Cataclysm: Undead Dragons and Zero Empire

The roar of the steam tower trembled low and muffled under the leaden sky. Howard stepped on the metal floor of the command center, the beeping of the communicator never ceasing.

On the large screen above the central command post, all the scrolling data streams were hidden at the technical end. What was presented to the leader was a direct image. Howard could freely manipulate the planetary model in front of him and watch the flashing dots on it.

On the map of cities in the Northern Hemisphere, the blue halo representing city number three is brightening at a visible rate, tinged with an unsettling red glow.

"General, the last steam tower in the third northern city has stopped working," the staff officer said with a numb calm as he pushed the report in front of Howard. "Energy control has been in place for over seventy-two hours. The hypothermia wards have collapsed first, and the death toll has risen to five figures."

Howard's gaze fell on the number at the end of the report, a number that seemed like a rusty nail, threatening to pierce a bloody hole in his bloodshot eyes.

Since the Ice Age began, numbers have been updated daily, and human life is degenerating into cold statistical symbols in the harsh cold.

He raised his hand and pressed his throbbing temples, his knuckles turning white from the force. Just then, the encrypted communicator suddenly lit up with a dark red warning light, indicating that Terence, the leader of the Death Faction, had connected via a private line directly to the central command post.

"Howard, it's me," Terrence's voice came through the phone, with the muffled sound of wind and snow hitting metal in the background. "Our people on the 'Ark' sent back a final message: fifteen minutes ago, the entire space station was placed under lockdown."

"Martial law? What's the reason?" Howard's fingertip traced across the planetary model, pointing to the northern city number three that had just been reported to him. The satellite view zoomed in rapidly, and he could see that the city was completely covered in ice and snow, and the orbits that once represented transport lines had long since been extinguished.

"There has been no official notification," Terence said somberly. "Our people photographed the bulkhead notice before communications were cut off. It only contained the message 'Beware of external threats.' Combined with the previous reports about the space station adjusting its orbit, it's likely to avoid collisions with space debris, given that too many satellites in orbit are obsolete."

But I highly doubt what those parasites are really up to. If it were just routine adjustments, they wouldn't have declared a state of emergency.

A new report came in from the command center: a riot had broken out in the third northern city. Desperate and out-of-control crowds broke through the metal fences of the relief food distribution point and clashed with the army maintaining order. The snowflakes were stained dark red with blood.

"Have the army suppress the ringleaders, and at the same time issue a notice that the Death Cavalry will guarantee the supply of materials," Howard's order was calm to the point of cruelty. "Move emergency energy over there, arrange airdrops, and protect the core area of ​​City Three until the roads are cleared."

He pressed the communicator, and the staff officer, seeing this, immediately saluted and left with orders. Howard continued speaking to Terrence, "Do you think it's related to dragons?"

"Based on my understanding of them, the probability is close to one hundred percent," Terence said in a cold, hard tone, with a chilling air, when the topic of the Lord came up. "Remember those unusual rocket launches during the Corporate Wars? On the surface, they were for destroying nuclear waste and rebuilding satellite systems, but in reality, they were transporting space station components."

There were signs even before World War II; these parasites would sooner or later build themselves a paradise to escape the mundane world.

Howard walked to the observation window of the command center, wiped away the frost on the glass, revealing a frozen world outside. In the distance, white steam was spewing from the top of a steam tower, which quickly dissipated in the cold wind, like the fading body temperature of human civilization.

"I'll check the situation," Howard said, looking out at the snowstorm. "If they do take any action, we must prepare in advance."

After the communication was cut off, the Death Faction's intelligence network sent him encrypted images. The thrusters on the surface of the "Ark" spewed flames, tracing a path against the backdrop of the planet gradually turning pale, like a venomous snake preparing to escape.

Between Earth and the Moon, the Ark's annular section rotates at a constant speed, simulating a gravity environment similar to that of the Earth's surface. Looking through the observation windows, the ice-covered planet resembles a faded gem, while the interior of the space station presents a completely different scene, untouched by the apocalypse.

