War Beyond the Obelisk

The fourteen-thousand-and-sixth guest of the Gate of Eternal Night faded away into parts unknown. Paradise remained as glittering and clamorous as it had been on the day I first arrived. Countless people came and went, while countless more departed only to return. Like me, many had already begun to regard this temporary haven as home. Across endless worlds, one had endless time to search for a place to belong. Alas, very few ever found one. —Klaros At dusk, within the Tower of Genesis The stench of blood drifted beneath the low-hanging sky. Muffled, turbid noises rolled in from every direction. Beneath the heavens lingered an atmosphere of decay, as though the world itself had begun to rot. A zombie siege. An army of the dead had encircled humanity’s last stronghold. The human forces stood in battle formation. Helicopters hovered overhead, tanks formed the front line, and infantry waited behind them. At the center stood the fortress itself, a solitary island stranded in the heart of a storm. Ahead, everything was silent. Even the sound of breathing seemed to have vanished. Then, amid that sepulchral stillness, a thoroughly defeated voice muttered: “We’re done.” “Toast.” “Dead meat.” “We’re never getting out of here.” The speaker was a fat man with a head polished to a mirrorlike shine. He stood atop a tank, binoculars raised as he stared into the distance. The whole world looked dim and oppressive, yet there he was at the forefront of the formation, his magnificently barren scalp shining like the last remaining source of light beneath the darkened sky. Someone edged closer to him. “C-Captain,” the man stammered. “Didn’t you say zombie scenarios were your specialty?” Another teammate chimed in. “You said cutting off zombie heads was just like splitting watermelons.” “Thin-skinned, perfectly ripe watermelons, you said.” The bald captain’s voice began to tremble as well. “L-Look at them!” He raised one shaking hand and pointed ahead. “You call those zombies? That’s a goddamn undead apocalypse!” A violet-black tide of corpses was slowly advancing toward them. Their flesh had putrefied into discolored sludge. Half-desiccated organs dangled beneath exposed rib cages. Creatures like these were common enough in zombie scenarios—but these had undergone additional mutations. Worse, they had evolved a leader. Everyone turned their attention toward the center of the horde. A colossal monster was moving there, slow and inexorable. It was nearly as large as the entire human fortress, like a mountain range that had uprooted itself and begun walking across the earth. With every step it took, the ground trembled faintly beneath its weight. This was the zombie overlord the human scientists had named Black Satan. Since the emergence of their leader, the zombies’ combat capabilities had risen to a terrifying degree. Humanity’s front lines had been forced back again and again, until at last they had reached their present position. Black Satan was unquestionably the military’s greatest concern. Unfortunately, it was not the only one. “Any sign of Entity A1407?” the bald captain asked. The teammate to his right continued scanning through a pair of binoculars. “Not yet. Still searching.” Another teammate worked at a display screen. The image was frozen on a close-up of Black Satan. Upon the monster’s mountainous shoulder stood a blurred silhouette, vaguely humanoid in shape. It was one of several anomalous images captured by reconnaissance aircraft over the past few months. After extensive comparison, analysts had confirmed that the indistinct figure had appeared near Black Satan on multiple occasions. It had also been sighted deep within zombie-controlled territory, materializing and disappearing like a ghost. Its range of movement was enormous. Its behavior matched neither that of an ordinary zombie nor that of a human being. More troubling still, the available evidence suggested that it could exert control over other entities. Humanity’s scientists had treated the discovery as a grave threat. They designated it Entity A1407 and suspected it to be the second highly intelligent specimen to emerge after Black Satan. They had yet to discover a way to kill the first colossal monster, and now a second potential leader had evolved. Disaster had found a way to compound itself. “This is way too hard.” One of the teammates stared blankly ahead. “But… didn’t we have a really good plan?” “We did.” The bald captain’s voice had taken on a faintly distant quality. “We even hired outside help. We were supposed to divide into two teams. We’d