"Anyone scratched by an R-Type Mutant is a ticking bomb. She could turn at any moment. Thirty minutes is all it takes. She can't stay on the train!"
The shout cut through the roaring engine and the howling wind outside.
"But she's our Deputy Captain!" someone yelled back. "She was injured protecting us. How can you just throw her away?"
"Am I being heartless?" another voice snapped. "That strain mutates fast. One infected person can wipe out a hundred. Are we supposed to risk the other ninety-seven people on this train for one?"
The armored train tore through the Northern Ice Wastes, steel wheels screaming against frozen tracks. Inside one of the rear carriages, the team was split into two furious factions, voices clashing louder than the storm outside.
At the center of it all sat Elena Ward.
She was quiet.
Too quiet.
She leaned against the cold metal wall, long lashes lowered, her breathing shallow but steady. Without saying a word, she drew her saber.
Then—without hesitation—she sliced into her own arm.
Someone gasped.
The blade cut deep. Elena gritted her teeth and dug out the blackened, infected flesh with ruthless precision. No anesthetic. No painkillers. Just steel and willpower.
When the tainted flesh fell to the floor with a dull thud, she finally hissed, a sharp breath escaping her lips. Cold sweat rolled down her pale face, tracing her jaw before dripping onto her boots.
"Stop—don't—"
Lila Ford couldn't bear it anymore.
Her eyes were red as she rushed forward with the last roll of gauze from the med-kit. Her hands trembled as she wrapped Elena's arm.
"Deputy Captain… Elena…"
Elena looked up and smiled faintly.
"I'm… fine," she said softly, though her lips were bloodless.
Once the wound was secured, Lila turned, her voice shaking as she faced the man standing near the window.
"Captain Cross. What's your decision?"
Every head turned.
By the frosted window stood Adrian Cross.
Tall. Straight-backed. Dressed in a black tactical coat dusted with snow. His sharp brows cast shadows over eyes as cold as gunmetal, his jaw set like stone.
He hadn't spoken once.
That silence scared everyone more than shouting.
Some of those arguing to throw Elena off the train felt uneasy. After all, Adrian and Elena had fought side by side for years. She had saved his life more than once. Surely that bond meant something.
The carriage fell silent.
Hearing his name, Elena slowly lifted her head.
She knew he wouldn't play favorites. She knew this world didn't allow mercy.
But still… she hoped.
Just a little.
Adrian never looked at her.
He flipped a bullet between his fingers, the soft metallic click echoing through the carriage.
"Fair's fair," he said coolly. "We vote."
Something inside Elena broke.
In this broken world, where survival was everything, who would choose one life over many?
The result was merciless.
Eighty-nine votes against her.
Seven votes in favor.
Adrian walked toward her.
He stopped in front of Elena and extended his hand—not to help her up, but to deliver a verdict.
"Elena Ward," he said evenly. "Leave the team."
She stared at him, searching his face. Searching for hesitation. Regret. Anything.
There was nothing.
The train screeched to a halt.
Adrian pulled her down onto the frozen ground, the wind slashing like knives. He led her behind a small snow-covered hill, barely shielding them from the storm, and tossed her a pack.
"Fire starter. Three days of food."
This was a blizzard zone, crawling with mutant hordes. The train had already been delayed. A return trip would take days.
Knowing what that meant, Elena asked quietly, "You never voted. What was your choice?"
Adrian fired several shots, dropping a pair of wandering mutants before they could get close.
"With numbers like that," he said, "would my vote have changed anything?"
Elena lowered her head.
"But I'm scared too," she whispered. "Not just Mia."
Officially, he had to abandon her.
But personally?
She stepped closer, voice shaking. "If you showed even a little hesitation… I'd accept dying here."
Adrian didn't.
Instead, he frowned.
"You were infected by an R-Type strain," he said coldly. "There's a one-in-three chance you'll turn. We can't risk that."
"Wait here," he added. "I'll come back."
She reached for him.
"Adrian—"
He raised his gun and aimed it at her forehead.
"That's an order."
Her heart froze.
She swallowed everything she wanted to say.
"When the mutant attacked," she said hoarsely, "you shielded someone else first. What am I to you?"
His reply was merciless.
"There's no room for feelings in life-and-death situations."
"No personal relationships between base members. Mia is a rookie. As her instructor, it's my duty to protect her."
"You're a veteran. Don't argue with a newcomer."
Then he said the words that shattered her completely.
"Elena Ward, I thought you were more sensible."
Tears slipped past her lashes and froze mid-fall in the icy wind.
Time was running out.
As he turned away, Adrian added quietly, "Stay alive. You're not easy to kill."
Watching his back fade into the white storm, Elena gathered her strength and shouted—
"If you find my family… please keep them safe for me!"
He never turned around.
---
Three days later.
Deep within the North Sector, a modified SUV rolled across the frozen plains.
A dark-skinned man leaned halfway out the window. "Hell—look at these corpses! All headless!"
The red-haired woman driving slapped him hard. "Shut up. Never seen decapitated mutants before?"
Drake rubbed his head. "I'm saying—who the hell did this? Killing this many with a blade?"
The man in the back seat opened his eyes.
He wore white. His smile was lazy, elegant, and unsettling.
Julian Crowe glanced outside. "Using a blade?"
Drake perked up. "Exactly! Everyone uses guns now—who still fights with knives?"
Julian's smile deepened. "I know someone."
Maya Ash laughed softly. "You mean Elena Ward from District Thirteen."
Drake nodded eagerly. "Her saber skills are insane. She's stolen so many supplies from the East Sector—"
Smack.
Another slap.
Before Drake could protest, Maya slammed the brakes.
Her face went pale.
"Black coat. Silver moon blade," she whispered. "That's Elena."
Ahead, a lone figure staggered through the snow—armor torn, blood frozen dark against white, dragging a curved blade behind her.
Julian's smile vanished.
His eyes narrowed, sharp and dangerous.
"Stop the car," he ordered.