“Mm… This gear’s kinda heavy.”

Kanata felt the armor weighing heavily on her shoulders, the supply-packed backpack just as cumbersome—a lot for her small frame to handle.

Days bedridden in the hospital left her body feeling weak, her steps lacking lightness. To avoid falling behind or becoming a laughingstock, she popped a few painkillers.

Strong meds came with side effects—like weakening immunity against viruses—but no time for hesitation.

After the fifteen-member squad crossed the abandoned construction site, they split up.

“Keep eyes on your phones. Updates go straight to the group chat. Rendezvous at 2 a.m. Good luck, everyone.”

S finished the briefing. Hunters formed teams or went solo, scattering in all directions.

Kanata was a lone wolf. Likely, no one wanted a young girl slowing them down—no invites came.

Wandering aimlessly through the wild, her Infected-tracking map showed several red dots a kilometer ahead.

Clear enough: signals from dreaded creatures. Scattered, each over a kilometer apart. If they’d been clustered in ambush? She wouldn’t have dared.

The map couldn’t ID species—only Imperial Guard radar could—so she pressed on foot.

*If I snag a high-grade Core… sell it for a couple hundred grand… Nozomi’s medical bills for months would be covered.*

Just thinking it made the pack feel lighter.

She picked the most isolated red dot and followed the map. Pushing through thick woods, the view… was anything but open.

Ahead lay a vast graveyard—or more truthfully, a mass grave.

Decaying corpses in Imperial Guard uniforms lay nearby, sleeve insignias still visible. Soldiers infected beyond cure, abandoned here to die. Harsh reality.

Crooked tombstones littered the ground, inscriptions erased by wind and sun. Bare bones poked through weeds. The air hung thick with decay.

Rot stench seeped through her mask, assaulting her senses.

“Ugh…”

Gritting her teeth against the churning in her gut, Kanata quickened her pace past fallen comrades, praying their souls would find peace and be reborn.

This endless burial ground was Falling Cherry City’s final resting place for the lower-class dead. If she died on duty? Ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent chance she’d end up dumped here too.

No turning back now. Seven thousand credits—her Imperial Guard monthly wage was only five. Eight hours’ work for easy seven grand? And with luck, even more.

“Alessia… to hell with your warnings.”

All those interviews, all that advice—nothing against cold, hard cash.

Suddenly, the map’s alarm flashed.

The target she’d marked was moving straight toward her.

Once Infected sensed human presence, they turned unnaturally sharp.

A single word flashed in Kanata’s mind: *Danger.*