hold back the horde with the mighty Yu Feichen, while Xia Sen helped the base develop a vaccine. Then we’d win the defensive battle, complete the mission flawlessly, and return to Paradise for our rewards.” He paused. “That was a good plan, wasn’t it?” “Too bad our god-tier carry got deleted at the opening bell.” “The zombies didn’t just kill him. They practically scattered his ashes.” “So that was the legendary, top-dollar Yu Feichen? Hah. I don’t want to live anymore.” “And now the zombies have evolved.” “The base also discovered that the entire vaccine project was based on the wrong theory.” “Our precious Xia Sen got carried off by a flying zombie, virus sample and all.” “The whole plan went straight to hell, Captain.” “We’re finished, Captain.” “Yeah, Captain.” “What do we do now, Captain?” “Shut up!” A muscle twitched in the captain’s face. “Every time I hear the name Yu Feichen, my blood pressure goes through the roof. I have never met a more unreliable bastard in my entire—” A shrill, piercing cry cut him off. Alarms began to roar. At the front of the formation, a military helicopter had descended too low. Its rotor collided head-on with a zombified bird. Smoke and flame erupted from the fuselage as the aircraft spun through the air, trailing a black arc across the sky before plunging toward the ground. Boom— The first cannon blast illuminated the dark horizon. A heartbeat later, rifles and artillery thundered in unison. Smoke billowed across the battlefield. The battle had begun. The bald captain let out a furious roar and reached for the enormous siege mortar beside him. The weapon, however, was far too heavy. Even his abnormally powerful build could not manage it. Halfway through his battle cry, the roar veered abruptly into a strangled, “f**k!” With a deafening clang, the mortar crashed back onto its mounting cradle. The captain calmly checked the ammunition feed, lowered the targeting scope, and looked ahead with such perfect composure that one might have believed nothing had happened. “How are we supposed to fight this?” a teammate demanded. The situation was apparently too dire for anyone to laugh at what they had just witnessed. “Based on my many years of experience dominating zombie scenarios,” the captain declared, “any gigantic monster that looks completely indestructible must have a fatal weak point.” He adjusted the targeting scope. “Remember my seven-word creed: Just keep firing until dumb luck wins.” No one believed a word of his nonsense. His teammates continued to tremble. “What are you afraid of?” the captain roared as he climbed back inside the tank. “Worst case, we wipe and get thrown out! This isn’t the Gate of Eternal Night!” The last of his words disappeared beneath the deafening artillery fire. Still, they seemed to have reassured everyone. His teammates steadied themselves and resumed operating their stations. The tank’s upper hatch slammed shut. Its treads bit into the earth, propelling the vehicle forward and deeper into the zombie horde. It was an exceptionally dangerous maneuver. But with the situation deteriorating by the second, they had no other choice. “Stay alert for A1407,” the captain told the crew. “Just knowing that thing is still out there—and that it hasn’t shown itself yet—is giving me a very bad feeling.” “Understood,” a teammate replied. The compartment shuddered. Zombie creatures and scattered chunks of flesh struck the tank’s armored shell again and again. The muffled impacts carried through the steel like the beat of a distant, funereal drum. “Contact on the right!” Through the gray-white smoke, where visibility had fallen almost to nothing, a fifteen-foot zombie brute slammed into the tank’s side. Steel plating shrieked under the impact. The entire vehicle nearly overturned. The crew responded quickly. As the beast stepped back to gather strength for a second charge, an armor-piercing shell blasted through its neck. The interception was successful. “We’re starting to get overwhelmed,” one teammate said. “Still, it’s not quite as bad as I expected. I thought we’d get wiped at the starting line too.” He turned around. The captain was staring fixedly at the external display, muttering under his breath. “No… something’s wrong.” “Something’s definitely wrong,” said another teammate, who was watching the same screen. “Something’s wrong,” a third voice echoed. “Are you all broken voice recorders?” the captain snapped. His patience with them had reached its limit. “No, this is genuinely abnormal,” someone finally explained. “A portion of the zombies are completely passive. They aren’t