Apocalypse: I Raised the Ultimate Antagonist from Scratch

The engine of the lead transport truck purred with a steady, low-frequency rumble as the massive vehicle slowed its approach through the swirling whiteout.

Behind them, keeping a strict ten-meter interval, Captain Lu Feng’s secondary transport followed seamlessly in the deep tire tracks, its high-intensity fog lights piercing the thick curtain of falling snow.

Inside the heated cabin of the primary vehicle, Lin Qing reached out and adjusted the frequency knob on the dashboard radio console before pressing the primary channel comms button.

”Lin Qing to Gate Command,” she spoke into the receiver, her tone crisp and unhurried despite the exhaustion weighing behind her eyes. ”We have cleared the outer perimeter line. Requesting gate authorization and bay clearance.”

Static crackled softly over the speaker for two seconds before Lieutenant Chen’s calm, familiar voice cut clearly through the cabin.

”Copy that. Opening secondary blast doors now. Welcome back to base.”

Up ahead, embedded deep into the granite mountain face, the massive, reinforced blast doors groaned as heavy hydraulic pistons activated. The double-layered barriers slid smoothly into the rock walls, revealing the bright, temperature-controlled subterranean loading bay beyond.

As the heavy vehicles rolled across the threshold, the blast doors sealed shut behind them with a deep, reverberating THUD, instantly shutting out the howling, cold gale.

The sudden absence of the wind was almost surreal.

One by one, the heavy transport engines cut off, their low hum replaced by the hiss of pneumatic pressure valves cooling down in the warm indoor air.

Waiting near the concrete staging area was Lieutenant Chen.

Standing quietly half a step beside Lieutenant Chen, his small hands tucked neatly into the pockets of a dark coat, was five-year-old Han Ye.

Han Ye stood completely still, his small posture poised and unyielding. His sharp, glossy dark eyes scanned the dismounting squad with an eerie, clinical efficiency that belonged to a battle-hardened veteran rather than a preschooler.

He noted the heavy, sealed medical crates strapped securely to the transport’s rear flatbed. He observed the calm, victorious postures of Ah Hua and Xiao Li. Most importantly, he verified the complete absence of fatal injuries or fresh bloodstains among the returnees.

Internally, a quiet wave of relief washed through Han Ye’s soul.

Gao Feng’s ruthless, mercenary faction had been completely erased from the valley, and the vital medical generators and fuel had been secured without sacrificing a single ally—a miraculous, unprecedented deviation from the grim, blood-soaked timeline he had survived in his past life.

As Ah Hua, Xiao Li, and Da Yong stepped down onto the smooth concrete floor, a collective, heavy sigh of sheer physical exhaustion echoed across the vehicle bay. Fighting through an iron-walled fortress and navigating a deadly blizzard had drained every drop of physical energy they possessed.

”Man, my shoulders feel like they’re made of crushed gravel,” Ah Hua muttered, leaning his heavy frame against the transport’s side rail and stretching his stiff neck. ”I don’t think I could lift one of those medical crates right now even if the roof was falling in.”

”Don’t worry about the cargo tonight,” Lieutenant Chen said with a warm, genuine smile, stepping forward to greet the squad and clapping Ah Hua gently on the shoulder. ” Leave the heavy unloading for the morning shift. All of you look absolutely dead on your feet. Go thaw out—Sun Hao and Zhou Ming have been working in the kitchen for the last hour and just finished preparing a hot meal in the residential suite.”

A spontaneous, tired cheer broke out among the squad members. After hours of icy wind, gunpowder smoke, and raw adrenaline, the promise of warm food and soft beds was sweeter than any victory.

Han Ye walked over to where his father was unstrapping his tactical vest. Looking up at Han Zheng, the boy let his unnaturally sharp eyes soften, carefully adjusting his expression to project the simple, quiet innocence expected of a five-year-old child.

”Dad,” Han Ye said softly, giving a polite, calm nod. ”Glad you’re back safe.”

Han Zheng, entirely unaware that his young son harbored the memories of a hardened regressor, unbuckled his holster and reached down, resting his broad, warm palm on Han Ye’s head with rare, quiet affection.

”We’re back, Ye’er,” Han Zheng replied, his voice low and gruff. ”Go up to the residential suite dining area with Chen and get something warm to eat.”

Han Ye nodded obediently, but as his father turned to coordinate perimeter rotations with Lu Feng, the boy quietly pivoted on his heel. Instead of joining the rest of the noisy squad as they moved toward the elevators, Han Ye fell into step right beside Lin Qing, who was heading in the opposite direction toward the medical sector.

