I'm Fighting Kal'tsit? Seriously?

The moment he disguised himself as Rusthammer and attacked the waystation, quite a few people had already hurriedly started their vehicles and fled. Before the Catastrophe truly arrived, he had to get some of them to turn around and evacuate in the direction of the epicenter, lest they be completely unprepared when it struck.

Angelina's Originium Arts might help with evacuating the crowd, but when speed was what mattered, it had to be him.

In an instant, Gerald's figure became an afterimage and vanished before Angelina's eyes, as though he had never been there at all.

The Vulpo girl froze for a moment before abruptly coming to her senses. She shouted in confusion, "W-wait—! I... I still don't know where the epicenter is!"

But the only answer she received was the gentle sound of the wind and a figure rapidly fading into the distance.

She stood there blankly for a moment, then hurriedly turned her gaze back to the soldier before her. "Ah, right!"

Urgency filled Angelina's voice as she quickly pointed toward the clouds overhead and asked at a rapid pace, "You're a Catastrophe messenger, right? Was that signal flare yours? Can you come evacuate people with us? There are still lots of people trapped near the waystation. We have to—"

"I'm not a Catastrophe messenger."

The [Soldier] spoke briefly but firmly. She removed her helmet, revealing the Feline features beneath.

A few freckles dotted the tip of her nose, while her unusual violet eyes made it hard to look away. Her features were soft; she should have possessed the gentle warmth of a girl next door, yet an incongruous fissure had been violently carved into that face... The killing intent had torn apart the illusion of meekness, leaving her with a contradiction, a sense of rupture that could only have been kneaded into shape by death itself.

But what drew the eye most wasn't the hatred churning in her gaze. It was the fragment of Originium that seemed almost embedded in her right eye.

She was merely an Infected.

"You're Infected too. You know how these scum treat us."

"They isolate us in one place and won't let us pass through the waystation. They force us to struggle for survival in the wilderness, until we become Rusthammer's prey." The [Soldier] gritted her teeth, suppressing the hatred buried deep within her for so long. "Catastrophe messenger? The Catastrophe messenger is already dead. My friend died by this man's hand."

"This is all just what they call 'Columbia's interests.'"

Angelina didn't know when the other's Originium Arts had been activated.

But by the time she realized it, the target wasn't her—it was the commander in the powered armor behind them.

The once-solid concrete ground had cracked apart at some point. Strands of emerald vines burst from the earth and grew madly in an instant. The plants writhed and climbed like living things, winding around the shattered powered armor before lashing directly around the commander's limbs and neck.

The vines tightened further and further, ignoring the metal restraints around the powered armor as they forcibly dragged him out of that heavy steel shell.

The sound of shattering bones rang clearly through the air. Accompanied by the horrible tearing of flesh, his body was forcibly pulled from the cramped interior of the powered armor, like a puppet being skinned and dismembered.

This is awful.

Angelina's stomach suddenly cramped. She instinctively took a step back, forcefully suppressing the nausea rising in her throat.

She shouldn't have stayed here. She should have been evacuating people, searching for clues about the Catastrophe's epicenter... Why had she stopped?

The epicenter... right, the epicenter. She needed to ask where it was.

Just as Angelina was about to speak, the scene before her changed again.

Even under such cruel torment, the commander showed no sign of passing out. Like a beast staring stubbornly at its hunter even as death approached, he was on the brink of unconsciousness, yet the vines piercing his body through the agony still forced him to retain the last remnants of awareness.

He narrowed his bloodshot eyes and stared fixedly at the [Soldier] using her Originium Arts. Though blood smeared the corners of his mouth, he still dragged his ruined body forward and used the last of his strength to spit viciously at her.

Spittle mixed with blood hit the ground.

The Feline woman tilted her head slightly, easily avoiding the insulting spit, her expression completely unchanged.

—The next moment, her fingers tightened again.