attacking at all. That’s why we haven’t been under as much pressure as we expected.” “The one at ten o’clock looks like it’s frozen.” “There are two more at one o’clock.” Everyone followed the directions. At one o’clock, two pallid corpses stood with their heads hanging low. When the zombie tide shifted, they drifted along with it, carried by the movement of the crowd. But they did nothing else. They did not bite. They did not lunge. They did not feed. Across the battlefield, there were far more zombies in the same state than anyone had realized. The captain’s brow slowly furrowed. When he spoke again, his voice had deepened. “Open the hatch. I’m going up for a look.” As though the n***d eye might reveal something an electronic display could not, he leaned halfway out of the top of the tank and raised his binoculars. The color gradually drained from his face. “No… no, this isn’t right.” “What isn’t right?” “I’ve seen this before,” the captain said. “A long time ago, in another zombie scenario. The creatures fell under their leader’s direct control and began undergoing a second-stage mutation.” His voice shook at the end, as if the memory itself had seized him by the throat. “We almost lost the entire team in that scenario.” Then he suddenly bellowed: “Cease fire! All units, defensive readiness! Communications, patch me through to Central Command! Increase surveillance on the overlord!” He whirled toward the crew. “Black Satan can’t do this. Where’s the team searching for A1407? Surveillance officer!” “W-We still haven’t found it…” “What do I keep you around for?” The captain snatched up the communicator and opened a channel to Central Command. “Cease fire! Prepare defensive formations!” Still shouting into the device, he glared furiously down into the tank. Then he met the eyes of his teammates. They were staring up at him. Their eyes were stretched wide, their expressions vacant with shock, as though something behind him had frightened every thought from their minds. For one strange instant, the artillery seemed to fall silent. Under those stares, the captain shivered. An icy sensation crept down his back. “What are you gawking at?” He forced a dry laugh. “This isn’t a horror scenario.” Even as he spoke, some instinct made him begin to turn. A faint pressure settled upon his shoulder. It felt like a hand. A hand had gently come to rest there. The captain’s movement stiffened. Zombies were incapable of gestures as distinctly human as tapping someone on the shoulder. Holding on to that thought, he shifted his eyes toward his right shoulder. There was, in fact, a hand resting there. From his limited angle, he could see only the middle, ring, and little fingers. It was a human hand. More precisely, it was the hand of a man. The nails were neat. The fingers were long, with sharply defined joints. The skin, however, was far too pale. Beneath it, faintly visible veins showed an ominous blue-violet hue—the unmistakable coloration of the undead. And there was something else. The captain could hear no breathing behind him. A dreadful possibility flashed through his mind. There was a zombie standing at his back. One of his hands had already closed around the hilt of the cold-steel combat knife at his waist. Forcing himself to remain calm, he continued turning. His field of vision widened. A long, pale index finger came into view. Around it was a familiar, slender black ring. Every member of their team wore one. The captain froze. At that moment, a voice came through the communicator. It was Central Command. “Report the anomaly and your reason for ordering a cease-fire.” “Report the anomaly and your reason for ordering a cease-fire.” Then another voice spoke directly behind him. It was level and cold, utterly devoid of emotion. “Why are you ordering them to stop?” Before the captain could respond, the icy fingers calmly removed the communicator from his hand. “Follow my command,” the figure said into the device. The captain knew that voice. The realization left him utterly numb. The numb captain lowered his gaze toward his equally numb teammates inside the tank. One of them slowly looked back at him. The man opened his mouth and silently formed three words. “We’ve. Been. Infiltrated.” The corner of the captain’s mouth twitched. His right hand crept behind his back and closed around the grip of his beloved rocket launcher. He drew several deep breaths, as though gathering every scrap of courage remaining in his body. Then his furious roar swept across the battlefield. “YU——FEI——CHEN——!” “I’M——FILING——A——FORMAL——COMPLAINT——AGAINST——YOU!”