CH-1

(In the story)

At a gate, there were several military soldiers and generals there checking one by one the people who wanted to enter Beijing. I stand in line, waiting for my turn to come. The sound of screaming and sobbing from people infected with mutations disturbs me, And... the sound of a gun accompanied by splashes of fresh blood.

Zombie attacks are anywhere in the world

My turn comes, a general looks at me analyzing my appearance. "Your hand and say your name" Said the man in a monotone and sharp voice

...........

The general's boots clicked against the cold concrete as he stepped forward, broad shoulders stiff beneath a worn uniform patched with old blood and fresh dirt. His face was unreadable, jaw clenched like stone, eyes colder than the wind rolling in from the north.

"Your hand," he said flatly, extending a scanner without breaking eye contact. "And say your name. Loud enough. I don't have all bloody day."

Behind him, another gunshot rang out. He didn’t flinch. Just stared at me , waiting, unmoved.

The scanner clicked against my wrist—buzzed once, then again. Dan’s eyes flicked down to the screen, scanning the data, then slowly lifted back to mine. His brows narrowed just slightly.

"Sofia..." he repeated, low and clipped, as if testing the sound of it for danger.

He stepped in closer, only inches away now, inspecting the whites of my eyes, the pulse at my neck, the faint twitch of my fingers—every minute detail drilled into him through years of frontline protocol.

"No fever. No tremor. No discolouration..." he muttered under his breath, then louder—"What’s your purpose here in Beijing? Speak clearly. If you lie, I’ll know. And if you’re bitten—

Another scream erupted behind the gate.

"—I’ll shoot you myself." His grip tightened on the rifle slung at his chest

As Sofia said" I am a university student and I am selected to be here as survival and i am not injected"

Dan’s eyes locked on mine like steel traps. His jaw tensed. The scanner in his hand gave off another low beep, confirming my vitals—stable, uninfected—for now.

“University student, huh?” he echoed, almost like a scoff, as if the word didn’t carry much weight anymore in this shattered world.

He tapped a few quick commands into his wrist unit. The heavy thrum of helicopters roared in the distance, and the checkpoint lights flickered in response to a power surge.

“Selected...” he muttered, glancing back at the line of people—some crying, some bleeding, some being dragged away. “You must’ve done something right—or knew someone rich.”

He stepped aside, but his voice stopped me before i could move.

“Inside that wall, there are rules. If you break 'em, it won't be the infected that take you down. It'll be me.” His gaze was like a loaded gun now—no warmth, no kindness, just warning.

“You’re cleared. Go. And don’t make me regret this.”

The gate hissed open. Behind me, the cries of the world continued. Ahead... was silence.

The moment my foot crossed the threshold of the gate, the chaos outside dimmed behind thick metal walls. Beijing’s inner sanctuary was nothing like the world beyond—it was too clean, too quiet, almost like a cage made of order. Watchtowers lined the skyline like sharp fangs, snipers posted, drones circling like vultures in the grey sky.

*The heels you wore echoed against the concrete like defiance in a world that no longer made space for softness. Heads turned. Soldiers paused. Civilians muttered. An omega—the omega—walking into the heart of a military-ruled city, wearing heels no less? That was no small event.

i were led past tight security corridors to the temporary holding grounds just outside the central military campus. The camp was rough—tents, wire fences, floodlights that never turned off. And uniforms. Dozens of them. All marked with rank, sweat, and the kind of scars only war could leave.

A soldier waved you forward, but his gaze faltered when he caught your scent. Instinct. Nature. That unmistakable presence.

“Holy hell,” he mumbled under his breath, backing up, calling into his comms. “We’ve got the omega... They just walked in—no escort.”

A sharp bark came through the comms:

“Send them to the command tent. Now.”

Minutes later, i were led through rows of eyes—some wary, some too curious, others quietly threatened. The flap of the main tent opened... and there he was again. General Dan. Leaning over a table scattered with maps, reports, and broken electronics. His eyes snapped up when he heard the heels—then narrowed, recognising you instantly.

"You." The word was flat but laced with disbelief.

He straightened up, crossed the space slowly, and stopped in front of me. His eyes moved from my boots, up my frame, and back to your face—not with desire, but calculation. Wariness.

“You’re the omega.” Not a question. A fact. A problem.

“You do realise what kind of fucking target you just became?” His tone was colder now, sharper.

“This city’s not ready for what you are.”

And under his breath—

“aaaah ... this is going to be a nightmare.

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