Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

"Don't move." The voice came from the left.

Bobby rolled his eyes, a movement that triggered another wave of dizziness, and saw Dean's face appear at the edge of his vision, his face full of fatigue and worry, his chin unshaven, and his eyes bloodshot.

“You were unconscious for a day,” Dean said softly. “Concussion, skull fracture, and… that thing coated the bullet with some kind of neurotoxin. The doctors said it’s a miracle you survived.”

Bobby opened his mouth, his throat as dry as a desert.

Sam handed Bobby a glass of water, holding the straw to his lips. Bobby took a few sips, the cool water flowing down his throat, slightly relieving the dryness. He tried to speak, his voice hoarse and broken: "Have you seen the files...?"

“I saw it.” Dean picked up a tablet from the bedside. The screen lit up, displaying a directory of encrypted files. “The stuff you risked your life to bring out, Lor has already had the tech department analyze it.”

Bobby closed his eyes, and fragments of memories flooded back.
A day earlier, after cleaning his floor, he received a new message about internet addiction, so he went to the third basement floor of the New Era Biotechnology headquarters.

He was wearing a janitor's uniform and pushing a garbage cart through the corridor.

The surveillance cameras were jammed in advance, the security guards' patrol schedule was memorized, and everything went smoothly until he opened the door marked 'R&D Department'.

There was no experimental equipment in the room, only rows of shelves filled with glass jars.

Each jar contained human organs, some intact, some sliced, all with an unusually pale yellow color.

On the control panel in the center of the room, the screen displays real-time data: infection statistics, progress of food supply chain penetration, and... a complete flowchart of the 'human breeding program'.

The flowchart shows the clear steps: extracting the substance from the water source, screening susceptible individuals, centrally transporting them to Sulfos Hospital, classifying and storing the substance, and large-scale processing.

Finally, we obtained an important piece of information: the Divine Word Tablet.

As he turned to leave after taking the last photo, the door opened, and Dick Roman stood in the doorway. He wasn't the impeccably dressed CEO in the photo; he was a different version: his skin was pale, almost transparent, revealing a network of pale yellow veins underneath; his eyes were yellow, without pupils, like two luminous amber beads.

Bobby didn't say anything, but reached for the machete at his waist.

“Don’t bother.” Dick revealed his fine, needle-like teeth. “This building is full of my employees, and they’re all very interested in you.”

The doors on both sides of the corridor opened simultaneously.

A group of humans emerged, their skin covered in Leviathan larvae, their eyes yellow, and their movements stiff.

Bobby fought his way through the crowd and ran up the emergency staircase. Bullets came from behind him; the first grazed his ribs, and the second hit the back of his head.

He remembered tumbling down the stairs, his vision darkening, and the last thing he saw was a fire evacuation map posted on the stairwell wall. Then it was all darkness again.

The memory ends.

Bobby reopened his eyes and looked at Dean: "The tablet... the tablet of the Word of God, Leviathan is looking for it."

“We know,” Sam replied. “It’s mentioned in the documents, but we don’t know exactly what the stone slab is or where it is.”

Bobby shook his head with difficulty: "The information is incomplete. The last few pictures I took show that the stone tablet is in the Academy of Prophecy, and a man named Kevin Tsui can interpret it..."

He was panting heavily as he said this, and Dean pressed down on his shoulder: "Stop talking, rest."

At the same time, Internet Addict sent a message: "Leviathan has sent impersonators to impersonate Witchers and commit crimes in various places. The guild is in big trouble now..." Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, their faces darkening.

At the same time, the atmosphere in the Witcher Guild's command center seemed to freeze.

The large screen displayed information in three columns: on the left was the FBI's latest nationwide wanted poster, which contained twenty-two photos of registered Witchers, including Dean and Sam.

In the middle are reports of heinous crimes that have occurred in various places over the past twelve hours: bank robberies, convenience store shootings, gas station arson... Surveillance footage from each crime scene captured the figures of demon hunters, wearing guild equipment and using demon hunter weapons. On the right is the government communication channel, with a flashing red light indicating that communication has been interrupted.

Reno stood in front of the console, his fingers flying across the keyboard, trying to clear negative information from the internet, but with little effect. Several young witchers whispered among themselves, their voices filled with anxiety.

"The Kansas branch was searched, and all weapons were stored away..."

"Three brothers in Chicago have been arrested on charges of plotting terrorism..."

"Can we still get out? We'll be arrested as soon as we show our faces..."

The door opened.

Wu Heng walked in, followed by a middle-aged man in a dark gray suit, who was the vice president, David. David was carrying a black briefcase, and his face was serious with a calm look in his eyes.

“Quiet,” David stepped forward and said.

The command center fell silent instantly, and everyone looked at him.

David walked to the main screen, opened his briefcase, and took out a document.

"The arrest warrant will be withdrawn within two hours." His voice was steady and strong. "I had an emergency meeting with senior officials from the Department of Justice and the FBI, and presented some evidence, including biological samples from the Leviathan imitators, and data showing that their real DNA left at the crime scene did not match the Witcher's DNA. They agreed to believe us for the time being, but on one condition."

He paused, then looked at everyone present.

"The guild is required to provide financial compensation and psychological counseling to the families of all victims in the areas involved in the case. The amount is not small, but it must be given. This is hush money, and also... an indulgence, even if the perpetrators are not really you."

Some people muttered curses, but no one objected.

Everyone understands that this is currently the only way for the guild to continue operating.

“In addition,” David continued, “starting today, all field operations must be reported and a full report must be submitted after the operation. The FBI will send observers to the Guild, nominally for supervision. In reality, we don’t need to pay attention to them, but we need to accept this arrangement, at least for the time being.”

"Regarding the issue of imitators, the technical department is already researching identification methods. Although Leviathan's disguises are perfect, they have subtle flaws at the energy level. Once the detection equipment is completed, it will be able to distinguish between the real and the fake."

He brought up a new interface that displayed a comparison chart of energy waveforms.

“The fluctuations of a real person’s soul are natural,” David said, pointing to the screen. “Imitators are at a fixed frequency, like machines, with very little difference, but they exist.”

Renault raised his hand: "When can the equipment be used?"

"A batch will be produced as quickly as possible. Before that, all Witchers will work in pairs, verify each other's identities, change the code every day, and use memory details known only to the real person as verification."

The order was issued swiftly, and the command center sprang into action again, but the atmosphere was more relaxed; at least a response plan was in place. (End of Chapter)