Chapter 49: Research Institute

The wind sweeping through the canyon carried a sharp chill.

Ethan held his breath as Space energy quietly gathered at his fingertips.

The gap in the rooftop door widened inch by inch. That bony, well-defined hand finally slipped through far enough to reach the lock from the inside.

Click.

The rusty iron door slowly swung open.

A tall, slender man stepped onto the rooftop, his silhouette outlined by the fading light.

He wore a neatly pressed dark-gray trench coat with a matching silk scarf tied around his collar. Even with dust covering the abandoned building and the city below reduced to ruins, he somehow looked as though he had just stepped out of an expensive hotel.

Gold-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. His narrow eyes swept across the rooftop before settling on Ethan, who was crouched behind the water tank.

The man smiled faintly.

"Looks like I interrupted dinner."

His voice was calm and gentle, with a deliberate slowness that felt completely out of place in the middle of the Apocalypse.

Ethan didn’t lower his guard. He kept his sword raised across his chest.

"Who are you?"

The man adjusted his glasses.

"Allow me to introduce myself. Tom Hurst."

His gaze briefly moved to the can of food in Ethan’s hand before shifting to the tear in his windbreaker. A faint, unreadable smile appeared on his face.

"Judging by the state of your clothes, I’d say you’ve had a rough day."

Ethan didn’t answer.

"What are you doing here?"

Tom walked toward the edge of the rooftop and looked down at the deserted street below.

"Just passing through. The view from up here is useful. You can see quite a distance in every direction."

He paused before glancing back at Ethan.

"And I happened to notice someone having dinner alone on a rooftop in the middle of an Apocalypse. That’s either confidence or terrible judgment."

Ethan narrowed his eyes.

The man’s words sounded casual, but every sentence seemed carefully chosen.

What bothered him more was the fact that Tom wasn’t carrying any obvious weapon.

Yet Ethan could feel a strange pressure coming from him.

He’s hiding something.

"Likewise."

Ethan stood up and casually placed the can of food into his Survival Space.

"Mr. Hurst, prying open the door to a rooftop you’ve never seen before isn’t exactly cautious behavior either."

Tom gave a quiet chuckle.

Instead of answering, he reached into his coat and pulled out an elegant pocket watch.

He opened it, checked the time, and closed it again with an almost absurd level of composure.

Then his expression changed slightly.

"There is blood on you."

His eyes moved toward Ethan’s left arm.

"And something else."

Ethan’s expression hardened.

"The scent of a mutated snake."

Tom’s gaze lingered on the faint mark left by the Snake King.

"It seems you’ve recently dealt with something rather troublesome."

Ethan’s heart sank.

Can he actually sense the Snake King’s mark?

He subtly shifted his position, putting the water tank between himself and Tom.

"Did you come here because of the mark?"

Ethan’s voice remained calm.

"Or do you simply know a lot about mutated creatures?"

"I know enough."

Tom slipped the pocket watch back into his coat.

"For example, since the Snake King appeared, most people who have been marked by it haven’t survived."

He looked at Ethan through his gold-rimmed glasses.

"You’re one of the few exceptions."

The words hit Ethan like a hammer.

He stared at Tom, trying to read his expression.

Nothing.

The man’s face remained completely calm, giving away nothing.

"What exactly do you want?"

Ethan’s voice turned cold.

Tom didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he pointed toward the street below.

"Look."

Ethan followed his gaze.

His pupils contracted.

A group of dark figures was racing down the street.

They moved far faster than ordinary zombies.

All four limbs slammed against the pavement as they sprinted forward, their backs hunched and their bodies moving with disturbing speed. Under the moonlight, Ethan could clearly see their exposed fangs.

There were more than twenty of them.

And they were heading straight toward the building.

Ethan immediately recognized them.

Speed Zombies.

"They’re attracted to the Snake King’s scent too," Tom said calmly.

He paused.

"But you’re probably not their only target."

Ethan turned sharply toward him.

A gust of wind caught the bottom of Tom’s trench coat, briefly revealing a silver badge hanging from his waist.

A complicated emblem was engraved across its surface.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

"You’re a researcher?"

Tom simply straightened his coat.

"The creatures you’re looking at are Speed Zombies. Their muscle fibers have undergone a secondary mutation, giving them roughly three times the speed of ordinary zombies."

