The speed of the Ghoul horde was staggering. In a remarkably short window, guided by the tactical maneuvers of Lam Linh and Thien Anh, thousands of dark silhouettes flooded onto Thai Binh Street—right into the waiting territory of the One-Eyed Demons.
Without requiring any further intervention, the mere presence of these two natural enemies ignited a visceral bloodbath. Primal shrieks echoed through the ruins as the two monstrosities lunged to tear each other asunder. One had to admit, the creatures that rose after the Great Disaster possessed an almost pathological bloodlust; they knew nothing of fear, fighting with terminal ferocity even while sustaining mortal wounds.
The clash was catastrophic. The Ghouls held the advantage in velocity and razor-sharp claws, while the One-Eyed swarm overwhelmed them with sheer numbers and maws packed with needle-teeth.
Squelch! Rip! Crunch!
Fresh blood sprayed, and mangled flesh took flight. The cacophony of screams turned Thai Binh Street into a localized hell on earth. Due to the massive numbers involved, the battlefield quickly spilled into the surrounding blocks. Within minutes, the pristine white snow was stained a deep, bruised crimson with clotted gore and skeletal debris.
Watching the slaughter through the drone feed, Lam Linh shuddered slightly and turned to Thien Anh. "What is our next move?"
Thien Anh observed the fray for a moment before making a decisive call. "We're done for today. Let's head back. Let them finish each other off; we just need to leave the surveillance grid active."
Despite his dual physical mutations, the burden of hauling heavy ordinance and moving continuously through sub-zero temperatures all day had ground down Thien Anh's stamina. As night began to fall, the lethal risks of the frozen wasteland increased. He wasn't willing to gamble the team's lives for a bit of extra observation.
Lam Linh agreed wholeheartedly. Her hand was injured, and her physical reserves had long since hit their limit. The thought of returning to the warm bunker was currently her greatest desire.
Before stowing the gear, Thien Anh meticulously piloted the drone to a high vantage point to initiate a scent-masking protocol, neutralizing the smell of blood and fresh meat clinging to the rotors. This was a critical survival step to ensure the equipment didn't become a beacon for aerial mutated predators during the night.
Once the gear was packed, Thien Anh looked toward his two spirit beasts, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Ki, we're leaving. Moc, stop playing around—get over here!"
Thien Lang (Ki) was sprawled on the concrete, catching his breath, while Azure Sky (Moc) was swaying on a high branch. Hearing the call, they both scurried back.
Thien Lang asked softly, "Mission accomplished, Master?"
Thien Anh had already vaulted onto the wolf's back, pulling Lam Linh and Azure Sky up behind him. He gave a tired nod. "Yeah, it's done. We need to move before the light fails completely."
Thien Lang didn't waste another word. He took a calculated leap from the rooftop to a massive ancient tree nearby before landing on the ground. His movements were so fluid and practiced that those on his back felt almost no jarring impact. He swiftly led the group along their previous path back toward the bunker. Along the way, several nocturnal predators began to stir from their dens, but at Thien Lang's velocity, these obstacles were bypassed without incident.
…
One hour later.
The group arrived home. As the heavy bunker hatch sealed shut, a sense of absolute security finally washed over them. Everyone was drained to the bone; limbs felt like lead after a day spent dancing on the edge of death. Even a powerful mutated beast like Thien Lang panted heavily, collapsing onto the floor to rest.
While shedding his cumbersome tactical suit, Thien Anh looked at Lam Linh and asked quietly, "Do you have a nickname? Or a name you go by at home?"
Lam Linh, busy removing her gear, paused and offered a soft smile. "My colleagues usually call me Professor Lam, but I prefer people just call me Lam. Why do you ask?"
Thien Anh gave a small, rare chuckle, the coldness in his eyes softening. "Knowing a familiar name makes it easier to call out in the future. Go wash up and tend to your wound first. I'll handle the meal tonight."
Lam Linh looked at him in genuine surprise, her eyes shimmering with a sudden warmth. "Heh, you're actually quite the gentleman."
Thien Anh merely shrugged it off and headed for the kitchen. While Lam Linh showered and re-dressed her mangled hand, Thien Anh began prepping a simple but nutrient-dense dinner: a pot of steaming jasmine rice, bone broth stew, and savory braised pork. He also didn't forget to simmer a pot of minced meat congee for the two soldiers they had rescued from the military zone.
Just as the final dish was finished, Lam Linh stepped out of the bathroom. Her hair was still damp, and she was wrapped in a clean white robe. Thien Anh glanced over and said, "The congee for your friends isn't quite ready yet. Once you're dressed, keep an eye on it for me—leave it on a low simmer for about five more minutes and then turn it off."
Lam Linh smiled and nodded. "Understood. You go shower now before you catch a chill."
Thien Anh set down his knife and walked toward the bathroom, leaving the kitchen filled with the aroma of home-cooked food and the warmth of shared survival—the rarest light left in this dark age.