Abyss Summoner

The sandstorm rolls on, the Great Desert is wrapped in desolate smoke.

In a city that is still somewhat prosperous—the so-called prosperity is relative to the current apocalypse, when most places globally are in ruins—here, it has been challenging to establish a human base by relying on wisdom and strength.

However, with the apocalypse’s sudden change, the so-called law and Order have long ceased to exist, and under such circumstances, a survivor base naturally divides into two classes.

Humans and scavengers.

The former possess notable power, or rely on the strong, enjoying ninety percent of the resources, while the latter are at the bottom of the city’s hierarchy.

Besides scavenger they have other names, meat dogs, stinkbugs, any despicable term you can think of might be applied to them.

There is nothing more brutal than this world.

Those at the very bottom, the stinkbugs, offer no objections; for them, survival is already a luxury. As for other thoughts? They have none.

But when this distorted environment seems set to continue for a long time, a staggering figure steps out of the slum, heading towards another affluent street.

The slum emits an unpleasant stench, as every day someone dies, left unattended until a rotting corpse is finally removed. It’s a vicious cycle; the so-called scavengers are more like a group of festering maggots, muddling through without a shred of humanity.

Compared to the stench-filled slum, the environment where [Humans] live is entirely different; it’s extremely clean, and more importantly, strives to maintain the appearance from before the apocalypse. Many professionals continuously power the living areas, and, surprisingly, there’s even an amusement park, with laughter and joy on one side and wailing on the other—the world never had fairness.

And just as the [Humans] revel in everything here, an uninvited guest unveils his disguise and descends upon this land.

"Why is this happening? Why is it completely different? Why?" muttered the man, with a hint of confusion in his tone.

The man is at the bottom of the slum; his most cherished daughter died of hunger. During that time, he frantically sought food but could only obtain a scant amount. Rather than dying of hunger, it was more accurate to say she died of being weak.

Scavengers have no rights.

In this apocalypse, ninety percent of the man’s family met a tragic end, but fate was kind enough to leave him an adorable daughter, preventing him from being alone in this desperate world.

The man vowed not to let his daughter suffer any mishaps, but things went contrary to his wishes; he is not a professional, merely a weak scavenger.

Due to his weakness, his daughter ate nothing but moldy, smelly food every day; more often, it was merely bark and weeds.

Under such conditions, her health deteriorated, ultimately dying last month.

And this, is his enduring pain.

The "man"’s body begins to change, like old wall paint peeling away, his skin starts to fall off inexorably. Within mere seconds, he transforms into a fresh Blood Corpse.

But what’s most astounding is that even without skin, his blood doesn’t flow to the ground; rather, it clings to his body like viscous liquid.

He...

Undergoes some kind of special transformation!

"Why has the world become this way? Why must we crowd into those harsh environments while these people live comfortably?" he murmurs, stepping firmly, resolutely, leaving footprints as he walks towards the crowd.

"Who goes there!" As he approaches the crowd, a shout comes from the wall.

The Warriors on duty, upon seeing the Blood Corpse’s horrifying appearance, instantly become alert, hastily stepping forward to stop him from advancing.

The man’s appearance is terrifying, without any skin, exposing blood vessels and muscles for all to see; the Blood Corpse looks like a Ghoul from Purgatory, unsettling everyone.

Ignoring them, the man pays no heed to their warnings, continuing to step forward.

"I told you to stop!" A Warrior notices something unusual, and a group quickly surrounds him, pulling out guns and raising them in front of the man.

"Food?"

"My baby is hungry, needs food."

But facing these dark barrels, the man’s blood-red eyes show not an ounce of fear; instead, they are filled only with a calm to the extreme, bloodthirsty to the extreme, determination to slaughter.

In his eyes, these Warriors pointing guns at him for orders, their so-called lives, resemble mere bugs...

This is the boundary between the slums and the rich; the affluent forbid those stinkbugs from freely entering their sanctuary. Consequently, when verbal warnings fail, Warriors are permitted to shoot freely.

The Warriors, of course, will not stand idly by; a moment later, they all raise their guns without hesitation, pulling the trigger.

The closer the distance, the greater the lethality; at such proximity, naturally, they cause significant damage.

Moreover...

Given his truly horrifying appearance, to everyone, his strange stance alone has already drawn their attention and intent to kill!

However, witnessing all this, the man shows not even a hint of fear, his gaze instead more piercing as he looks at the Warriors, with power surging through him.