The West City Ruins.
The ammunition depot's ongoing chain of explosions set the night sky ablaze, turning darkness into daylight.
Inside a crater a hundred meters across, a silver-white Mutant over ten meters tall roared at the sky. Like an enraged giant, it furiously hammered the wrecked tank beneath its feet.
Beneath the storefronts lining the street, Frank ran for his life with every ounce of strength he could muster, glancing back from time to time.
The creature had been distracted by the explosions and was no longer pursuing him.
Yet his lips still trembled uncontrollably. His mind was filled with the image of it grabbing a helicopter and crushing it into a cloud of bloody mist in midair.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!
Cursing inwardly, Frank's face twisted, his eyes filled with bitter resentment.
It felt as though the system had played a colossal joke on him.
According to the original plan, he should have been hiding in a secure bunker, controlling an entire army remotely. Like a king ruling over this world, he would have crushed the other team of examinees with a flick of his fingers, then stood in front of a screen and directed his forces to clear the scenario.
He had never imagined that the information about zombies they had broadcast would become the death knell of the world.
In just a few seconds, every soldier had turned into a zombie. The supposedly impregnable bunker had become a dungeon that nearly trapped him to his death.
He hadn't wanted to flee, but those monsters were merging.
Once over a thousand soldiers had fused into a Mutant comparable to a "Demon God," he had no choice but to run for his life.
As if that weren't enough, Frank glared furiously at his teammates behind him.
He hated them