Lin Qing glanced down, noticing the quiet boy walking steadfastly at her side. She didn’t ask why he wasn’t running off to get dinner with the others, nor did she make a fuss or treat him like a helpless child. She simply accepted his quiet presence with a subtle nod, allowing him to accompany her down the silent, well-lit concrete corridor.

The subterranean residential and medical corridors were warm, clean, and dimly lit for the evening cycle. Lin Qing stepped through the doors of the primary medical wing, fully expecting to find both Dr. Zhou and Lu Ning hard at work managing the lab’s supplies.

However, as she stepped into the central research lab, Lu Ning was nowhere to be seen.

Lin Qing paused for a second, her mind quickly calculating the timeline. She realized that Lu Ning had likely returned to her room to rest, having put in a grueling, full day of uninterrupted manual and administrative labor alongside Dr. Zhou to keep the base running while the strike team was deployed.

Further inside the main lab room, Dr. Zhou was hunched stiffly over her primary workstation console. The cool blue illumination of complex data streams reflected off her thick reading glasses, her fingers flying rapidly across the mechanical keyboard.

She was so completely absorbed in the dense meteorological telemetry flooding her monitors that she didn’t hear the automated doors slide open or the soft sound of approaching footsteps.

”Dr. Zhou,” Lin Qing called out softly so as not to startle her too violently.

”Ah!” Dr. Zhou gasped, jumping several inches in her swivel chair and whipping her head around, clutching a hard-copy clipboard to her chest in sudden shock. When her eyes registered Lin Qing and the small boy standing beside her, she let out a long, shuddering sigh, resting a hand over her racing heart. ”Lin Qing! Goodness gracious, you gave me a fright... I didn’t hear the door chime.”

”Sorry to startle you,” Lin Qing said, walking over to the main terminal console and resting her hand on the edge of the desk. ”I just wanted to drop off the initial equipment manifest for the high-grade medical generators we retrieved from Gao Feng’s supply depot. How are the base systems holding up?”

”Forget the manifest for a moment,” Dr. Zhou said, her tired eyes suddenly sparkling with an intense, almost frantic excitement. She reached out, catching Lin Qing’s sleeve and pulling her closer to the large display screen.

”Look at this display! Using the high-voltage power channels we restored last time, I managed to crack an encrypted orbital frequency and patch our terminal directly into an active deep-space meteorological satellite!”

On the broad main display, a high-resolution thermal rendering of the continent was slowly loading, rendering intricate color-coded weather bands line by line.

”Look at these cloud density parameters right here,” Dr. Zhou pointed eagerly at a series of shifting radar maps, her voice filled with undisguised triumph.

”The thick, suffocating layer of atmospheric ash and arctic storm clouds that has been trapping the surface in a sub-zero deep freeze for months... it’s breaking apart! Look at these barometric pressure shifts—the surface temperatures across our entire regional sector are projected to spike dramatically over the next two weeks!”

Dr. Zhou let out a happy, breathless laugh, clasping her hands together in genuine relief.

”It’s incredible news, Lin Qing! The brutal, unnatural winter is finally breaking. The climate is warming up much faster than any of our early predictive models suggested. The frost is melting, and we might actually see real sunlight again soon!”

Standing half a step behind Lin Qing, Han Ye stared fixedly at the glowing satellite telemetry on the monitor—and his young face instantly turned dead cold.

A heavy, suffocating dread settled into the pit of his stomach like a block of lead.

’No... this is completely wrong’, Han Ye thought, his hands clenching into tight fists inside his coat pockets as his regressor memories surged back with terrifying clarity. ’The atmospheric thaw wasn’t supposed to happen for another six months! Why is the timeline shifting forward so rapidly?!’

Dr. Zhou was smiling warmly, entirely blind to the catastrophic reality hidden beneath those colorful weather maps.

Han Ye knew the horrifying truth that she hadn’t realized yet. The brutal, sub-zero cold hadn’t just been a hardship for humanity—it had been their greatest protective shield. The freezing temperatures had acted as a natural prison, freezing hordes of mutated zombies, hyper-evolved beasts, and infected avian swarms solid, locking them in deep stasis across the wilderness.

If the weather thawed six months early, the melting ice wouldn’t bring life back to the world.

It would unlock the frozen horde, awakening countless numbers of starving, mutated nightmares all at once.