Plant roots grew wildly like thorns, completely enveloping the commander and winding around his body without leaving a single gap, as though they intended to devour him whole.

The Originium fragment on her face trembled slightly, its light growing ever more intense, as though responding to the fury boiling within her.

"I'm laughing at how pitiful you are..." The commander struggled for breath. His cheeks had already rotted from his injuries, his beard and flesh peeling away piece by piece with the blood, but even so, his expression retained that disgusting calmness.

"Do you know why I hate you Infected?" He showed a vague smile, as though mocking her, or passing judgment from above. "Do you know how many Infected in Columbia choose suicide every year, trying to take revenge on society that way?"

"Every time I see Columbia pass laws concerning the Infected, I feel sick... It's as if the families harmed by people like you were never part of this country. As if the pain of parents who lost their children could simply end with time... Ridiculous."

He coughed violently, seemingly trying to adjust into a more comfortable position, but his broken spine made even the simplest movement impossible.

"If I were you, I'd end my life without hesitation." The commander spoke viciously. "At least then, before my family, I wouldn't be a burden. I wouldn't be a living bomb that could explode at any time... I wouldn't die selfishly while ignoring the later Infected indirectly killed by you!"

"Shut up!"

The [Soldier]'s rage ignited in an instant. Her chest rose and fell violently, her fists clenched tight, and the Originium fragment at her temple grew faintly hot with anger.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, then asked in a low voice, "Where is his body?!"

The commander licked the blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. His breathing was gradually weakening, but he still maintained that unhurried attitude. "Beneath the main watchtower."

"He truly thought this was just an ordinary waystation... But think about it. In Columbia's wilderness, who would favor a stronghold that stayed safe most of the time and collected handling fees?"

His expression gradually dimmed, as though he truly felt a trace of regret over it.

"Only arms dealers, the military, private corporations... So someone above named a price and had a massive amount of Originium constructs piled here. They wanted to create an artificial Catastrophe and flip over this table everyone was eating from."

"That way, there wouldn't be any evidence left to trace... aside from the Catastrophe messenger and the official communications we intercepted. If Blacksteel really came looking for clues afterward, something might be exposed somewhere. So, just in case, we had to eliminate every possibility."

His broken spine left him unable to move. Even the slightest tremble took immense effort. Yet he still struggled to open his eyes and look straight into the [Soldier]'s, revealing a faintly pitying smile.

"His duty was to warn of Catastrophes, while mine was to make one descend here."

"So your friend died by my hand."

"He was a decent man, an upright Catastrophe messenger with convictions... But I won't apologize to you, Infected."

"A Columbia soldier is worth the most only when he's completed his mission, and when he's dead. My compensation will go where it should, along with the pay for completing my mission, so I can die without worries and leave the money to others... But you can't, can you?"

"I wish for you—all of you—to go to hell with me."

Then, the violent plants twisted and grew like living creatures.

They crawled up from the ground, frantically drilling between his flesh. Sharp vine thorns mercilessly pierced his shoulders, locking down his final struggle. Blood seeped from the wounds, spreading broad patches of dark red across his uniform.

His spine could no longer endure such torture. With a crisp crack of bone, the vines dragged his body into an unnatural twist. His limbs gradually lost their normal shape, and even his internal organs were crushed out of form.

Yet the vines wrapped around him still did not stop. They continued tightening inward until finally—

Squelch.

Branches accompanied by a ripping sound pierced out through his back, carrying scarlet blood and scattered fragments of organs as they dripped steadily onto the ground.

The commander's body twitched once, and an indescribable choking sound escaped his throat. Then his eyes gradually lost focus, his body completely slackening as the vines suspended him high in the air.

Angelina stared at the scene of blood and violence before her, but it felt as though she had been nailed firmly to the ground. She couldn't utter a single word.

This was the end of it all.

That was what she told herself.

The day she became Infected, her school expelled her.

Siracusa no longer welcomed her. To avoid dragging her parents down with her, she fled Siracusa, fled her family, and had to face pursuit from them every day.

