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March 17th, 20xx — 05:10 AM
Zone 3B-Δ – Rooftop
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Jiang Roulan hit the stairwell hard. Her shoulder struck first, then the rest of her body crumpled onto the rusted landing below. I didn't need the system to tell me she was in critical condition. I'd seen people die enough times to recognise the signs.
But something in me didn't break. It shifted.
Not grief, not rage.
Focus.
The Titan Marrow Sutra surged through my limbs like boiling oil moving beneath glass. Controlled. Contained. Waiting.
[Bond Alert: Jiang Roulan — Critical Status. Stabilisation Window: 06:59]
[Parasite-Type Mutation Detected — Stage 2 Confirmed]
The rooftop was a mess. Sloped concrete, cracked tiles, twisted vents. Patches of blood smeared across debris and broken rebar. Someone had set up a forward watch here—old crates, ammo scattered, a burned-out radio still sparking in the corner.
Eight men remained. I could hear them moving. Talking. Laughing.
None of them had seen me yet.
