After I died, my personal maid rebelled.

The snow melted in February, and there was no fighting on the southern front...

Intelligence from the Special Operations Department poured in like snowflakes, and on the map of the southern part of the Central District, village after village was being wiped out—physically wiped out.

It seems that the human species has been subject to some kind of extermination plan. The elderly, children, women, and men—some became rotting, stinking corpses, while others were completely wiped out.

The enemy currently has two openly operating armies: one is the cannibalistic locusts and hungry imps led by the Hunger Curse, and the other is the Fallen Peasant Army and the Blood Hunters, which are being closely monitored by the Special Forces and are recruited by the Salvation Church.

Before the war officially broke out, the Northern Territory was busy evacuating its people, while the Goddess's forces were trying to kill as many people as possible.

Finally, a small number of rational civilians came to their senses and, with their families in tow, embarked on the journey north.

Lucas, who followed the refugees south and then north, mingled with Monet in the crowd, silently watching one wounded refugee after another fall into the mud by the roadside.

Vultures followed closely behind their herd, and whenever a carcass fell behind, they would immediately swoop down and tear it apart with their sharp talons, letting out a final, mournful cry.

Monet stood there, covering her mouth. The man between the bird's wings had lost the strength to struggle and could only stare blankly at Monet, tears streaming down his face.

"Let's go. Our pity is meaningless. We've already missed the stage where empathy could change the world. It's either live or die..."

Lucas, a former member of the Goddess faction, understood the meaning of killing better than anyone else.

The goddess doesn't need to lift a finger; whether it's someone who helps her, someone who opposes her, or an innocent person, their only fate is death.

The goddess needs their deaths; the plan is merely a means to an end. The only worthwhile task is to cause as many people as possible to lose their lives.

Monet seemed to have rediscovered the world; her appearance remained unchanged, but Lucas could clearly sense her growth.

A pair of eyes that are no longer naive or reveal too much emotion is a maturity called numbness.

Silence. There was only silence in the fleeing crowd. Exhaustion made people speechless, not to mention that many of them had suffered severe psychological trauma when they escaped.

Fear gripped his throat, and it also drew in his pursuers.

The large procession of thousands of people walked along the road like a long, winding, and intermittent snake.

The city of Kuru, which had long been a stronghold of the Church of Salvation, naturally discovered this group of passing refugees. When the city gates opened, dozens of Blood Hunters kicked up dust and rushed towards the rear of the group.

Half an hour later, Lucas noticed the commotion behind him. He hoisted the immobile Monet onto his shoulder, drew his sword, and shouted at the people around him.

"Run! Run! The monsters are catching up!"

The crowd began to accelerate, which quickly caused congestion. Lucas knew that someone had to stop them, otherwise the entire team would be wiped out.

A rustling sound came from the jungle. Lucas took a deep breath, seized the moment when the Blood Hunter pounced, stepped forward and slashed horizontally. The burst of blood grazed the corner of his eye, and the Blood Hunter was also cut in two.

But the next second, a Blood Hunter rushed out from the other side and had already crushed an old man's neck.

"Run, children..."

The old man, who died on the spot, gave his final warning. His body was quickly devoured and dismembered, and the blood hunter's head even burrowed into his lungs, just to obtain the still relatively fresh blood.

Enraged, Lucas cleaved the Blood Hunter's head in two with his sword, but more and more Blood Hunters surged out of the jungle, deftly avoiding Lucas, this solid rock, and heading towards the congested section of the group.

Outnumbered and outgunned, Lucas could only grit his teeth and pursue the enemy, only to witness the birth of a bloody hunting ground.

The Blood Hunter, capable of high-speed charges, can cut down more than a dozen refugees in an instant, its sharp claws shaving off their skulls and turning them into blood-drinking tragedies.

"teacher……"

"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, Monet, don't be afraid." Lucas's swift slashes reopened a path to survival for the refugees, but the refugees' flesh and blood attracted far more monsters than just Blood Hunters.

The buzzing in mid-air was like heavy rain falling to the ground, and the broken branches and leaves scattered all over the sky, revealing bright red man-eating locusts.

They leaped swiftly onto the refugees' faces, crushed their eyeballs, and then slowly began to devour them from their backs.

Lucas was trapped in this inferno, surrounded by hoarse wails. His hand holding the sword trembled slightly until a volley of arrows, carried by a gale, pierced through the forest and dispersed the blood mist in the woods.

"Son of the North, defend the honor of humanity, defend the honor of the messenger!"

The Northern Army's patrols charged out, their precise Molotov cocktails striking the Blood Hunters and igniting them into flames. Rapidly firing crossbows accompanied their charge, unleashing a hail of arrows that swiftly wiped out the swarms of man-eating locusts.

"Maintain the line, block the flanks, and cover the civilians' evacuation!"

Leading this hundred-man patrol was a veteran from the first round of the Kuogu City Army's formation, and also an officer who had recently graduated from military academy.

After observing the terrain, he immediately ordered his soldiers to set fire to the trees on both sides with Molotov cocktails. This bought time for the refugees to escape while quickly setting up a defensive position, making full use of the advantage of long-range firepower, and avoiding direct confrontation with the monsters.

"The Blood Hunters charge in a straight line when they attack. Seize this opportunity and unleash Molotov cocktails on them!"

"The fewer man-eating locusts there are, the less dangerous they are. Getting bitten is nothing! Each combat team must stick close together and try to put armor on the soldiers outside."

The chaos was swept away by the army's iron-willed order. From the start to the end of the battle, it only took seven or eight minutes for the patrol guards to repel the monsters' combined attack.

"You're quite good, young man. You're the first civilian I've ever seen who dared to take up a sword and fight back!"

The veteran patted Lucas heavily on the shoulder, then sighed, "Let's go. There's no time to bury them. The dead don't have to suffer anymore, but the survivors have to keep fighting."

Lucas nodded, bewildered. He put Monet down and watched the old soldier take off his helmet and hat in front of the fire, then grab a handful of bloody dirt from the ground.

"One day, this land will stop bleeding, and we will overcome despair and usher in hope and new life."

Since the patrol guards began protecting refugees, Lucas has long felt the stability brought by order. The previously sparse lines have become well-organized, and even their walking speed has increased significantly.

The wounded refugees were dragged by horses, while soldiers of the Northern Army guarded the sides of the column, walking alongside the crowd.

This kind of discipline cannot be trained overnight. The soldiers' natural and uncomplaining gazes made Lucas realize that humanity's hope had never been lost.