Yet one day, a messenger helped her temporarily escape that pursuit and asked her to deliver a letter. As payment, she received a whole handful of candy that day.

So she became a messenger. She began personally setting foot in every corner of this land, from Siracusa to Victoria, to Ursus, to Rhodes Island, to Leithanien... and then to Columbia.

She had traveled to many places and seen many smiling faces.

She had also seen many people who hated her, who hated the Infected.

Just as in the city where she was born, she was rejected and driven away.

But Miss Messenger had never personally witnessed such unmistakable malice—malice so clear that even something like murder would seem as ordinary as a breeze beside it.

Under the name of the nation called "Columbia," this opposition and malice were multiplying. The more those at the top treated everyone equally as tools for making money, the more they turned contradictions into divisions between different people. In the end, those divisions would widen into impassable chasms, tearing groups apart completely.

Infected and non-Infected, capital and labor, military and civilians, pioneers and settlers... She was no longer merely facing the malice between two individuals.

She was witnessing Columbia's malice.

What should she say? What should she do? Should she fight against this man-made Catastrophe? And after it ended, should she wait for Columbia's officials to discover the traces she had left in these events and secretly erase her to ensure nothing went wrong?

Silently, she watched the [Soldier]'s back as she walked, step by agonizingly slow step, toward the main watchtower.

Then she moved.

Her body was lighter than the wind. The instant the staff in her hand was activated, she had already reached the Feline girl's side—then, amid the other's almost astonished expression, she forcibly locked her in a hold from behind and immediately shot into the sky.

"—What are you doing?! Let go of me!!"

The [Soldier] had never imagined someone would lift her from the ground. She struggled desperately, but soon realized her body had somehow gone limp. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the strength flowing from Angelina's body.

Her movements quickly stopped.

Because at that moment, her head was being held against someone's chest.

At her right eye, which was nearly losing its sight, droplets of water fell onto the faintly heated Originium fragment, blooming into crystalline flowers.

Beneath the Catastrophe

The countdown heralding the Catastrophe was about to end.

Though less than five minutes had passed since the conversation between the commander and the soldier, a Catastrophe would not wait for those with lingering obsessions to fulfill them. It would only arrive silently beneath everyone's feet, spreading the majesty of destruction across the land in the instant others were caught unprepared.

Thus, the moment the crimson cloud cover split open, the earth veins gave a muffled sound like an animal's cavity bones breaking.

From beyond the horizon came a sound like the wail of some colossal beast.

Angelina gripped the Feline's right hand, hovering dozens of meters in the air at her waist. Without nearly any hesitation, she rushed toward the waystation's entrance, then quickly stopped short and sped in another direction.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of flowers of death blooming across the land—from the southeast, countless ghostly green crystal clusters were erupting outward along spiderweb-like fissures, about to spread to the earth beneath them. The waystation's alloy supports twisted under the gnawing growth of the crystals into grotesque sculptures, while shattered steel frames resembled gaping mouths pulled open in silent screams toward the sky.

"Hold on to my hand!"

As she spoke, she clamped her staff sideways between her teeth and tightened both arms around the suddenly quiet Feline, holding her securely.

The storm roared beside her ears, and the terror of the Catastrophe crushed against her heart. Yet before her tears could fall, the gale had already torn them apart completely.

Under such extreme pressure, her body surpassed its original limits. Guided by her staff, the radiance of anti-gravity burst forth, faint light weaving into a flowing barrier that carried them away from the collapsing ground and higher into the sky.

As the strength in her body gradually drained away, the sight before Angelina warped and stretched. She could barely keep her eyes open, but she could still make out the scene ahead.

The earth heaved visibly. Sleeping rock strata were torn apart, trembling violently like a tablecloth yanked up by some declaration, while a fifty-meter limestone cliff rose from the ground in an instant.

