Apocalypse: I Raised the Ultimate Antagonist from Scratch

A suffocating, heavy gloom hung over the sanctuary base as night fell.

With the heavy blast doors sealed shut under Lu Feng’s defensive lockdown, the secondary residential suite dining room felt less like a safe haven and more like an underground tomb.

The warm yellow glow of the overhead recessed lamps did nothing to thaw the icy tension lingering in the air. The silence was broken only by the quiet clatter of the cutlery.

Sitting around the long wooden table, the remaining soldiers on duty picked at their rations in total, heavy silence.

Old Wang sat staring blankly at his untouched metal tray, his eyes shadowed with an unspoken, bitter grief. He had seen countless comrades fall during the initial apocalyptic wave, but losing Lin Qing was a different kind of blow. Beside him, Sun Hao slowly polished the lens of a radio receiver he had already cleaned five times, his movements methodical, quiet, and solemn.

Near the end of the table sat Lu Ning. She kept her head lowered over her soup bowl, attempting to maintain a quiet, respectful front, but the subtle relaxation in her shoulders gave her away. She took small, deliberate bites of her food, her eyes flickering occasionally with a suppressed, smug satisfaction.

To anyone who knew her deep-seated disdain and rivalry toward Lin Qing, her complete lack of genuine grief was hardly surprising. She was barely hiding the fact that she viewed Lin Qing’s sudden disappearance as a stroke of divine good fortune.

At a small side table near the corner of the dining room, Han Ye sat quietly with his meal tray.

To the rest of the room, he looked like a traumatized child struggling to process the potential loss of his mother. His small hands held his spoon loosely, and his eyes remained fixed on the table surface.

But beneath his innocent, youthful exterior, his regressor instincts were operating at peak efficiency, cold and precise. He was scanning every face, analyzing posture, breathing rates, and micro-expressions across the room.

His sharp gaze eventually settled on Yang Jun.

Hours earlier, down in the icy chaos of the loading bay, Yang Jun had put on a flawless, heart-wrenching performance. He had been weeping, frantic, his voice cracking and trembling violently as he delivered his desperate report of the sudden ”thaw collapse” to Han Zheng. He had looked like a broken man crushed under the agonizing weight of failure.

But now, sitting against the far wall with a hot cup of tea resting between his hands, Yang Jun looked entirely different.

His posture was relaxed—almost peaceful. His breathing was slow, rhythmic, and steady. The tense, panicked micro-tremors in his jaw and shoulders were completely gone. He carried himself with a subtle, unmistakable lightness, like a soldier who had just successfully executed a high-stakes covert operation and relieved himself of an unbearable burden.

Han Ye’s dark pupils narrowed into sharp, lethal pinpricks.

’He isn’t grieving at all,’ Han Ye thought, his mind coldly piecing together the subtle anomalies. ’Lieutenant Chen was pale with pure horror. Zhou Ming was trembling so violently he couldn’t hold his kit. But Yang Jun... Yang Jun is relieved.’

The five-year-old regressor took a slow, quiet bite of his food, keeping his head tilted down to mask his expression. A master sniper like Yang Jun didn’t just ”fail” to shatter a falling ice slab’s base—he calculated wind speed, trajectory, and kinetic momentum down to the millimeter before pulling a trigger. The timing of that collapse was far too convenient, and Yang Jun’s sudden shift from hysterical panic to calm tranquility was a massive slip in his mask.

’You think she’s dead,’ Han Ye thought, staring at Yang Jun’s peaceful expression. ’And you think you got away with it.’

Han Ye made a silent, unyielding vow right then and there. He would stay quiet, maintain his innocent child persona, and shadow Yang Jun’s every single move around the sanctuary base. He would gather irrefutable proof before his father returned, ensuring that when Han Zheng stepped back through those gates, the traitor would have nowhere left to hide.

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Two miles south, the heavy modified SUV slammed to a sudden, skidding halt near the perimeter edge of the collapsed medical depot pass, its massive snow-plow front caked in thick sheets of ice. The twin high-intensity halogen headlights cut through the swirling whiteout, illuminating the devastated edge of the cliff wall.

The driver’s side door flew open, and Han Zheng stepped out into the freezing gale, his overcoat snapping violently in the wind. His face was carved out of pure stone, his eyes bloodshot yet sharp as razors.

Behind him, Lieutenant Chen, Ah Hua, Xiao Li, and Zhou Ming piled out of the passenger doors, their heavy weapons drawn, unlocked, and leveled at the canyon floor.

