Apocalypse: I Can Upgrade Everything

Chapter 198: Human Bait

Life by the lakeside was surprisingly pleasant—in a grim sort of way.

Aside from the strict standing order that no ordinary survivor approach the water’s edge, the atmosphere was almost leisurely. The ethereal spectacle of the previous night would remain burned into their memories forever. Before the apocalypse, such a sight would have been impossible to witness outside of a big-budget cinema.

In his official log, Captain Chu Che had recorded the glowing entities as “Fairies.” After a moment’s deliberation, he amended the entry to Butterfly Fairy. They resembled the sprites of ancient folklore and modern fantasy too closely to be called anything else. Naturally, the location was christened Fairy Lake.

Chu Che’s pen scratched across the paper of his notebook:

March 18, 2025. We have cleared Fog City and traveled approximately 62 miles (100 km) to reach Fairy Lake.

Location: Southeast of Fog City.

Observation: The lake is visually stunning, possessing a distinct blue-green hue. Vegetation at the shoreline is lush, exhibiting pre-apocalypse levels of vibrancy.

Threat Assessment: The waters contain massive predatory fish. High lethality. One survivor confirmed KIA during initial contact.

Anomaly Activity: Butterfly Fairy sightings occur post-dusk.

Biological Profile: These entities appear to be manifestations of the lake water itself. They possess lepidopteran wings and humanoid bodies, standing roughly 4 inches (10 cm) tall. Wings are bioluminescent.

Behavioral Note: Butterfly Fairies exhibit a preference for individuals with “pure” or “simple” dispositions. They actively shun those harboring malice or a history of ruthlessness.

Chu Che paused, a frown creasing his brow. He felt a prickle of irritation. He didn’t consider himself a “ruthless” man. Sure, he had made cold, calculated decisions to ensure the convoy’s survival, but he had kept the majority of them alive, hadn’t he?

Despite his annoyance at being rejected by the sprites, he maintained his professional integrity and recorded the facts. His irritation only deepened when he looked over at Chen Ye. The kid seemed completely unfazed by the fairies’ blatant loathing of him.

Chen Ye is a cynical, wicked brat, Chu Che thought. He deserves to be shunned. But me? Why was I left in the ‘vacuum zone’?

He shook off the frustration. The notebook might look like a common ledger, but its contents—the gathered intelligence on this new, broken world—were of immeasurable value.

Chen Ye watched the Captain scribbling away from a distance. He knew exactly what the man was doing and had no intention of interrupting his “bureaucracy.” Today, the Sequence Beyonders had work to do.

They had seen the monsters lurking in Fairy Lake the night before. Most of the survivors had tasted the smaller specimens and declared the meat a delicacy. Consequently, Xue Nan had proposed a plan: harvest the lake’s giants and produce smoked fish for their long-term supplies.

In this world, food was the ultimate currency. No one complained about a surplus. With a massive convoy expected to arrive soon, having high-quality rations for trade was a strategic necessity.

“Consider it done!” Iron Lion boomed, slapping his massive chest.

Chen Ye didn’t protest. The pink-haired girl and Ding Dong also fell into line. While the superhumans focused on the water, the ordinary survivors were organized by Xue Nan to forage for firewood beyond the protective perimeter. Chu Che had granted them a strict window: 10:30 AM to 3:00 PM. Not a minute later.

The survivors marched out with a motley collection of “weapons”—shovels, fire axes, and sledges salvaged from their journey. Chen Ye ignored them, turning his focus to the lake.

During the bioluminescent bloom the previous night, he had glimpsed the true scale of the inhabitants. The “small” ones were over 10 lbs; the true masters of the deep likely weighed half a ton or more. Chen Ye didn’t expect those behemoths to be “friendly.”

As for fishing… they didn’t have rods, and even if they did, no carbon-fiber pole would hold a thousand-pound predator.

“Iron Lion, what’s the play?” Chen Ye asked, glancing at the mountain of a man.

Iron Lion gave a toothy, simple-minded grin. “No plan. I’m just strong. And I can take a hit.”

What does ‘taking a hit’ have to do with fishing? Chen Ye wondered.

The answer came quickly. Iron Lion tied a thick, heavy-duty rope around his waist—a cable Old Li had scavenged from the roof of the school bus. It was a makeshift tow line, now repurposed as a fishing leader.

The “bait” was Iron Lion himself.

The other end of the rope was gripped by a dozen nervous male survivors. Chen Ye watched with a mix of awe and cynical judgment. Is this really how we’re doing this?

Iron Lion waded into the crystal-clear water, his massive frame resembling a pylon. He stirred the shallows, sending ripples outward. When the water reached his waist, he stopped and began violently slapping the surface with his palms, creating a rhythmic, splashing commotion.

“Is he serious?” the pink-haired girl muttered.

Ding Dong stood nearby, her tranquil eyes fixed on the man in the water. She seemed to sense a gaze and glanced back. A survivor quickly looked away, trembling as they pretended to be busy. Ding Dong didn’t dwell on it, turning back to the lake.

Iron Lion kept slapping, his eyes scanning the depths. Fear was a foreign concept to him now. Ever since he had ascended the Titan Sequence, his intellect had dimmed, and with it, his capacity for terror had withered away.

There.

A massive, dark shadow was gliding through the translucent water. Because Fairy Lake was so clear, Iron Lion could see the charcoal-gray mottled patterns on its back, the thick, fleshy whiskers at the corners of its mouth, and a pair of small, glinting eyes filled with ancient malice.

Iron Lion felt his blood begin to boil. Steady… steady… just let it lunge.

The shadow flickered, the surface rippled, and for a heartbeat, the fish vanished. Then, the water exploded.

A gargantuan black fish—or something that looked like one—erupted from the depths. It was a nightmare of scales and muscle, easily thirty feet (10 meters) long. It breached the surface, its cavernous, pitch-black maw aimed directly at Iron Lion’s torso.

Chen Ye’s eyes widened. Holy hell.

“Come on then!” Iron Lion roared.

The fish snapped its jaws, intending to crush the man and drag him into the abyss. But as the maw closed, Iron Lion’s hands—thick as hydraulic presses—clamped onto the creature’s upper and lower lips. He drove his fingers deep into the cold, slimy flesh, anchoring himself.

The sheer momentum of the strike slammed into Iron Lion, dragging him under. The impact was like a depth charge detonating at the shore, sending a wall of white spray into the air.

Iron Lion wasn’t weaker than the fish, but the lakebed was silt and mud. He had no leverage. He disappeared into a chaotic swirl of foam and blood.

Waves crashed against the shore as two titans battled beneath the surface. The water turned turbid as the monstrous fish thrashed, trying to shake the parasitic human from its mouth. It was a futile effort.

“Don’t just stand there!” Chen Ye shouted to the men on the rope. “Pull!”