Volume 1 Chapter 6: Shattered Starry Sky

“Heh heh, this Russian fatty was at least 240 pounds, worth two normal people! Plenty for those zombies!”

Two prisoners emerged from the opposing group. They cautiously eyed Qin Lun before stepping forward to move Chekhov’s body. One dragged a foot, as they threw him into the corner separating the tunnel from the base’s main hall. There, hordes of zombies were closing in on the corpses of three Federation soldiers.

Adding Chekhov to the mix made four bodies piled together, just barely blocking the tunnel entrance about seven meters wide, holding back the zombie tide. Seeing the entrance completely jammed with hundreds of zombies, the prisoners wasted no more time. They split into two teams by themselves and put their combined strength into pushing the base’s large, heavy iron doors.

Aside from Qin Lun, who had a severe leg injury and couldn’t exert force, even Lin Feng and Little Lian joined the door-pushing effort now, fighting for their own survival.

Screeech!

The metal wheels of the door let out a harsh, grating sound. The immense iron door finally inched open, slowly sliding aside.

“It’s open! It’s open!” the prisoners yelled excitedly, their cheers filled with the raw joy of escape from death.

“This… this place… where is this?” But when everyone clearly saw the scene beyond the doors, the smiles froze on their faces. Their eyes reflected shock they couldn’t suppress!

Outside the base’s iron doors wasn’t the vibrant primal forest of the Greater Khingan Range. As far as they could see, the landscape was barren desert and strange-shaped rocky cliffs that lay like monsters scattered across this desolate, uninhabited expanse. It resembled the old American West.

Since entering the new century, Earth’s technology had advanced to transform almost all the deserts and wastelands of the old era into habitable land – aside from a few preserved primal forests and the polar ice caps – to house the ever-growing population. Barren, desolate landscapes like the one before them could only be seen in ancient photographs and films.

However, this wasn’t the most astonishing sight. The strangest thing was several kilometers in the distance, where a massive fracture split the entire continent. Beyond this continental break lay a boundless expanse of outer space, a deep, silent Star Void dotted with countless stars that blinked on and off.

But when they looked closer, these “stars” didn’t seem to be giant planets. Instead, they appeared to be floating landmasses of various sizes, each one encased within a spherical, orange-yellow glow.

The Suspended Continents far away looked tiny like fireflies, while the nearest one seemed as big as a millstone; mountains and rivers were clearly visible on its surface.

Even more shockingly, the exit from the District 91 Base was positioned mid-air, at least thirty meters above the desert ground below. It was obvious that the underground structure of the District 91 Base had somehow pushed up through the Gobi’s surface, lifting the tunnel exit, which had originally been level with the ground, high into the air.

No wonder the dead turned into Zombies! No wonder the particle beam guns in the Federation soldiers’ hands failed! No wonder all the modern instruments in the base stopped working! This wasn’t Earth at all. It seemed even the laws governing science were different here!

The prisoners quickly realized that the Gobi desert where the District 91 Federation Base now sat was probably also a Suspended Continent. The smarter ones among them recalled the spherical spacetime field that had appeared above District 91. Their current situation must be related to that spatial transfer, though exactly where the entire base had been transported remained a mystery.

“This isn’t Earth! Where are we?” A prisoner who finally snapped out of his daze cried out in shock.

“Those four bodies are almost eaten clean! The Emergency Exit tunnel is blocked! What do we do now?”

“Climb down! Climbing down is our only chance!”

The prisoners quickly understood they couldn’t just stand there staring, waiting to die. Several impatient convicts immediately started grabbing the outer walls by the base exit and climbing down.

Fortunately, it looked like the base’s underground structure had punched its way up through rock and soil onto the Gobi, forming a small, steep-sided hill. There were many places to get a handhold or foothold for descent.

Lin Feng used an iron support bracket as a makeshift tool, testing the stability of the steep “hillside” ahead. Little Lian supported Qin Lun, whose legs were injured, as they followed close behind him. This “small hill,” made from the underground architecture of District 91 fused with the surrounding rock and earth, wasn’t naturally formed. Many sections felt loose and unstable.

A height of thirty-plus meters wasn’t extremely high, but if someone lost their footing and tumbled down that steep slope, death was nearly certain. None of them wanted to escape the bloody jaws of Zombies only to die after a fall on this inhospitable desert.

Freed from the immediate threat of the zombie horde, the prisoners’ hastily formed alliances completely dissolved. All survivors, including the group of three, now totalled exactly twelve people.

These twelve quickly coalesced into smaller groups of two or three people each, loosely centered around the five notorious serial killers: “Dissector” Qin Lun, “The Disciple” Hansen, “Shepherd” Hill, “Firecracker” Rand, and “Joker” Grant.

It wasn’t that the other prisoners didn’t want unity in this strange new world. The problem was that trust among these hardened criminals was inherently difficult. Furthermore, the five serial killers all had serious psychological issues; their thoughts were twists and hard to predict. They weren’t truly normal people. Even the other prisoners clinging to them out of necessity kept their distance.

After about twenty minutes, with Little Lian’s assistance, Qin Lun finally reached the ground. His feet touched the sand and gravel of the Gobi desert, feeling a surge of warmth rise through his boots. Looking outward, the landscape was all ochre-red cliffs and rocky outcrops. Aside from the occasional howl of wind whistling past the ridges, the whole desert lay in profound silence, devoid of any sign of life.

Though there was no sun directly overhead, the orange-yellow glow enveloping the Suspended Continent emitted intense heat and light, making everyone drowsy. Qin Lun’s small group found shelter from the wind behind a huge rock near the base and sat down to rest.