Rows of military trucks rolled off the rising ground like blocks scattered by children. Explosions ignited in an instant, flames soaring skyward, but just as the wild fire rose into the air, it was devoured completely by the madly growing crystal clusters. Once the firelight faded, only active Originium dust remained drifting through the air.

The border of hell continued spreading across the earth, and the shadow of death silently covered the survivors' heads.

But compared to what Angelina had seen while helping evacuate the people from the waystation earlier, the situation was undoubtedly much better now—because nearly everyone at the waystation had already been evacuated.

That was good news. During her flight, she could no longer see anyone in the waystation who had failed to escape in time.

That gentleman's act of posing as a Rusthammer soldier and invading had greatly relieved the pressure. Most pioneer team members who had originally planned to enter the waystation had chosen to leave early out of fear of Rusthammer, clearly easing the congestion at the exit.

Her gaze passed over the chaotic crowd and collapsing ground, sweeping toward the flood of people evacuating the waystation according to guidance in the distance. The terrified masses either rode packbeasts or clung to vehicles, densely gathering into a torrent fleeing toward the horizon.

Among them, two familiar figures were busily weaving through the crowd, maintaining order and directing the last group of people who had yet to leave.

Most of them were travelers with disheveled clothing and bewildered expressions. They had mostly been jolted awake from their midday rest by the signal flare. Before they could fully emerge from sleep, they were shoved through the clamor and chaos toward an unknown destination.

Some had only barely thrown on their coats, their buttons still undone, before someone grabbed them by the collar and dragged them from their rooms; some had not even put on shoes, running barefoot across ground covered in dust and gravel; several were even wrapped only in blankets, staring blankly at everything around them without any idea what was happening, until someone seized their wrists and forcibly pulled them back from the edge of danger.

But the situation was still worsening.

Though Provence and Saria were gathering the waystation's people together in the distance as best they could to prepare for escape, the soldiers who had once been as scattered as sand were now each driving vehicles and taking on people from the waystation—whether they had chosen to do so under coercion or out of genuine kindness was hard to say, but the breath of the Catastrophe was still sweeping across the land at a terrifying speed, relentlessly pursuing them from behind.

The ground's tremors grew more violent. Rubble tumbled down and cracks spread endlessly, threatening to mercilessly swallow those unsteady on their feet amid the fleeing crowd.

It was two pioneer team members. They had been gripping the roof of a vehicle tightly, using its jolting movement to maintain their balance, but a sudden violent tremor made one of them slip. He fell heavily from the roof, hit the ground, and rolled several times. A companion on another vehicle behind him tried to reach out and grab him, only to be thrown over by the sudden impact as well. Still holding a rope in his hand, he dragged down several pioneers hanging from the rear of the vehicle with him.

The roar was deafening, dust and shattered rocks flying everywhere. Amid the sudden chaos, Angelina's figure abruptly accelerated, diving toward the ground like a meteor—such a reckless move even made the Feline she held freeze for a moment.

Light flared atop the staff. Angelina used every ounce of her dwindling power, attempting to reverse gravity and lift the fallen people into the air.

But her overstrained body had already reached its limit. An uncontrollable exhaustion surged through every limb, as though a great weight were pressing against her chest, while a metallic sweetness rose deep in her nose.

Blood slid from the corner of her lips.

Just as she was about to collapse, the Feline soldier in her arms suddenly moved.

Several verdant vines burst wildly from the ground, wrapping around the fallen people. The resilient vines supported their bodies, preventing them from being swallowed by the advancing chasm. They tried to lift them higher, hoping Angelina's Originium Arts could affect their gravity when released at close range.

But it was far from enough. The vines had limited carrying capacity; they couldn't fully take these people beyond the Catastrophe's range, nor could they drag them much closer to the sky.

Angelina knew that well. She was about to grit her teeth and activate her Originium Arts again... Just as she prepared to use the last trace of her strength to take the others away, a light wind suddenly rose behind her.