"Wait a second!"
Mike froze mid-thought, a chilling realization creeping into his mind. "If we go by how the undead are portrayed in human fiction, aren't they usually the result of... our own mistakes?"
"Most outbreaks in the stories begin with some kind of infection—spreading rapidly among humans, triggering total collapse!"
His eyes widened in horror. "If the fourth apocalyptic scenario is meant to escalate globally… could the system target the remaining survivors directly?"
He muttered in disbelief, "At least here in Jinling, we haven't identified a source of infection. So if the system wants to push the undead catastrophe into full swing… would it create undead directly from survivors? Even those hiding safely in shelters?"
The thought alone sent shivers down his spine. Given what the system had shown so far, such terrifying capabilities weren't beyond possibility.
Mike wasn't necessarily worried about the total extinction of humanity through forced infection. That felt unlikely.
But even a partial conversion would be devastating to the fragile administrative order he'd built across the four cities.
He reacted immediately—without hesitation. Just seconds after the fourth calamity announcement, Mike grabbed his communicator and barked out rapid commands.
"Command Center! Relay my orders now!"
"All personnel across the Four Cities are to go into full lockdown! Even those in underground shelters—treat this as a total containment alert!"
"Inform everyone to remain on high alert for random infections among those nearby! Reactivate the Illithid Surveillance Protocol from the Third Apocalypse phase—NOW!"
His voice was sharp, urgent.
The officer on the other end, a gifted individual, quickly understood the implications and responded with panic-laced resolve. "Yes, Commander! Right away!"
After issuing his orders, Mike didn't stop. He switched to the secured line and connected directly to the Old Master.
Once he laid out his concerns, the old man's response came—cold, and unsurprisingly condescending.
"Hah. Such a trivial matter, and you come whining to me about it?" The Old Master scoffed. "A true calamity is upon us. If that's how the system plans it, you'll just have to watch it unfold."
"I know," Mike said cautiously, choosing his words with care. "But I just want to do what I can, sir. Every life we save counts—don't you think so?"
"Tch… you talk too much," the old man grumbled, clearly annoyed. "Fine. I'll keep the Eternal Lantern running to cover things. Now quit bothering me. You're worse than this old man when it comes to nagging."
Mike cracked a grin.
That was exactly what he wanted to hear.
If the Old Master was willing to engage even a portion of his large-scale defensive tools, then at least the cities wouldn't fall without a fight.
As much as the old man grumbled, Mike knew him well by now. That sharp tongue hid a soft heart.
"Every day you're fussing over the people," the Old Master suddenly muttered, voice turning oddly grim. "But when are you going to care about yourself, huh?"
"If it really is random infection, and you're hit first, this whole setup you've built will collapse. You'd die for nothing."
"I'll be fine," Mike replied with a shrug. "I usually have decent luck."
"Luck?" The old man sneered. "As if that'll save your ass!"
Mike chuckled. "C'mon. Lin Yue's standing right outside. With her around, my luck's practically buffed. I doubt I'll be the one to get screwed."
"Tch. Idiot." The Old Master had enough of the conversation and cut the line abruptly.
Mike didn't mind. He was used to that kind of treatment.
Especially after the Dantu Campaign, where the Old Master had single-handedly turned the tide of a hopeless battle... well, Mike didn't care if the guy insulted him for the rest of his life. As long as he was willing to fight when it mattered—that's all that counted.
Besides, Mike had his own safeguards in place.
Aside from a full detail of elite guards and contingency measures, there was also the mysteriously vanished Wang Chen—currently in charge of monitoring Chen Yanshuo, but also silently watching over Mike's safety.
With a battle god like that on his side, Mike felt reasonably secure.
If fate truly decided to screw him over with random infection, then so be it.
After setting the gears in motion, Mike opened the city's communication hub.
To his relief, the fourth calamity hadn't impacted infrastructure yet. Comms were still online, forums were active, and the Jinling regional chat was... oddly excited.
Too excited.
"Hell yeah! It's finally here! Undead outbreak, baby!"
