his Hand Crossbow.

It had done absolutely nothing.

Sequence Beyonder…

The post mentioned there were many ways to awaken a supernatural Sequence. Some people awakened spontaneously, without warning. Others required an injection of something called a “Sequence Serum.” The post claimed there were hundreds of Sequences, each granting different abilities.

I wonder… what does the power of a Sequence Beyonder actually feel like?

The aroma of the noodles grew stronger. In the past, Chen Ye had despised instant noodles. Now, in this environment, they were a delicacy. Even this humble bowl was something many people here didn’t have.

Around him, numerous survivors smelled the food. He could hear the audible gulps of saliva, could feel the greed burning in their eyes. If Chen Ye hadn’t conspicuously adjusted the Hand Crossbow in his grip, someone would have already tried to rob him.

Some of them hadn’t eaten in a full day.

He finished the bowl quickly. Throughout the entire meal, he never once set down the crossbow. Washing the pot was a luxury he couldn’t afford; every drop of water was too precious to waste on cleaning.

He lit the last cigarette in his pack, crumpled the empty box, and tossed it into the dark. In this apocalypse, tobacco was a hard currency; one less smoke meant one less moment of relief.

The faint cherry of the cigarette illuminated the sharp contours of his face. The mellow smoke cycled through his lungs, slightly easing his anxiety and confusion. He smoked it down until the filter burned his lips before flicking it away.

Night had fully settled. Chen Ye reached into his bag to pull out a wool blanket he had scavenged from a villa district, intending to endure the night.

But the moment his fingers brushed the fabric, a string of text manifested directly in his mind.

[Upgrading the blanket requires consuming 129 Slaughter Points. Proceed with upgrade?]

Upgrade?

…

Fifteen minutes later, Chen Ye had grasped the meaning of the text floating before his eyes.

He had not awakened a Sequence ability. He had awakened an Upgrade System.

As long as he wished it, he could upgrade any item he touched. The blanket in his hand, the Hand Crossbow at his waist, or even the Portable Gas Stove he had just used.

The only requirement was Slaughter Points.

With enough points, he could theoretically turn this wool blanket into a flying Magic Carpet.

After the initial rush of euphoria, Chen Ye felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him.

He had absolutely zero Slaughter Points.

Just as disappointment began to set in, a new line of text appeared.

[Considering this is the Host’s first time using this system.]

[This system can Loan the Host 300 Slaughter Points. Repayment term: One Month!]

I can take a loan?

Without a second thought, Chen Ye mentally clicked confirm.

In an apocalypse where an Anomaly might tear his throat out by tomorrow morning, refusing a loan would be idiocy.

With points in hand, Chen Ye turned his gaze to his bicycle.

To his current self, this “Old 28” Heavy Bike was his most critical asset. Upgrading it was undoubtedly the most cost-effective plan. He had seen with his own eyes that those who fell behind never caught up.

The Convoy’s First Iron Rule: Do not fall behind!

Upgrade the bicycle with all my Slaughter Points!

Chen Ye attempted to send the command to the system with his mind.

The system responded immediately.

[Confirm using 300 Slaughter Points to upgrade the bicycle?]

Chen Ye confirmed instantly.

An hourglass countdown appeared, hovering above the frame of the “Old 28.”

[Upgrade countdown: 04:59:59]

[04:59:58]

…

The apocalyptic night felt strangely quiet. Perhaps it was because all human industry had ceased, but the stars in the sky seemed denser, brighter than before.

If not for the occasional, stifled sobs drifting from the darkness, Chen Ye might have thought the world hadn’t changed at all.

The horizon began to glow with the faint, pale light of dawn.

A system notification jolted Chen Ye awake.

[Upgrade complete!]