Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

Dean realized that the weathered, unshaven, tired yet sharp-eyed face was clearly his own!
It was my future self!

"How did I become like this? What happened?"

Driven by his curiosity, Dean followed the group of survivors to a shelter converted from an underground parking garage.

The entrance was reinforced with rusty iron sheets and sandbags. Inside, it was dimly lit, with a few flickering oil lamps, and the air was filled with the smells of sweat, mildew, and cheap alcohol.

In a corner, he saw Castio.

This once angel now huddled in a pile of tattered cloth, her iconic trench coat filthy and covered in unidentified stains.

He was clutching a half-empty plastic bottle tightly in his hand, which contained murky homemade liquor.

His eyes were unfocused, and his face showed numbness and despair, the result of long-term exposure to alcohol and worse.

He couldn't sense any angelic power; he felt like a completely emptied and discarded container, like a useless person.

Dean mingled among the group of people, much like a homeless community.

Until a day later, he witnessed a scene that terrified him.

As he followed the group, he became curious about what had happened in the city. Taking advantage of the crowd's inattention, he secretly sneaked into the city's central square. His pupils dilated instantly, and an expression of disbelief appeared on his face.

The center of the plaza had been transformed by an evil force, with huge runes engraved on the ground, burning with green flames.

A figure sits atop a towering throne constructed of bones and twisted metal.

That's Sam!

No, that's not Sam. The body he knows is inhabited by Lucifer!
He leaned lazily against the throne, toying with a flickering black flame between his fingers, his gaze sweeping over the demon legion of various forms prostrate below.

That gaze was filled with coldness and mockery of all living things.

The city has been completely taken over by hell!

Dean felt his blood freeze and his head go black. His brother, Sam, had become the shell of the Lord of Hell!

In the days that followed, Dean continued to follow the team and participate in various activities.

In reality, however, they are constantly investigating.

In the future, under his own leadership, during a search operation, Dean found several notebooks that had been carefully hidden in the ruins of a dilapidated library.

The handwriting was messy, the paper was yellowed and torn, and it recorded despair, struggle and fragmented information.

He pieced together a rough truth from it:

A demonic plague called 'Clotoran' is ravaging the world. Those infected quickly lose their minds, become extremely bloodthirsty, and attack all living things.

The source of this virus, as the notebook trembled, was Lucifer. In order to efficiently eliminate unsuitable humans and select the 'vessels' that could perfectly contain his power, he released this 'chemical' weapon.

The last few pages of the notes are increasingly illegible, as if the writer was struggling with immense pain and regret:
"I was wrong. I always tried to stop him, to lock him up, thinking that would protect him and save him. But I might be the one pushing him into the abyss!"

"The key isn't to stop him, it's to trust him! Trust Sam, trust that he can overcome what's inside him. Trust him. He's stronger than I thought."

trust.

These two words, like a red-hot branding iron, burned fiercely into Dean's heart.

He didn't know exactly what had happened. Before he arrived, Sam was in good condition, and with the medicine provided by Lor, Sam had no risk of 'bloodlust' whatsoever. So why did things turn out this way?

Is all this true?
In reality, Sam and Dean's relationship hasn't soured. On the contrary, through various trials, the two brothers have developed a stronger rapport and greater trust in each other.

Working out in the 'sunlight' was a completely different approach, which made Dean suspicious.

The surrounding scenery began to distort and peel away, like a shattered mirror. He was violently dragged away from this rotten and desperate 2014 by that force.

Training camp, Dean's barracks.

After finishing the team's report, Sam habitually headed towards Dean's room to discuss the next training plan.

He pushed open the half-closed door. The room was empty, the bed was in disarray, and Dean's coat was draped over the back of the chair.

"Dean?"

Sam called out, but there was no response. A strong sense of unease gripped him instantly. He rushed out of the room, his eyes scanning the camp sharply.

Almost simultaneously, a barely perceptible ripple appeared in the air outside the barracks.

Wu Heng's figure seemed to emerge from the ripples of water, quietly coalescing.

He appeared without warning, his gaze immediately falling on Dean's empty room, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.

Zachary's slight perturbation about the 'future' was like a pebble thrown into a pond of his perception, creating ripples.

But in his eyes, that so-called future was nothing more than a result of extensive deductions based on existing variables and rules. At least, his own destiny was something that an existence of Zachary's level could not possibly glimpse or define.

But he is here in this world now.

What's the point of 'deduction' that excludes him?
"President?" David Xavier rushed over with several core members, alerted by the subtle energy fluctuations just now.

Upon seeing Wu Heng, the group was taken aback, but then their eyes blazed with undisguised fervor.

The gazes of these men, who were walking on the edge of life and death, toward Wu Heng were more intense and devout than those of the most fanatical fans.

"Why did you come in person?" David asked respectfully, suppressing his excitement.

"Just need to take care of something." Wu Heng's tone was calm and even. His gaze passed over David and landed on Sam, who looked anxious. "Sam, don't worry."

Castio, standing to the side, said with a solemn expression, "There is the lingering aura of heaven here!"

Wu Heng nodded: "It was Heaven's doing, but Dean is not in danger this time and will be back soon."

Just then, the space around Dean's bed in his room twisted strangely, as if the surface of water had been disturbed.

Dean's figure suddenly tumbled out of the middle and crashed heavily onto the mattress.

He was drenched in cold sweat, as if he had just been pulled out of the water. His chest heaved violently as he gasped for breath, and his eyes still held lingering fear and despair.

He raised his head, and his unfocused gaze gradually focused.

Before him stood Sam, who had gathered around him, his face filled with worry; and Lor stood silently to the side, unfathomable, seemingly having anticipated his arrival.

It was Bobby who rushed over upon hearing the news, still holding a wrench in his hand, and who had even lost one of his shoes.

There stood Castio, his eyes still somewhat dazed but now clear-headed; and David, his face fierce yet unable to conceal his concern, and his men. (End of Chapter)