The rustling sound drew closer, and the beam of the flashlight caught something—Nathan Thompson's body tensed up, and now even Nathan Thompson could see it.

It was a man, dressed in a suit and tie, carrying a briefcase. His white shirt was a bit dirty, and his pant legs were caked with mud.

Judging by his attire, the man looked just like an office worker who had just gotten off work. Nancy Clark's flashlight moved upward, a round spot of light landing on the suited man's face.

Above the neck, there was no head—or rather, no human head.

Where the head should have been, there was a huge fish head, complete with cold, glistening scales.

A man in a suit, carrying a briefcase... a fish-man?

The fish-man's lips pointed upward. His fish mouth moved, and a dead fish eye, as big as a fist, stared at Nancy Clark. Even though he had no face, it somehow made people feel that this fish was exhausted.

"Excuse me..." the fish-man spoke, his voice a bizarre bubbling sound, "Is this where the last train on Line 1 stops?"

"Contaminant!" Nathan Thompson's face changed dramatically, and he instantly put on his helmet.

Nathan Thompson pressed the emergency button. "Reporting, there's a live contaminant, requesting unlock—shit!"

Nathan Thompson didn't even finish his sentence before the fish-man in the distance suddenly started waving his arms and charged at them at full speed.

Chapter 4 Contaminated Zone

103 District Cleaning Center, Technical Support Department.

A technician was eating chips, the screen in front of him showing the inside of Sewer A7 in District 103.

There had been an aquatic contamination outbreak here before. An hour ago, a demon hunter had already gone in. It was just an E-level mission, and the demon hunter finished it in twenty minutes.

Now it was the cleaners' turn. Cleaners—basically just the cleaning crew, what danger could there be?

All the technicians knew: when the demon hunters were working, you had to be on high alert; when the cleaning crew was working, it was the best time to slack off.

The technician munched on chips, typing messages to his girlfriend with one hand, occasionally glancing up at the screen.

Suddenly, he froze mid-bite, staring at the screen in disbelief. The contamination readings on the screen spiked sharply, forming a small peak.

Data glitch?

No, the numbers kept climbing—contamination concentration 30%, 40%, 50%... 70%!

D-level contamination zone. Six blood-red characters flashed repeatedly on the screen.

D-level? Wasn't it E-level?

Was this contamination zone misclassified from the start? The technician tossed his chips aside and typed furiously on the keyboard—the result was the same.

Still a D-level contamination zone.

This is bad. The technician shot to his feet. This is really bad. He quickly switched to the sewer camera feed—every cleaner's helmet had a camera so headquarters could monitor the situation.

The footage was shaky, the flashlight illuminating the depths of the sewer, revealing a fish-man contaminant. It really was a contaminant.

The technician quickly contacted the cleaning squad, but as soon as he opened the public channel, he heard a loud bang.

Someone had fired a shot.

...

District 103, Sewer A7.

"Reporting, there's a live contaminant, requesting unlock—shit!"

Nathan Thompson didn't even have time to finish his sentence—it was too fast. The fish-man moved with astonishing speed, and in the blink of an eye, was right in front of them.

"Authorization granted, you are cleared to fire!" Megan Carter's anxious voice came through the helmet.

Click—the weapon authorization was unlocked.

Bang!

At the exact moment authorization was granted, Nancy Clark pulled the trigger without hesitation, leaving the panicked Nathan Thompson momentarily stunned. The bullet shot out at high speed, hitting the fish-man square in the face. The impact snapped his head back a full 180 degrees.

Stillness.

The fish-man, who had been charging at them, froze in place for two seconds. Nancy Clark didn't dare relax. Was it dead?

"Hahahahahahaha—" a deep laugh came from the fish-man.

He slowly raised his head, the center of his fish eye blown out, his face torn apart and drenched in blood.

Still alive.

Headshot, but still alive. Nancy Clark immediately made the judgment in her mind. Not like zombies—zombies' weakness is the head; once it's destroyed, they lose all ability to move.

But the fish-man could still move after a headshot. In a way, it was very much like a real fish.

Nathan Thompson finally snapped out of it. He drew the gun from his lower back. After a year and a half as a cleaner, this was his first time seeing a live contaminant. His heart was pounding, and his hands shook as he tried to aim.

Nathan Thompson also raised his gun and fired.

Bang bang bang!

Nathan Thompson fired wildly—his aim was off, but the suppressive fire managed to slow the fish-man down. The fish-man's head had been blown apart by Nancy Clark, and one of his left legs was broken, dragging along the ground.

So tenacious—he was going to crawl toward them if he had to.

"Do... you... know... where... the last... train... on Line 1... is?" The fish-man, his fish head riddled with holes, crawled toward them on all fours like Sadako.

The fish-man tilted his neck, the scales on his head curling at the edges. "I can't make it... the last... la-la-la-la-last train..."

Nathan Thompson was losing his sanity points fast.

Bang!

Nancy Clark fired another shot. The fish-man jerked in place, then started twitching, like a frozen frame. "La-la-la-la-last train..."

Nancy Clark asked, "Is it dead?"

Nathan Thompson was still in shock, dazed. "I don't know."