Neon lights flowed across the casino's marble floor, holographic projections created a tropical beach illusion, palm trees swayed in a virtual breeze, and waves crashed against a non-existent beach, forming an absurd contrast with the frozen planet outside the window.

Waiters in backless dresses carried silver trays between the gambling tables, where bubbles of chilled champagne rose from the constant-temperature system. A gambler pushed his chips over, indicating he was going all in, the light from the yellow crystal on his wristwatch reflecting off the glass.

In the bar next door called "Stardust," bartenders were skillfully mixing cocktails for VIPs. With a flick of their wrists, they precisely poured purple syrup into crystal glasses, where it automatically separated from the base spirit. The lemon slices adorning the rim of the glasses glistened under the lights.

The large screen was playing a video about gene optimization services, showing models strolling in a garden, with a sweet background voice announcing: "Say goodbye to the harsh winter on the ground, and enjoy eternal spring on the Ark."

Inside the restaurant's private room, silver cutlery was laid out on a silk tablecloth, and the waiters served steaming steaks paired with red wine from a private cellar from the old days. The guests' communication screens were playing live footage of company meetings, and everything seemed so languid, with conversations taking place in hushed whispers.

Few people know that the space station had already begun construction in secret before the outbreak of World War II. Giant companies formed the "Ark Alliance," which drove countries to fight on the ground, selling their own products, while at the same time plundering wealth in the name of "post-war reconstruction," sending resources into space continuously.

The soldiers who died on the battlefield, the workers who died from exhaustion on the factory production line, and the homeless people who collapsed in the corners of the slums, were all just bargaining chips for them to divide the discourse on the space station.

In the corporate war, a victory grants a corresponding proportion of resources. For example, the deaths of tens of thousands of people in a battle allow Glorious Heavy Industries to occupy the space of an additional biological laboratory on the space station.

When the martial law alarm sounded, the casino guests only glanced briefly at the flashing red lights before continuing to immerse themselves in their games.

They have complete control over everything, like a hand gripping a scepter. They don't care whether the earth is no longer under the company's rule. This paradise has gathered all of humanity's advanced technologies and is already self-sufficient. They are more concerned about the resource allocation plan for the next quarter.

Inside the space station's main control center, light and shadow construct a three-dimensional model of the lunar surface, with its dark outline appearing and disappearing against the backdrop of the universe, and the winding keel occupying the center of the model.

A series of encrypted reports scrolled slowly on the projector screen, cold and objective, without any data annotations, only cautious descriptions of the unknown:

【Observation Log No. 739】:

The target object continuously releases an abnormal energy field with a stable upward trend in intensity, causing observable disturbances to the surrounding space. Its energy characteristics are unknown and are different from any known energy form. After exploratory contact, the instruments experienced widespread intermittent malfunctions, suggesting the existence of unknown physical effects.

[Abnormal Effects Assessment Updating]:

The energy waves emitted by the target object were found to have special interference characteristics, causing electronic equipment to malfunction and some observation instruments to exhibit time reference system deviation. It is recommended to add redundant monitoring nodes to avoid data loss.

[Response plan is being updated]:

The target has not shown any hostile characteristics, but its potential threat level is high, and it has the potential to threaten the operation of the "Ark". The "Fire Seed Project" has been activated at the highest level, the space station has been placed under martial law, the weapon systems have been put into preheating, and the emergency immigration capsule has been opened for pre-testing.

On the auxiliary screen in the corner of the projection, ground monitoring footage is playing in real time, as if only the machines here still remember the human civilization struggling to survive on the surface.

The communicators at the central command center on the surface seemed never to stop, constantly receiving new emergency calls. Howard stared at the monitoring data of the space station's orbit on the screen and suddenly recalled what Terence had said at the end of the call:

"They thought that escaping to the heavens was like ascending to paradise, enough to escape the torments of hell, but the destined judgment is never hindered by such a distance, and sinners will surely fall into the deepest abyss of hell."