"Classic apocalypse vibe! If this was the first wave, I would've done my rooftop last-stand scene already—mowing 'em down from above!"
"Honestly, doesn't seem that dangerous. With our current military structure, these undead are just walking XP farms."
"LOL, time to bust out my antique full-plate armor. Zombies, come bite me—I dare you!"
"Quick! Log in to the disaster management portal and register for the 4th Apocalypse Security Forces! I'm ready to bash skulls and become the main character!"
"Heck yeah! I'm writing a new novel: 'Undead Apocalypse: I Traded Bread for 108 Celebrity Girlfriends!'"
"Too bad I'm still under lockdown. Otherwise, I'd be out there chopping heads. You can't skip a classic disaster like this!"
Despite the potential danger, the overall mood was surprisingly upbeat.
Mike wasn't exactly shocked.
The "undead" scenario was one of the most well-known apocalypse tropes in human culture. Nearly everyone had at least fantasized about surviving such a catastrophe. For many, it was less about fear and more about escapist hero fantasies.
Even Mike had imagined it before.
And to be fair, the command center had run countless drills based on zombie-type scenarios. Preparations were solid.
But just as he let his guard down slightly—
Gunfire erupted outside the window.
Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
Mike leapt from the couch and rushed to the window.
Outside, the residential compound's patrol unit had pulled up in armored vehicles, stationed near one of the buildings. All around them—strange figures were flooding in from every direction.
At first glance, they looked human.
But something was... wrong.
Their eyes were dull, lifeless. Skin pale and mottled. Viscous fluid dripped from their mouths, and a putrid stench filled the air.
The undead had arrived.
Mike watched closely—and instantly noticed something was off.
These creatures weren't the slow, shambling corpses people expected.
Their clothes were intact. No visible wounds. And they were fast—sprinting like wild animals, leaping over barricades, maneuvering with eerie agility.
Clearly, these weren't mindless husks. They had retained a degree of intelligence.
And their strength was terrifying.
Several undead were caught in net traps... only to tear through them with brute force. Parked vehicles that blocked their path? Flipped over like toys.
Speed. Strength. Smarts. The only unknown now was... how they infected.
But what shocked Mike the most—these undead didn't come from inside the shelters.
They were spawning out of thin air. Literally.
He watched, jaw tight, as empty streets one second suddenly filled with dozens of undead the next.
Good news: Survivors weren't being randomly infected.
Bad news: The undead were manifesting limitlessly.
At this rate, it felt like they wouldn't stop until they'd filled the entire planet.
Mike's voice was grim. "So... is the core of the Fourth Calamity… infinite numbers?"
Outside, a fierce battle had already begun.
The patrol squad had formed a perimeter around the vehicle, soldiers clearly well-trained and following undead engagement protocols.
They avoided close combat, sticking to ranged suppression.
On the rooftop of the vehicle, two machine gunners rose, dragging ammo belts as they opened fire in a devastating barrage.
Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!
The gunfire was relentless.
Though the undead were powerful, their flesh was still human. Bullets ripped them apart.
Up in the nearby buildings, curious residents peeked out, eyes glued to the battle below.
"Shoot the head! The head!!"
"Bro! Heads don't work! Look carefully—headshots aren't doing squat!"
Mike narrowed his eyes. It was true.
Despite clean headshots, the undead kept moving.
Some had their skulls blown apart—yet crawled back to their feet, unfazed.
A few were even headless, still charging with unerring precision.
"Screw TV shows, man! Headshots do nothing!"
"This one's down to just a freakin' arm—and it's still crawling!"
"What kind of monster survives with only an arm? The hell is this?"
"Doesn't matter! As long as they die to bullets, we can outlast them!"
"Outlast them?! Are you blind? We've gunned down hundreds, but the numbers aren't dropping—they're rising!"
"It's like they're being spawned endlessly! This is crazy! Why can't my stocks grow like this in peace time?!"
The truth was becoming clear.
This wasn't a normal undead outbreak.
This was a system-generated flood.
And it had only just begun.