The towering gate was like a magistrate's dossier, opening a narrow crack.
Ice chips carried out by the breeze gleamed with a chill more sinister than steel.
Standing before the towering gate, the man in heavy exoskeleton armor stared wide-eyed at the scene before him. After a long while, he finally forced out half a sentence.
"Holy shit..."
Ice sculptures lay spread across the thousand-square-meter open space. The curled-up people pressed tightly against the ground, frozen in the posture they had held during their final second of life.
Some had their foreheads against the floor in prayer. Some huddled together. There were mothers and fathers clutching children, and families of three holding hands...
This was the hundredth underground floor of Shelter 100—the final floor. Its ceiling was the floor of the central atrium, while its floor was the bottom of the entire shelter.
Perhaps because it was the storage area, this was the tallest single floor in the whole shelter.
Ten-Fist Superman had thought he might find some treasure here, or at least some valuable junk. He had never expected to walk straight into a pile of corpses the moment the door opened.
This warehouse alone contained at least one or two thousand bodies, and there were several more warehouses like it.
Those were probably much the same...
His boots creaked against the ground.
Ten-Fist Superman unconsciously passed through the gap and entered the freezer, where the temperature was dozens of degrees below zero. He raised his flashlight and inspected the surroundings.
More than shock, he felt bewilderment. He muttered under his breath.
"...What exactly happened here?"
The player following him into the freezer crouched down, carefully examined the ice sculpture sprawled on the ground, and took a picture of the corpse's face.
A moment later, he reached a conclusion.