“Will… will we ever get back?” Little Lian hugged her knees, her head bowed, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

Lin Feng remained silent, his head tilted back with a vacant, numb expression, radiating deep despair. He’d heard dire news from several prisoners and confirmed it: his father was dead. They’d seen a Zombie clad in a general’s uniform in the base’s control room. And his father was the only general stationed at this base.

Qin Lun gently closed his eyes. He greedily breathed in the warm, dry air of this unfamiliar world. For him, freedom was the prize. Earth or this strange new world held little difference. His sole remaining attachment was the little sister he hadn’t seen in over a decade.

Perhaps having her live far away from him – carrying only her own share of happiness – was truly for the best. As for himself, burdened with dozens of lives, the truth of that incident didn’t matter anymore. He had chosen the path of the Serial Killer; there was no turning back now.

His wandering thoughts were suddenly interrupted. He spread open his right hand, gazing intently at the black, egg-shaped pattern etched into his palm. Ever since he had killed Chekhov and absorbed that cool, flowing energy, this marking had pulsed steadily, like a heartbeat. That cool sensation seemed to emanate from the pattern itself. Like flowing blood, it circulated through his entire body in a continuous loop.

With each circulation, the energy within him diminished slightly, becoming almost imperceptibly faint now. Yet, as it lessened, the feeling corresponded with waves of relief washing over his exhaustion, wounds, and aches. Fresh strength bubbled within him, and even the injury in his leg seemed to be healing at a remarkable speed. This cool energy clearly benefited him, subtly enhancing his Constitution.

Curiously, Qin Lun raised his left thumb, rubbing it over the egg-shaped marking, wanting to feel that distinct pulse clearly. The next instant, his eyes snapped wide open as a powerful internal jolt hit him. Within the deepest recesses of his consciousness, a plain-looking black tablet manifested. It was the exact same model as the “Death Notice” that stored his criminal records!

Simultaneously with the reappearance of the “Death Notice,” the egg-shaped pattern on Qin Lun’s right palm underwent a metamorphosis. It twisted and reshaped itself into a small, distinct skull. And within the empty eye sockets of this tiny skull, two faint dots of crimson flicker ignited.

“Hey! Look over there! What is that?”

Just as Qin Lun prepared to probe the “Death Notice” with his consciousness, a prisoner’s nervous shout cut through the air nearby. Distracted, the “Death Notice” within Qin Lun’s mind silently faded away. Annoyed, Qin Lun shook his head and pushed himself to his feet following the convict’s gaze.

What he saw was a dark line suddenly appear from deep within the desert landscape, roughly ten kilometers from the base structure. Within mere minutes, this line swelled into a massive dust cloud – a rolling, earth-darkened plume churning directly towards their location.

“Natives! Beasts of this world!” Disciple Hansen’s face suddenly contorted with alarm. He spun towards the scattered prisoners and shouted a warning at the top of his lungs.

As a former mercenary soldier, Hansen instantly recognized this wasn’t a natural weather event. That colossal dust column could only result from the movement of something numerous and incredibly swift. Horse herds… armored columns… it had to be one or the other.

Without hesitation, the prisoners – who had drifted apart moments ago – rushed back towards the central area near the base’s hill. Now, regardless of pre-existing conflicts or fear, survival demanded they lock ranks and face whatever fate this unknown world would send next.

No sooner had the prisoners regrouped when the dust plume seemed to register their presence. It slightly adjusted its course, carving an arc across the desert landscape – its apex now zeroing in directly on the smudge of tiny figures huddled against the District 91 Base wreckage.

Mere breaths passed as the towering dust cloud rolled ever closer. Shapes resolved out of the choking grit. A collective wave of astonished incredulity washed over them.

“Those are… wheeled machines?” one prisoner gasped.

The dust clarified into an expedition force – except oddly lacking banners or uniforms. It was just a motley convoy of several dozen bizarre wheeled transports.

The vehicles varied wildly in design, clearly lacking uniformity. There were machines reminiscent of ancient Earth twin-cylinder motorcycles contorted by centuries of technological drift. Spanning forms included advanced single-wheel rollers, moving with unsettling grace. Others churned along on oblong treads, crawling like ancient tanks. Trailing at the rear lumbered a gargantuan vehicle resembling a multi-wheeled spider resting on mechanical hydraulics.

Ground vehicles meant machinery. Machinery implied intelligence? The prisoners instinctively drew themselves into a tighter knot near the base. Vigilance sharpened between breaths to its razor edge.

“SCREEEECH!”

One of the four-wheeled machines abruptly peeled away from the disorderly mass of the convoy. It careened to a halt directly near the shrunken gaggle of prisoners. The heavy compartment door creaked open.

A humanoid being emerged and strode toward them. Purposefully. Menacingly. Blatantly unconcerned with good manners.

Its whole being was encased within voluminous hooded robes blotting individuality beneath shadow upon shadow. Massive black-tinted goggles covered at least two-thirds of its face. Strapped across its shoulder blades rested a comically oversized gun with barrel flaring like a trumpet horn. Two thick ammunition belts crossed diagonally over its chest. It languidly swung its arms with each deliberate step, projecting an aura of absolute indifference to potential threats.

It also… couldn’t have been more than three feet tall. Its chin barely brushed some of the taller prisoner’s knees!

Staring wide-eyed as the creature approached in calculated menace brimming from the soles of its boots to the rim of its shrouded hood… This impossibly tiny biker gang leader struck an utterly comical figure!