Chaos sprouted without warning.
According to Central City's investigation, the first anomaly had appeared in an interrogation room at a South City police station. Beneath the stern, cold lights, the questioning officer sat expressionlessly, staring at the junkie across the table as he sniffled and yawned without end.
"I swear, I swear... it really wasn't me!"
The junkie pointed at heaven and earth, stammering out assurances even he did not believe. "I swear to God, if I really did it, then let my whole family die out, I, I..."
As he spoke, Viscous Blood Water began to seep from his mouth and nose.
His face went blank, then gradually twisted. He convulsed in terror and screamed as blood water surged forth like a flood, racing out from his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose, dyeing the entire interrogation room red. His shriveled corpse burst apart, turning everything into a nightmare.
He died.
But at the very instant he died, in the corners of South City, an elderly man on his last breath, a woman cooking dinner in her kitchen while fielding debt-collection calls, even children downstairs running and roughhousing—all of them, without warning, stopped breathing.
Then came a sudden, horrific car crash.
In the night of Rong Commandery, Empire, an explosion sounded. Fuel spilled from the smashed vehicles and erupted into a roaring blaze.
Curious onlookers craned their necks, only to see a figure wriggling within the flames.
Beneath the burning car, a shattered corpse suddenly twitched. A head, half of it already charred black, dangled from its shoulder as it wriggled, crawled, and rose to its feet.
The long-dead courier carried a mangled package in his hand. Staggering toward the crowd, he set off once more amid their screams.
Viscous phlogiston dripped from his body, still burning like winding tears.