True Apocalypse Game

BOOM! With a massive explosion, all the plastic explosives detonated simultaneously, blasting large holes into the surfaces of the six buildings.

The walls of the Arctic buildings were multi-layered and extremely thick, but even they couldn't withstand the destructive power of the high explosives.

The temperature inside was higher, and the massive difference between inside and out caused the fierce Arctic winds to immediately pour into the buildings. People inside were blown off their feet, and various objects were sent scattering everywhere.

A group of warriors from the world's most elite Special Forces units immediately stormed in to begin their mission.

Looking down from the air, nothing could be seen on the snow-covered land, which was enveloped in the polar night.

But now, some light was shining out from the breached buildings.

What followed was the sound of dense gunfire. It mixed with the howling Arctic wind, seeming jarring at first, but soon blending in as if it were part of the storm.

Sporadic, violent explosions rang out—the sound of grenades and flashbangs.

The base's defenses were actually quite strong, but after the polar night began, the entire base had let its guard down.

After all, trying to find them in this dark realm, on the vast Arctic landscape, was like finding a needle in a haystack.

Besides, faced with these sudden invaders, the mercenaries from Blackwater Company and several other security firms were completely outmatched.

Having been thrown into disarray by the initial explosions, they were plunged into a one-sided slaughter.

The gunfire and explosions were intense at first, but as the militants were gradually eliminated, the sounds of battle slowly faded.

Soon, the gunfire stopped completely. The vast majority of the resistance forces in the Arctic Base had been eliminated.

"Use solid-state gel to seal the walls again," Liszt ordered from inside the building, where the lights flickered erratically.

This building, though part of a base, looked more like a research facility.

The bodies of mercenaries were strewn everywhere. A group of researchers in white lab coats were huddled in a corner of the room, their hands bound.

They were only wearing ordinary cold-weather clothing. If the large holes in the walls weren't sealed soon, they would likely freeze to death.

Even in this short amount of time, they were already shivering uncontrollably, with snot and tears streaming down their faces.

Meanwhile, the bodies of the freshly killed mercenaries were rapidly stiffening and were being used as material to patch the holes in the walls.

The bodies were propped in the gaps, where they would soon freeze solid and serve as excellent boards.

Liszt's orders were to take as many prisoners as possible; he had no desire to bring back a pile of frozen corpses.

"No. 2, over here." Just then, the helmeted captain of the Flood Dragon Special Forces called out to him.

To facilitate coordination for this operation, the captains each had a callsign. Liszt was No. 2, the Flood Dragon captain was No. 1, and the Signal Flag captain was No. 3.

"No. 1, what is it?" Liszt asked with a frown, jogging toward the other building where No. 1 was located.

To his surprise, however, aside from the mercenary bodies littering the ground, there was no sign of No. 1 or his team. There were even a few bodies in white lab coats, evidence that No. 1's team hadn't held back and had killed some of the researchers in the blast.

On the floor was a square entrance. Apparently, this building had an underground section, and No. 1's team must have gone down into it.

Liszt's brow furrowed. He led a dozen of his team members in, rifles at the ready, and spoke as they entered in single file:

"No. 1, our orders were to take prisoners, especially the researchers. How could you just... God, what is that!?"

By now, he had descended two floors down the stairs—or more accurately, two floors beneath the ice—and his jaw dropped at the sight before him.

Right before his eyes, in the center of this underground structure, was a massive ice pillar two meters in diameter. Frozen in the center of the pillar was a yellow sphere of light, like an eyeball made of luminescence, slowly rotating.

The ice pillar was surrounded by a glass chamber. Countless pipes and wires were connected to the pillar, seemingly drawing energy from the sphere of light.

The entire underground facility was filled with all sorts of precision instruments, and there was even a ring-shaped accelerator similar to a particle collider.

Dozens of researchers in white lab coats were kneeling on the floor with their hands on their heads. An old, white-haired man, also in a lab coat, was pinned to the ground with No. 1's boot on his face.

No. 1 was also looking at the sphere of light in the ice pillar and the surrounding equipment. He spoke in a low voice:

"Those people outside don't matter. If they're dead, they're dead. This is the one we want..."

He then looked down at the old man pinned to the floor and said slowly:

"...Isn't that right, former Nobel Prize nominee in Physics, a leading figure in the world of quantum physics, the very Mr. Pulang who 'disappeared' a few years ago while on vacation in Indonesia?"

The old man, pinned firmly to the floor, struggled desperately to get up, but he was no match for the other's strength. He gave up struggling and, lying on the floor, let out a sinister laugh.

"Yes, it's me. Let me guess, did that traitor Joe betray us? I always knew he couldn't be trusted. I bet you just had to scare him a little and he'd spill everything. What would a piece of white trash who dreams of being a movie star know about loyalty? He'd probably piss his pants from a single slap..."

"But what does it matter if you know it's me? It's all too late. Even if you found our Arctic Base, it means nothing. Under the guidance of Cthulhu, the Sea Beast is about to enter the Abyss. Humanity's end is coming. Everything will be purified..."

No. 1 remained unmoved. He asked coldly:

"How do we stop the Wormhole? Dear Mr. Pulang... or perhaps I should call you the head of the Purification Society Arctic Branch?"

At the side, No. 2, Liszt, had a look of complete confusion. He had no idea what No. 1 was talking about. It was clear that No. 1 knew far more about the inner details of this mission than he did.

However, out of professional discipline as an elite Special Forces operator, he didn't ask questions. Instead, he ordered the dozen or so members of his team to remain vigilant and check for any other hiding spots.

Just then, No. 3 also arrived. His expression was just as bewildered as Liszt's. The two exchanged a glance and finally understood that No. 1 was the absolute commander of this mission.

After all, only he possessed the complete mission intelligence.

Hearing No. 1's title for him, Pulang was stunned for a moment, then let out another sinister laugh.

"It seems you caught more than just Joe... Stop the Wormhole? HAHAHA, HAHAHAHAHA... If you had any basic knowledge of cosmology and quantum mechanics, you'd know that a Space Wormhole like this is irreversible. If you try to terminate it by force, it could collapse into a micro-wormhole, fall directly into the Earth's core, and suck the entire planet dry! The Sea Beast is coming! It's all too late! And our god will soon descend to purify the whole world and grant us eternity!"

Liszt now understood. This Arctic Base belonged to a mysterious organization called the Purification Society. The name sounded vaguely familiar, probably some kind of cult.

The Space Wormhole that appeared on the Arctic Circle seabed was actually connected to them!

The true objective of their mission was to find a way to close that Wormhole.

But this scumbag obviously had no intention of talking.

No. 1 turned to the other two and asked:

"No. 2, No. 3, my friends, do you have any methods for making people... cooperative?"

Liszt shrugged his shoulders.

"We SEAL Special Forces are responsible for killing, not torture."

Then he looked at No. 3.

The captain of the Signal Flag Special Forces, No. 3, gave a sinister laugh and said:

"My two friends, no disrespect, but your operating environments are perhaps a bit... simpler. After all, neither Hua Country nor Eagle Country is like ours. The Chechnya wars alone were a bloody Hell, and Signal Flag's business is a bit more complex. Making someone eager to talk—to tell the truth—that's one of our specialities. I can turn an autistic person into a stand-up comedian in under an hour."

As he spoke, he looked down at Pulang with a sincere expression and asked:

"Mr. Pulang, have you ever seen a piece of bacon, frozen brittle, being shattered bit by bit?"

Immediately after, he ordered the men at his side:

"Get Mr. Pulang into a cold-weather suit. Leave his left arm exposed, and drag him out into the snow."