20:32:53.

Jerusalem, the New City.

Ayara Fujimoto looked up and saw that this used to be a warehouse hall of more than 100 square meters. The aisle in the middle was separated by transparent nylon cloth. Old computer parts were everywhere, and some pixelated data screens from the last century were placed in the corner, but they only had some blurry images on them.

The air was still filled with the smell of decaying flesh. Several fixed medical steel beds were scattered around the corners, but of course no one was lying on them. Only broken iron chains remained. The sheets were stained with blood, excrement, and pus. There were several rusty craniotomy knives in the iron trays next to them. It looked like a biological experiment site.

In short, the atmosphere was very well created, giving the whole area a feeling of suddenly switching from a disaster movie to a horror movie.

He took stock of his weapons. He didn't have many bullets left, not a single grenade left, and less than seven miscellaneous firearms in total. Half of them would be useless against mutated creatures, like plastic bags. He still had two daggers, but they wouldn't be of much help; they would be convenient for suicide.

Just then, a faint cough came from behind the nylon cloth. Without thinking twice, Fujimoto Ayara walked over with her gun in hand.

Sometimes it's hard to imagine what you might encounter in such an apocalyptic region.

They couldn't see the theatrical shows inside the castle, or the meat grinder feast at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

In Jerusalem, audiences tend to portray those who die at the hands of Andrei as elegant and noble, as if the blood of those poor wretches was damn golden when they died in the church.

But in reality, it's not like that at all. No matter where you are, once you die, what comes out of your body is dirtier and more disgusting than you can imagine.

After pushing aside the nylon sheet, what appeared before Fujimoto Ayara were more than thirty medical steel plates, and each bed had a person locked on it.

The one closest to him was clearly a handsome young man in the past, but now, his body below the thighs had been torn off, most likely by a mutated creature. The wounds hadn't been treated at all; judging from the cross-section, they had been bitten off piece by piece.

He lay there amidst the chaos, covered in excrement and urine. His only intact arms were tightly bound by chains to the side of the bed, showing that he had struggled violently, the chains already embedded in his flesh.

But the coughing sound he had just heard did not come from this person, but from a cage placed around the iron bed, inside which was a human who was still in a semi-mutated state.

The creature inside was slowly gnawing on something. He leaned closer to take a look and found it was a leg bone... At that moment, Fujimoto Ayara suddenly realized that it was the bone of the man on the bed.

He lay there as if he were about to die, numbly watching his own legs being bitten off alive by his fellow human.

The young man stared blankly at the ceiling. The bloody and horrific experience had completely shattered his mind, leaving him unable to think or respond to the suffering inflicted upon him.

And he couldn't even commit suicide.

Fujimoto Ayara walked over, broke the chain on his shoulder, and then blew the head off the monster in the cage with a shot.

The man finally showed some signs of life; he moved his eyes and looked at him.

"Give me a quick death."

"I'm sorry, I sympathize with you, but bullets should be used for meaningful purposes."

As Fujimoto Ayara said this, she roughly tore off several external testing patches attached to the person's head, and some of the hooks had already reached into the skull and were fixed to the instrument.

He sighed, but still carefully removed them all, then took off his blood-stained coat and covered him with it.

The others woke up one after another, staring at the scene before them for a few seconds. Some began to curse, while others vomited directly. The vomit splashed onto their wounds, causing them to howl in pain.

Then they fell silent in tacit agreement. Fujimoto Ayara was hoping someone would tell him something useful. He walked in, unlocking the shackles on several other people. Both sides were filled with similar tragedies. Most of them had suffered indescribable torture. Losing their hands and feet was considered relatively acceptable.

They all had instruments attached to their heads—those things were a real pain in the ass because they not only drilled into the skull, but some even went deep into the brain, which made them delirious. Several of them died, probably because the perpetrators found there were too many people and were too lazy to move them, or perhaps they simply thought that having so many corpses there would look good.

He didn't find it particularly inhumane; his gun-raising gesture remained calm as he surveyed the room as if nothing had happened.

Is the world of 346 really so chaotic and without any rules? That's unrealistic. Mutant species should also have leaders, like the two hellish areas of the theater and baptism.

Just as he was thinking this, Fujimoto Ayara felt a slight force brush against his arm.

He looked down at the woman on the steel bed. A glimmer of life appeared in her eyes as she looked at him with a helpless and desperate expression. Her voice was hoarse: "Do you know... when... it will end?"

"I haven't been here long either." He paused, then took out his phone and checked the time: "About ten hours more."

As soon as he finished speaking, the woman began to cry silently.

Fujimoto Ayara didn't know what to say, and actually, it wouldn't make a difference what she said; what could she possibly say at this point?

Having survived under the mutated creatures until now, she was definitely not a coward or ignorant person. But everything she endured here was designed to shatter their sanity, drive them to complete collapse, and make them wish they were dead.

The woman sobbed for a while, snot running down her chin. She was like a delirious child, clutching her hospital gown tightly with both hands, as if this flimsy thing could change anything for her.

Finally, she spoke up again. Anyone who could hold on until this point, whether human or something else, knew that an emotional breakdown was enough for a while, but if it continued, people would die.

“This is… a region that the Lord of the Flies and the priests do not favor.” She choked up as she spoke, “Then, Beelzebub’s flesh and blood contaminated all living things… There was a man who said he came from the world outside Jerusalem.”

“Eoubs?” Fujimoto Ayara didn’t know he would say that, but whenever he heard something immoral and without any bottom line, he would subconsciously think of his former employer.

"How did you know?" The woman paused, her lips trembling violently, as if she couldn't continue. "He said... he was a D02 operative, and he was accidentally trapped inside this forbidden object..."

He said…

"Everyone will die here."