Chapter 1 Ethan Lowe

The shattered earth stretched out with countless cracks, black smoke obscuring the remnants of the sunset's glow. On muddy roads, countless people trudged with difficulty, their faces filled with despair and fear. From time to time, someone would fall into a crevice, and cries and shouts never ceased.
A procession of tens of thousands formed a long line. On both sides, at intervals, stood warriors whose bodies had been enhanced to protect them; these people were called Evolvers.
Since the sudden catastrophe on Earth half a year ago, Evolvers had appeared one after another.
At the rear of the procession, Ethan Lowe looked into the distance. A hair-raising chewing sound reached his ears. With a roar, a mutated dog over two meters long with scarlet eyes burst from behind a burning tree, blood dripping from its mouth as it charged toward the procession.
Many survivors screamed in terror at the sight. Ethan Lowe's eyes sharpened; he drew a strange weapon from his waist—it looked like an iron rod but was sharpened on one end like a blade.
Leaping up, Ethan Lowe slashed downward with one hand, effortlessly severing the mutated dog's head. Blood splattered on the ground, staining the grass red.
Seeing the mutated dog dead, the procession quieted down and fearfully continued forward.
Ethan Lowe retracted his iron rod and glanced at it; there were a few cracks on the surface. "Doesn't look like it'll last much longer," he murmured.
As the sun set, the land plunged into darkness. All the Evolvers lit fires that stretched along the procession, hoping to use this method to ward off mutated beasts. The procession also halted.
Venturing into unknown places in the dark was tantamount to seeking death.
A hoarse electric current sound rang out. From the walkie-talkie at Ethan Lowe's waist came a voice "Evolvers with numbers ending in three, search for food within a one-kilometer radius."
Ethan Lowe's Evolver code was 103. He looked at the slain mutated dog, picked it up, and tossed it to the front of the procession. "Eat up."
A commotion arose within the procession, followed by several men stepping forward to handle it. They seemed accustomed to this, even though human bone fragments were still at the corners of the mutated dog's mouth.
A single mutated dog was only enough for about twenty people. Ethan Lowe stepped away from the fire, gripping his iron rod as he walked into the distance.
The sound of chewing never stopped echoing in his ears. In the darkness, pairs of green glowing eyes stared at Ethan Lowe. They were mutated rats—ugly in appearance but with edible meat.
Swinging his iron rod, Ethan Lowe killed more than a dozen mutated rats, carried them back, and tossed them toward the procession. That was enough for his side.
Suddenly, a miserable scream sounded. Without looking, Ethan knew an Evolver had died. He didn't plan to help; who knew what had attacked the Evolver? Perhaps a venomous snake, blood-sucking mosquitoes, or powerful mutated rats capable of biting through steel. Such creatures were not uncommon in the wild.
The procession was very quiet; everyone hid behind the flames, as if a thin layer of fire could truly protect them.
Ethan Lowe looked at these people with pity, then raised his head to gaze at the sky. The stars were so brilliant and bright. The once-polluted air had completely recovered half a year ago, accompanied by countless biological mutations, including humans themselves.
No one knew the cause of these mutations. It was as if overnight, all creatures became terrifying, and many people turned into mindless zombies, devouring living beings everywhere.
The remaining survivors had all become somewhat stronger physically. Although the change wasn't significant, they could become stronger by consuming the crystals within mutated creatures—that's what Evolvers were.
Overnight, Earth seemed to have returned to ancient times, where the weak were prey to the strong. The vast arsenals that once dominated Earth were almost all destroyed. Ethan Lowe had witnessed the explosion of his city's arsenal firsthand, as if modern weapons were no longer tolerated in this era.
A fierce wind blew past. On the ground, a blood-stained newspaper was pinned under a rock, rustling softly.
Ethan Lowe picked up the newspaper and read the headline "February 3, 2200—a day to be recorded in history. On that day, Chicia's Sky Five landed on Neptune. Faye Brown became Earth's first astronaut to explore Neptune, a gas giant planet. On that day..." Ethan discarded the newspaper. A little girl cautiously handed him a roasted beast leg.
Ethan accepted the leg and smiled faintly. "Thank you."
The little girl shyly smiled back and ran into the procession.
The beast leg tasted terrible; even with seasoning, it was still unpalatable. However, Ethan ate with satisfaction. Only when full would he have strength.
The flames suddenly flickered. Ethan swiftly drew his iron rod and struck down hard, killing a mutated mantis that had darted through the fire. If such a creature broke into the procession, it would cause significant casualties. Its bladed arms reflected a red glow, no less sharp than Ethan's iron rod.
Throughout the night, Ethan rested only two hours. During that time, he killed over a dozen mutated creatures attempting to attack the procession.
There were no casualties on his side, but elsewhere was different. In one area, dozens of survivors and Evolvers were killed, massacred by a giant mutated wild boar. The boar could shoot hard bristles, and a single attack could take many lives. If not for the intervention of several stronger Evolvers, the casualties would have been even greater.
As the morning sun rose, the procession continued southward. They were heading to Jawington, the largest settlement in the Scotsey Province area. There were troops there, many Evolvers, and a man known as Chicia's Saint Arthur—Arthur Cook.
In the half-year since the apocalypse, many Evolvers had emerged, including top-tier powerhouses known as the Seven Saints.
Although communication was still not smooth nowadays, they could contact each other. Not long ago, Evolvers had been clearly classified into levels ordinary Evolvers who had just consumed crystals; human-level powerhouses who possessed the power to crush ordinary Evolvers; and above them were earth-shaking powerhouses capable of destroying cities, also known as Earth-level.
