Apocalypse Hunter

**Chapter 2: Stone Sky**

The heavy metal gates creaked open as a group of terrified people surged inside. Towering flames consumed the sky, casting an ominous glow across the horizon, as if they had descended directly from the clouds.

Thick smoke and fire cut off all paths forward. Apart from the burning rubber tires and scattered flammable debris, it seemed that the only living being in sight was himself.

Turning his gaze, he saw a rugged-faced Eastern man and a delicate-featured Western woman staring nervously at him. They whispered to each other as the woman held him tightly, her trembling hands betraying her heartbeat, which pounded like a frightened deer.

Then everything blurred, as if a black veil had been pulled over his eyes.

Two pale faces stared down at him. The man’s face was strikingly similar to his own, as if cast from the same mold. The woman was beautiful, her golden curls and smooth skin glowing faintly. He tried to reach out and touch her, but his fingers refused to obey.

His body was lowered, and everything began to sway as he drifted away. Their figures grew smaller, disappearing into the distance.

No, it was he who was drifting away—carried along a river’s current.

The golden-haired woman wiped away tears, her gaze filled with sorrow, while the rugged man remained expressionless. There was no pity, no trace of emotion in his demeanor. His arm merely tightened around the woman’s trembling shoulders.

Why didn’t they fear the baby might struggle out of the basket and fall into the river?

Did they not know this black river was steeped in deadly radiation?

Or was this their intention—to murder their own child?

He always hated the cold, iron-hearted Eastern man who appeared in his dreams.

Even though he knew he was dreaming, the hatred always consumed him, leaving him thrashing and clawing as he awoke.

He had no idea what it all meant.

He had been raised by a stray, mutated mother wolf. It was her primal maternal instinct that gave him a second chance at life.

When that loving wolf mother fed him her milk—tainted with a mix of mutant virus and radiation—he instinctively understood that the meaning of survival had been etched into the rings of his life.

When he was five, the strong mother wolf left to hunt but never returned. Alone, he faced a strange and terrifying world. Fear, hunger, and danger filled his days from then on.

He had believed that the mother wolf—so different in form from himself—would one day return, dragging her injured body back to their den. But she never did.

He searched tirelessly, scouring a hundred-kilometer radius, but found nothing—not even a bone. The only proof of her death was the long, coarse gray fur he clutched tightly in his hand, which still bore her unique scent.

At age seven, he was taken in by a tiny base—so small it was but a pinprick on the vast wasteland’s map. Food was exchanged for heavy labor.

There, he learned language, mastered firearms, trained in close-quarters combat with blades, and, most importantly, learned to face humanity.

The cost was shocking. At just ten years old, he massacred the entire base. No one was spared, young or old, human or otherwise—all fell under his gun.

He believed he had gone mad during that time, entirely unable to control his bloodlust.

He continued wandering, a boy less than 1.5 meters tall roaming the desolate wilderness. Against all odds, he avoided becoming prey to mutant beasts, surviving through cunning, patience, and resilience learned from the wolves.

His survival code boiled down to one equation: blood + brutality = status.

Such was the reality of the world.

Years later, he grew into a strong, wild wolf.

Though he loathed the Eastern man from his dreams, he couldn’t help but choose a distinctly Eastern name for himself: Shi Tian.

He still remembered the name the base had given him—Arthur. “What a stupid name. It’s worse than a pet’s name from the Rose Era,” he had scoffed.

Shi Tian wore a camouflage uniform in muted gray-green tones, but no rank adorned his shoulders.

From the nose down, his face was obscured by a nano-material camouflage scarf, hiding his straight nose and stubbly chin.

Blood seeped from his muscular calves, poorly wrapped with messy white bandages from a botched attempt at first aid.

“Those little monsters sure have terrible noses. I’ve already dreamed several dreams, and they’re still crawling toward me like tortoises. My patience isn’t a piece of cake,” Shi Tian muttered as he cleaned his black sniper rifle.

His rifle was wrapped in strips of torn military nano-fabric, leaving Shi Tian’s uniform in tatters, flapping in the wind.

The gun glinted with a dark shine. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be a heavily modified Vz.58 sniper rifle issued during the Rose Era by the Czech government. Its 660mm barrel stood defiantly against the heat waves, a warning to anyone foolish enough to underestimate old-world weaponry.

Shi Tian’s right thigh was strapped with a black Desert Eagle pistol, while his left held a silver six-shot revolver. Every weapon was fully loaded.

Finally, a stench of decay wafted in from his six o’clock.

The heat waves flowed in from the same direction, carrying the sun’s oppressive ultraviolet rays. These conditions slowed the creatures pursuing him, making it harder for them to track his scent against the wind.

Even in the Cactus Era, top-tier hunters would wisely abandon their prey under such unfavorable conditions, no matter how advanced their tracking gear.

Shi Tian respected the creatures’ persistence but sneered, “Foolish beasts.”

He admired their sharp noses, but fortunately, God had not granted them sufficient intelligence.

“Time for the show. Watch me perform,” Shi Tian muttered, spitting on the ground.

Swiftly unwrapping the unsightly red-and-white bandages from his leg, he revealed a wound still embedded with shrapnel. The jagged injury seemed to spit the metal out as if expelling a foreign seed. Within moments, the wound began healing at an astonishing speed. Seconds later, even the scar disappeared.

Shi Tian grinned, satisfied with his body’s self-repairing abilities. As long as he protected his heart and brain, he could afford to ignore other injuries. He wouldn’t die so easily.

The bandages and blood had merely been bait to lure the beasts closer.

C12 Base was likely already overrun. Once he eliminated the remaining hundred or so creatures, his mission would be complete. A perfect plan.

Shi Tian moved with the agility of a monkey, silently perching behind a pile of ruins. Resting his rifle on a groove in the wall, he aimed at the vast, prairie-like expanse ahead.

The young man had removed his camouflage scarf. A coarse, oversized cigar now hung from his mouth, its end emitting a faint trail of smoke. The pungent aroma wafted through the ruins.

Despite the smoke, his vision remained unobstructed. His right eye gleamed with an intense golden light, as if waiting for his pupils to split into two, calculating every hit point with mechanical precision.

“Roar!” A creature bellowed, and the entire pack turned toward the ruins two kilometers away. In the ultraviolet light, a faint wisp of white smoke betrayed human presence.

In an instant, the creatures charged at 50 meters per second.

A life-or-death battle was about to begin!