Shock and Horror

The sky, shrouded in the dying glow of sunset, was already pitch black. Splash, splash.

Hundreds of thousands of Chinese players, ordered to retreat, swam across the Yalu River. High-level ones leaped over in a single bound. Others, attempting half-heartedly, plunged straight in.

Sploosh!

Liang Fei was one of the latter.

"Fuck!"

"You okay?"

"Shit, my clothes are soaked. Feels gross."

Liang Fei grumbled, shaking off the mud and leaves clinging to his outfit.

"What the hell is this bullshit? Weren't we supposed to take Korea?"

"Hang in there. We're almost out."

"Who could've imagined Sertina wiping out ten million of our players?"

Most players were evacuating through Sinuiju. That left the Yalu River basin sparsely populated, with only about three hundred stragglers.

"Hey, what if Sertina actually pushes into our country like this? That thing's an uncontrollable monster."

Liang Fei voiced his fears, glancing at his comrades. But they were gone.

Just seconds ago, they'd been chatting.

"Huh...?"

Liang Fei raised an eyebrow. These assholes pranking me again.

"Come on, stop hiding. You gonna stick around for Sertina?"

No reply.

Looking around, an eerie wrongness settled in.

Wait... why am I alone?!

The three hundred players had vanished without a trace. The midnight hour amplified the creeping dread.

"G-guys...?"

A chill wind brushed his skin. The moon's reflection in the black river waters gleamed like some living eye. Not even crickets chirped. Aside from reeds rustling and the river's flow, silence reigned—as if every life on Earth had vanished.

Liang Fei's hackles rose; he shuddered.

Then, a hand shot from the reeds, gripping his shoulder.

"Fuck, you scared me! Damn it, Weijen."

Weijen, his comrade from moments ago. Relief washed over Liang ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Fei.

But something was off with Weijen.

"Weijen...? You plant snacks in the ground or what?"

Weijen slowly lifted his bowed head. Gray, lifeless skin drained of vitality. Eyes with only whites visible. Like a zombie from a movie.

"Grraaagh."

"Agh! Fuck!"

Liang Fei shoved Weijen's chest with both hands, staggering back. As Weijen toppled into the reeds, relief flickered—until.

Thud.

Something clamped his ankle. Another ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠comrade's hand.

"Gaaahhh!"

This one matched Weijen's grotesque state. Panic surged; Liang Fei tried shaking him off, but the grip was ironclad. Far stronger. A level gap.

"G-get off! Get the fuck off!"

From the reeds, countless black silhouettes lurched forth. The missing players, now rotting flesh-piles with vacant stares, swarmed him.

Liang Fei's breath caught. Icy terror climbed his spine, blood freezing.

"W-what the hell! Gaaahhh!"

They seized his limbs, pinning him spread-eagled like a crucified man.

What is this? Fuck, what's happening?!

Weijen wrenched his head forward from behind.

And Liang Fei saw it.

From thick black mist, a colossal figure rose. A black-robed entity, perhaps five meters tall, loomed over him. Chains bound a massive scythe in its grasp, evoking the Grim Reaper.

"H-hngh!"

Crushing pressure squeezed his body; breaths came ragged. The robe's shadows hid its face, but instinct screamed it watched him.

The figure extended a pallid, corpse-like hand toward trembling Liang Fei.

"Fragile being. You cling to a worthless life."

A deep, resonant voice boomed.

The chained scythe glinted silver in the moonlight.

Liang Fei teetered on unconsciousness. He wanted to scream, but terror choked him.

"Life is a curse binding the flesh. I grant thee eternal salvation from death's chains."

With that, it raised the scythe without hesitation.

The blade flashed silver under the moon.

"Hngh! W-wai—"

Schwick!

Clunk, roll.

Liang Fei's head tumbled across the dirt with a dull thud. The figure reached for it telekinetically; it floated into its grasp.

It jammed the severed head back onto the neck.

Squelch! Crackle. Grind.

Sinister bone sounds echoed as it locked in. Vitality drained rapidly; skin wrinkled like an aged corpse. Eyes snapped open—whites only.

The figure nodded in satisfaction.

"How does freedom from life's curse feel?"

"Grraaaahhh..."

"Yes, my thrall. From your lands, we shall spread true salvation across this world."

The black figure led its undead horde toward Sinuiju, leaving blood-soaked reeds behind. As they vanished, silenced insects began their cries anew.

News of the ten-million-strong army's annihilation rippled worldwide. Shock mingled with questions: How did she slaughter every last one without exception?

When Sertina's Phase 3 skill leaked—wide-area blood drain—global communities erupted in panic.

A few days passed since the China crisis resolved. I'd focused on clearing remnant monsters across Korea.

"Phew, finally clean."

I dusted my hands, eyeing the sprawled Blue Wyvern corpse with its tongue lolling out. Satisfied.

Monsters were easy pickings.

How dare trash mobs challenge a world boss...

Cockroaches hiding silently were the issue. This wyvern had clung bat-like to the basement ceiling.

"Guess the hideouts are cleared too..."

Muttering, I pulled out my smartphone.

Maybe from the infamy of the ten-million massacre, international opinion soured hard. Domestic news clean, but foreign headlines dominated.

No matter. My overwhelming display deterred any fools.

I called Choi Ah-rin.