At the top were flying-level powerhouses, as the name implies, capable of flight—also known as Heaven-level powerhouses. The Chicia Seven Saints were these seven Heaven-level powerhouses.
After half a year of apocalypse, this was the only way to classify them. Perhaps in time, there would be a more systematic classification. But as long as those seven powerhouses capable of flight didn't die, they would always stand at the top. This is also the origin of the title "Saint." Perhaps it was also because countless survivors hoped for their protection.
The Jawington settlement had a Saint—Saint Arthur, Arthur Cook.
The procession continued onward; they were still over a hundred kilometers from Jawington. A journey of a few hours in peaceful times would now take several days.
Several miles away from the long procession, countless wandering zombies slowly approached, as if they had smelled living flesh.
The Evolvers on both sides of the procession were nervously on guard; many showed fear. Although these zombies weren't fast, they had great strength, and their blood was highly toxic. Once touched, even an Evolver's skin would fester, eventually losing sanity and becoming like them—that was the most terrifying part.
Ethan squinted, gripping his iron rod tightly. Fighting zombies wasn't difficult; they were always the same, unlike Evolvers who could become stronger. This was something countless survivors were grateful for; if zombies could also grow stronger, they would truly have no way to survive.
Currently, the greatest enemy of survivors was mutated beasts.
Just as Ethan and the others were preparing to battle the zombie horde, the zombies suddenly stopped, then turned and left. Ethan's heart skipped a beat—a bad premonition arose.
The ground suddenly shook. Ahead of the procession, a gigantic vine rose from the earth. Its branches and leaves, as if sentient, grabbed many survivors. Amidst their cries of despair, all the captured were crushed into blood, soaking into the soil where the vine rooted.
All survivors fled in terror; even many Evolvers did the same.
Ethan's eyelids twitched. This mutated vine had definitely reached Earth-level strength; ordinary Evolvers couldn't match it, even if there were human-level powerhouses among them.
The Evolvers in the procession had no intention of fighting; they all retreated to avoid the vine's range.
After a long while, the vine seemed to have had its fill and retracted back into the earth.
Countless survivors wept bitterly, crying out in despair. Many people suffered mental breakdowns in such an environment, even some Evolvers.
Soon, a hoarse electric sound came from the walkie-talkie at Ethan's waist "Rest here; Saint Arthur will personally come to meet us."
Upon hearing this news, countless people cheered. To survivors nowadays, Heaven-level powerhouses were like gods; as long as one appeared, any problem could be solved.
Ethan showed a mocking expression. A saint? He covered his left arm with one hand; even now, half of his body still ached—a piercing pain that forever reminded him of that night's events.
An entire city was abandoned. All the remaining thermal weapons were unleashed into the city; wails were everywhere. Half of his body was burned, and when he looked back, he saw those aloof eyes and dazzling golden light.
Oscar Lewis—he would never forget that man known as Saint Lucas, one of the Seven Saints, who made him experience extreme pain. Ethan swore to repay this pain tenfold.
As the flames rose, the sky turned dark. Ethan was about to rest when screams and cries came from nearby.
He frowned and turned to look. A hundred meters away, several girls were surrounded by more than a dozen Evolvers, who were wantonly teasing them. Several of the girls were almost stripped naked, silently weeping.
This scene was not unfamiliar. In the apocalypse, human nature had sunk—it was normal. Ethan had seen it many times. In such an environment, wanting protection without paying a price was impossible.
Ethan closed his eyes, his mind relaxing slightly.
In the distance, a girl screamed as she was slapped to the ground. "Damn it! I'm risking my life to protect you—what's wrong with having some fun? Don't be ungrateful! A few days ago, even a little celebrity was with me. Now, even if she begs, I won't touch her. Get up!"
The girl glared angrily at the Evolver, her eyes red.
The surrounding Evolvers grinned and laughed. They loved this era; they could play recklessly, and no one could control them.
A gust of wind blew, and suddenly, a person appeared before the Evolver—it was Ethan Lowe. At this moment, Ethan's iron rod was pressed against the Evolver's neck. He said flatly, "Leave."
Silence fell around them, broken only by the silent sobs of the girls.
The Evolver threatened by Ethan wore an ugly expression. Gritting his teeth, he said, "Lowe, this has nothing to do with you. They're under my protection."
"You're disturbing me," Ethan said blandly. He pressed the sharp edge of the iron rod down; immediately, the Evolver's skin split, blood flowing down the rod.
Horrified, the Evolver said, "Fine, fine, you're ruthless. They're yours. I won't touch them."
Ethan put away his iron rod and walked back indifferently. Many in the procession quietly watched; they were long accustomed to such scenes. Even if the girls had been killed, no one would have helped. To them, Ethan seemed very strange.
The dozen Evolvers exchanged angry glances but didn't act rashly. They knew Ethan was very strong.
The girls ran behind Ethan, wanting to say something. He closed his eyes and ignored them. They could only look at him gratefully and sit down cautiously.
After a while, a young woman with striking looks and revealing clothes approached Ethan with a smile. Her sharp gaze swept over the girls, scaring them into stepping back and lowering their heads in fear.
Satisfied, the woman sat beside Ethan and blew softly into his ear.
Ethan raised his hand, gripping her neck. Opening his eyes, he said coldly, "If there's a next time, you die."
Her gaze turned sinister, but she forced a seductive smile. "You're still so heartless."
He released her, staring coldly. "What do you want?"
She rubbed her neck, rolling her eyes at him. "You've offended someone, you know."
Ethan didn't reply.
She continued, "Theo and his group are plotting against you. They have more than a dozen Evolvers, and you're alone. You can't handle them. Be careful."
"Thank you," Ethan replied blandly.