Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

Chronic disease patients suffer from worsening conditions due to lack of access to regular medication, and pregnant women give birth alone without an obstetrician; some mothers and babies are safe, while others are left with permanent regrets.

Food and water have become more pressing crises.

Holy light pollution is not a conventional chemical or biological pollution, and its mechanisms are not yet fully understood by humans.

Sometimes, if only a field is splashed by a falling angel, the roots of that season's crops will turn an eerie blue. If humans and animals consume these crops, they will experience symptoms similar to radiation sickness, but not exactly the same: nausea, hair loss, internal bleeding, and then organ failure.

More water sources are being contaminated by corpses.

Not only human corpses, but also a large number of fallen angel corpses. Angels' bodies do not decompose quickly under the physical rules of the human world, but they will continuously release extremely small amounts of energy residue that are harmful to the human body.

These residues dissolve in water, are colorless and odorless, and will not cause death in the short term, but long-term consumption can lead to chronic energy poisoning, for which there is currently no antidote.

The survivors were forced to abandon rivers and lakes and turn to bottled water, but the bottled water supply chain had already been disrupted.

Supermarket shelves were emptied on the first day, and warehouses were requisitioned by various groups, both legally and illegally, on the third day. By the fifth day, clean drinking water had become more precious than gold in most of the disaster-stricken areas.

The food was in slightly better condition, but only slightly better.

Canned goods have a long shelf life, but they need to be dug out of the collapsed warehouse and distributed to the survivors. This requires organization, transportation, and order.

These three elements are luxuries when order completely collapses.

The number of people starving to death is not high yet.

However, the number of people suffering from malnutrition and various diseases due to weakened immunity is growing exponentially.

The casualty figures have become the coldest and heaviest benchmark at this point in time.

In the first hour, when the statistics system was still operational, the number was in the hundreds of thousands.

Six hours later, communications were largely disrupted, and the number of cases broke through five million, relying solely on radio reports from various Witcher squads.

Twenty-four hours later, when the guild's emergency satellite network had barely managed to build a rough global disaster map, Wu Heng looked at the areas marked in red and black on the screen.

This represents areas where large-scale casualties and uncertain conditions have been confirmed, with a very high probability of severe disaster.

He eventually pulled up a preliminary estimate from the console.

Ten million.

It is not the ten million people in the global population, but the number of people who have been confirmed to have died in this disaster that no one has yet been able to name.

This excludes those who are missing, those who are critically injured, and those who die as a result of secondary disasters such as famine, disease, or violence.

These are either the slaughter by the Bartholomewian faction, or the chaos indirectly caused by the moderate angels, or the human lives directly taken by the unconscious natural disasters of the mad angels.

Ten million!

This number is still stubbornly climbing at a rate of tens of thousands per hour.

And what about the survivors?
They hid in basements, in subway tunnels, anywhere far from the sky and away from the blue light.

The home I once knew is gone, my loved ones may never be found again, and the city I once knew has become a strange hell filled with deadly radiation, holy light pollution, and wandering monsters.

They huddled together in a small, damp, and dark space, sharing the last biscuit and the last half bottle of water.

The children stopped crying because crying would waste their precious energy, and because crying wouldn't change anything.

The elderly people used their last remaining painkillers to relieve the pain in their joints, silently waiting for rescue that might never come.

As night falls, day and night become indistinguishable. There are no streetlights, no neon lights, and no warm light shining from thousands of windows.

The city was plunged into a pure darkness unlike anything it had ever known. Occasionally, from a great distance, a loud bang of unknown origin could be heard, or a fleeting blue light could suddenly appear in a certain direction, signifying that another mad angel had finally ended its torment, or that another neighborhood had been attacked.

Then came an even deeper silence.

The survivors huddled together, afraid to make a sound.

They listened to their own heartbeats, the suppressed breathing of their companions in the darkness, and the mournful sound of the wind cutting through the broken buildings.

They are waiting for dawn.

But no one knows whether the sun will rise as usual.
-
When the death toll surpasses the blood-red mark of ten million, human civilization is no longer a unified concept.

It shattered into countless isolated islands: a few people huddled in a basement, hundreds of survivors crowded in a subway tunnel, dozens of residents blocking the door of a supermarket warehouse with shopping carts, and a barn guarded by a suburban farmer with a shotgun.

Between each isolated island lies an insurmountable death zone, filled with radiation contamination, scorching holy light, wandering mad angels, patrols of the Bartholomew faction, and their own kind, more terrifying than monsters due to despair.

Fifth Avenue, New York.

The once dazzling shop window is now broken and empty, with mannequins inside, stripped bare, slumped on the broken glass, their plastic faces frozen in hollow smiles.

The streets were covered with overturned cars, debris from fallen building facades, and bloodstains that had congealed into dark red patches.

A fallen lamppost spanned the sidewalk, its top still flashing and crackling uncontrollably.

Thirty-seven survivors were crammed into the underground rehearsal room of Carnegie Hall.

This place was once a sanctuary for artists to hone their skills. Now, a poster for a Mozart concert still hangs on the wall, but below it are piles of bottled water and canned goods stolen from a nearby supermarket.

The air was thick and heavy, filled with the smells of sweat, fear, and rotting wounds.

A little girl lay in her mother's arms, with a persistent low-grade fever, and the edges of the burns on her arm from the holy light tinged with an abnormal blue.

There is no medicine.

Pharmacists at three nearby hospitals either died, fled, or were killed by rioters who stormed into the hospitals to seize medicines.

"Will she die?" The five-year-old brother tugged at his mother's clothes.

The mother did not answer.

She just hugged her daughter tightly and stared at the ceiling.

The murals that once depicted angels playing harps now appear particularly ironic under the dim emergency lights.

A low arguing could be heard coming from the doorway.

Several men wanted to go out and find medicine, even if it meant trying their luck on the edge of the territory designated by the angels.

Several others objected, believing that going out would be suicide, and no one could convince anyone else.

This dialogue is taking place simultaneously in tens of thousands of refuge corners around the world.

The Shard ruins in London.

This glass cone, once hailed as the tallest building in Western Europe, is now reduced to a dozen or so crooked ruins at the bottom.

In order to hunt down the three moderates hiding there, the angels of the Bartholomew faction directly used holy light cannons to bombard the upper and middle structures.

More than two hundred ordinary citizens were unable to evacuate in time. This included hotel guests, restaurant patrons, and tourists, all of whom fell with the collapsing floors and died without a trace. (End of Chapter)