He had no idea that in this state, he was like a porcelain vase that couldn’t withstand any hardship—just a gentle touch, and he would shatter.

In front of everyone, Ryan Bennett handed the bottled water to Claire Harris without the slightest psychological burden, his gaze clear: “Captain Harris, could you help me? I’m not feeling well.”

It was as if he had admitted his own fragility.

And a vase needs to be cared for.

Everyone: “……”

Damn.

The last guy who acted like this in front of Claire Harris probably already has grass growing on his grave.

Can’t even open a bottle cap—what kind of man is that!

But unexpectedly, Claire Harris just looked at him calmly for two seconds, then unscrewed the cap and handed it back: “Any findings?”

Ryan Bennett took a small sip of water and swallowed the pill in his mouth.

“I found the charging port for the administrator’s communicator in the drawer, and also discovered a video.”

Author’s note:

Ji · Fragile · Can’t open bottle caps · Human weapon · Yushi

Chapter 8

When Ryan Bennett played the video he found in the communicator, everyone felt a chill run down their spines.

The man in the video also showed the same symptoms as the homeless man and the administrator—gray, cloudy eyeballs, deathly pale skin covered in blue veins, and he was screaming that he wanted to bite his own wife.

“The video was recorded a month ago.”

Unlike everyone else’s obvious fear, Ryan Bennett’s tone was very calm.

He acted brave and mature, as if he wasn’t the same person who couldn’t even open a bottle cap just now.

“It’s zombies!!”

“If they really are zombies, how many of them must be out there!”

“No wonder this place is so weird!”

“And this video is from a month ago!”

Familiar words echoed in the office.

While his teammates discussed, Ryan Bennett silently took another sip of water, and that terrifying sense of powerlessness finally began to fade. He said slowly, “The communicator has no network, but I just received a new message. It should be for us.”

“The message is on the dead person’s communicator, but it’s meant for us?”

“Yes.”

“Open it.”

Said Claire Harris.

Ryan Bennett projected the message.

[Welcome, guardians from Xingyuan 1456, welcome to PU-31.]

[This jump is now locked. Unlock after mission success.]

[Mission mode: Ouroboros.]

[Mission rule: Death elimination.]

At that moment, Helen Ford shouted, “Look!!”

Outside the window, a black wall suddenly appeared between heaven and earth, spreading from the direction they had just come.

“Beep—” The communicator displayed one last line.

[Mission target: The Dark Chaser.]

Everyone was terrified.

Amid the commotion, Claire Harris found a broom, poked it into the black wall, and when he pulled it out, the part that had entered the wall had vanished, the break perfectly clean—as if the black wall had “eaten” it.

“What did the mission rules say again?”

“D-death elimination,” someone answered.

“As long as you know.” Claire Harris said sternly, “Hold on to your gear, and don’t let a single one of you die. We can’t go back anyway, so whatever this PU-31 is, we’ll face it.”

*

“What’s wrong with Consultant Bennett?”

Eric Morgan glanced back at Ryan Bennett, who was now walking in the middle of the team, posture upright, back straight, looking very silent—nothing like the person who’d been scared out of his wits by the corpse in the admin office just now.

On the private channel, Claire Harris sounded a bit absent-minded: “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Eric Morgan clicked his tongue and said, “Forget it, what if he asks me to open a bottle cap?”

Claire Harris’s tone subtly changed: “So?”

Plucking a tiger’s whiskers, Eric Morgan didn’t dare joke about the captain anymore: “Well, I’d still help him open it, of course. Helping teammates is our responsibility.”

Claire Harris commented, “Cut the crap.”

Eric Morgan said, “Actually, I just hope that when I write the report later, I can be a bit more positive, so our team’s rating doesn’t get dragged down by disharmony…”

Eric Morgan was still rambling on when Claire Harris suddenly stopped in his tracks and made a fist gesture.

“Wait.”

His voice sounded on the public channel.

Everyone looked ahead.

On the desolate, ruined, deserted city road, a group of people appeared.

It was late summer, and at 6 a.m., sunlight pierced through this forest of steel and concrete, casting a golden line across the charred asphalt.

That blinding light was like a dividing line, separating the world of the living from hell.

They were zombies.

They hadn’t noticed the small team quietly moving along the secluded path, and were focused on surrounding a bloody, mangled corpse, making excited “huh huh” noises in their throats, fighting over the meal like wild beasts.

Flesh, limbs, and organs were being torn apart, and the horrifying sounds of chewing echoed clearly in every team member’s ears from just seven or eight meters away.

“Ah!!!!”