The central ravine below was a chaotic, horrifying nightmare. Thousands of tons of shattered ice, pulverized granite, and twisted concrete rebar filled the riverbed. Drawn by the thunderous roar of the structural collapse hours earlier, dozens of cold-adapted infected were swarming the debris field, their frost-covered bodies tearing through the snowbanks as they searched for flesh.

”Clear the basin!” Han Zheng commanded, his voice slicing through the roaring wind like a steel blade.

He didn’t wait for a tactical formation or cover fire. Han Zheng vaulted straight over the edge of the snowy embankment, plunging twenty feet down into the ravine floor and landing heavily in the powder with a dark thud.

A mutated, frost-covered infected lunged at him from behind a boulder, its jagged, ice-coated claws reaching for his throat. Han Zheng’s reaction was instantaneous. He didn’t even turn his head fully—he simply thrust his right palm sideways, unleashing his Kinetic Force Manipulation.

BOOM!

A localized, visible shockwave of compressed kinetic energy erupted from his palm with the force of a point-blank cannon shell. The pressure wave instantly shattered the monster’s frozen skull into dust, sending the kinetic recoil blasting backward to pulverize three additional infected caught in the radius behind it.

Beside him, Lieutenant Chen activated his Thermal Manipulation. Concentrated waves of intense, white-hot energy rippled down his arms and into his hands, igniting his combat knife and sidearm rounds. He unleashed focused bursts of high-heat flame that instantly melted through the thick ice armor of the approaching horde, setting the mutated beasts ablaze.

Xiao Li stepped into the front line, activating his Earth Hardening. A rock-hard, dark molecular layer of mineral armor coated his skin and tactical shield, allowing him to act as a human anvil. He slammed his shield into a leaping mutant, absorbing the crushing impact without yielding an inch, before crushing its throat beneath his boot.

Covering their flanks, Ah Hua provided suppressive heavy fire with his modified assault rifle. His advanced physical strength allowed him to absorb the massive recoil of heavy armor-piercing rounds effortlessly, sweeping the perimeter ledges and dropping infected before they could descend the cliff faces.

In less than six violent, blood-soaked minutes, the entire mutant swarm in the basin was obliterated, dark infected blood sizzling and freezing rapidly against the snow drifts.

”Zhou Ming, Xiao Li—dig!” Lieutenant Chen barked through his radio, his face pale as he rushed toward the massive mound of shattered concrete where the loading dock ledge had sheared off.

For fifteen agonizing, physically grueling minutes, Xiao Li used his enhanced physical strength to haul multi-hundred-pound slabs of concrete out of the snowbank, hurling them aside like wooden blocks. Beside him, Zhou Ming dropped to his knees, frantically clearing pulverised ice and snow with his gloved hands, expecting at any second to uncover a gruesome, crushed body beneath the rubble.

They excavated the entire impact pocket straight down to the frozen bedrock of the riverbed.

Zhou Ming froze, his breath hitching in his throat as his gloved hands brushed against bare, frozen stone. ”Commander... look.”

There was no crushed body. No torn clothes. No pool of frozen, dark blood.

Han Zheng stepped into the excavated crater, dropping onto one knee in the deep powder. He pulled off one heavy glove, sweeping his bare hand across the snow surface, analyzing the physical signs that ordinary eyes would miss in the storm.

Near the southern edge of the avalanche impact zone, the snow was compacted in an unusual, perfectly smooth circular ring—the residual signature of a localized energy disruption. Leading directly away from that smooth ring, heading south toward the high, jagged mountain ridge, was a fresh set of boot prints cutting through the snow.

”Tracks,” Lieutenant Chen whispered in absolute shock, stepping up to the crater edge with his rifle lowered. ”Four... maybe five people. They were moving in a tight formation, carrying a central load.”

Zhou Ming let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, wiping the frost from his eyes. ”She survived the fall! Someone caught her somehow before she hit the rocks!”

Han Zheng stood up slowly, the terrifying, suffocating fear that had been gripping his heart since he left the base instantly burning away. In its place rose a cold, terrifying, and absolute focus.

He reached down, thumbing the safety off his sidearm before sliding his glove back on. He stared down the narrow, dark, snow-swept trail leading into the mountain range.

”She’s alive,” Han Zheng said, his voice quiet, low, and laced with lethal promise. ”And whoever took her is still out in these mountains.”

He turned back toward the SUV, his heavy long coat snapping against the howling wind as the headlights reflected off his dark, unwavering eyes. ”Lock your weapons. We’re tracking them down.”

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