He glanced down at the street.

"Against a group that size, an ordinary Ability User has very little chance of surviving."

Boom!

A violent impact came from somewhere below.

Then another.

The building trembled.

Dust shook loose from the walls, and tiny pieces of concrete fell from the edge of the rooftop.

The Speed Zombies had reached the building.

"They’re coming up."

Tom rolled his shoulders.

"I suppose we’ll have to cooperate for now."

He looked at Ethan.

"Speed Zombies have extremely sensitive hearing. They’re particularly vulnerable to high-frequency sound. What’s your Ability?"

Ethan didn’t answer.

Instead, he raised one hand.

Space energy condensed instantly.

Spatial Cut.

A flash of white light swept across the rooftop.

A thick piece of exposed steel rebar at the edge of the building was severed cleanly and dropped toward the street below.

Clang!

The metal struck the pavement with a deafening crash.

Several Speed Zombies immediately changed direction.

They sprinted toward the sound, their attention temporarily pulled away from the building entrance.

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Space Ability?"

A brief flash of surprise appeared in his eyes.

Then his expression returned to normal.

"Interesting."

He raised one hand.

Pale-blue ripples spread across his palm.

The ripples expanded outward, forming an almost invisible barrier around the rooftop.

The sounds coming from below immediately became muffled.

The violent pounding against the building sounded distant, as though several layers of thick material had been placed between them and the zombies.

"Sound Barrier," Tom explained.

"It can suppress and isolate certain frequencies for a short period."

Ethan stared at the faint blue ripples.

An Ability that controls sound.

It wasn’t a straightforward offensive Ability, nor was it purely defensive.

It was the kind of Ability that could become extremely troublesome in the hands of someone who knew how to use it.

Tom pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Speed Zombies have extremely sensitive hearing. Even our conversation may have already given away our position."

He looked toward the water tank.

"We have two choices."

"Fight our way through them."

He pointed toward the water tank.

"Or hide in there."

Ethan glanced at the rusty tank.

It was roughly two meters wide and had an access hatch on top. Two people could probably squeeze inside.

But hiding inside a confined space with a stranger whose abilities he knew nothing about was not exactly an appealing option.

Especially when he’d have to turn his back on him.

"I’ll take a third option."

Space energy surged around Ethan.

He activated Space Teleportation Ability.

In an instant, his figure disappeared.

Tom’s eyes narrowed.

Ethan reappeared behind him.

His sword was already pressed against Tom’s neck.

"Tell me who you really are."

Ethan’s voice was cold.

"Otherwise, that barrier won’t save you."

Tom didn’t panic.

He didn’t even look at the blade.

Instead, he glanced sideways at Ethan.

"Aren’t you worried I could use the barrier to trap you here?"

"Try it."

Ethan’s grip didn’t move.

"Spatial Cut is faster than your barrier."

That was the conclusion he’d reached after watching Tom use the Ability.

The Sound Barrier required a brief period to form.

Spatial Cut didn’t.

If Ethan attacked first, Tom might not have enough time to react.

Tom remained silent for several seconds.

Then he smiled.

"You really are cautious."

He slowly turned around.

Ethan kept the sword against his neck, maintaining enough distance to strike instantly if necessary.

"Fine. I’ll tell you part of the truth."

Tom’s expression became more serious.

"I belong to the Apocalypse Evolution Research Institute."

Ethan frowned.

"Never heard of it."

"We study the evolution of mutated creatures, Ability Users, and Evolved Zombies."

Tom’s voice carried a faint edge of fascination.

Ethan studied him carefully.

"So you’re not part of the government?"

Tom shook his head.

"Government?"

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"Look around you. The government collapsed when the Apocalypse began. There’s no functioning authority left here to work for."

Ethan didn’t lower his sword.

"Then what exactly is the Apocalypse Evolution Research Institute?"

"An organization dedicated to understanding what the Apocalypse is doing to the world."

Tom’s eyes sharpened behind his glasses.

"We observe mutations, collect Cores, study Ability Users, and track the evolution of zombies and other creatures."

Ethan’s expression remained unchanged.

He wasn’t convinced.

Not even close.

There was something about Tom that didn’t sit right with him.

The man was far too calm.

Far too informed.

And he had somehow recognized the Snake King’s mark almost immediately.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

"Have you studied the Snake King?"