When she first encountered these characters from the story, Calista had almost failed to contain her excitement.
But that initial thrill had long been worn away by several weeks of real, full-contact training.
Sure enough, less than ten minutes later, Calista was kneeling on the tactical mat with her head lowered, rewrapping her hand bandages. As expected, several fresh bruises had appeared on her forearms.
Fuck!
Her arm really hurt. Honestly, it wasn't that different from the cramps she was having right now.
Yes—just as the sparring session had reached its final moments, a familiar warmth had suddenly spread between her legs. Her lower abdomen tightened painfully, the cramp nearly making her seize up.
And in that exact instant, her right arm took another heavy punch.
Don't be fooled by Carver's usual trash talk and show-off attitude around her. During training, he showed absolutely no mercy.
The scattered bandages all over Calista's body were entirely his doing.
"You've improved."
No kidding. She could last ten minutes now.
The very first time they sparred, Calista hadn't even finished getting into her stance before one punch knocked her flat. Her combat ability had been so weak that even Carver had been stunned.
"Warm-up's over. Today we're learning something that actually draws blood. Burmese sword techniques."
The former Delta Force member saw her still kneeling on the mat and poked her shoulder with the back of his knife.
"You're not crying, are you?"
Calista was breathing like an exhausted animal. She had long since given up caring about appearances. With that little poke, she simply collapsed sideways onto the mat.
"Please, Carver! I've already drawn blood! Let me rest for a bit. I'm so sore I can't even lift a knife right now!"
Carver looked her up and down suspiciously.
"Hey, don't blame me. Where exactly did you draw blood?"
Calista pointed at her stomach.
"I didn't hit you there!" Carver shouted loudly.
His ambiguous outburst earned him a huge eye roll from Calista—and also attracted Leah's attention from not far away.
"What's going on? Carver, are you bullying her?"
The crease between Leah's brows deepened.
"No! I'm just training her normally!" Carver complained. "It's the young lady suddenly acting delicate again!"
Honestly, everyone had originally assumed Calista was just a rich girl looking for excitement when she decided to learn all this.
At first, they had all taught her rather casually, afraid of hurting her.
Only after realizing she was genuinely serious about learning did they start training her properly.
And now this again! Carver thought irritably.
Before Leah could say anything, Calista quickly reached out and grabbed her hand. Pouting, she complained,
"I got my period! And he took advantage of my cramps to punch me hard!"
Leah glanced at Carver but didn't comment. Instead, she pulled Calista to her feet and started leading her toward the dining hall.
"Come on. It's lunchtime. You can rest this afternoon."
Carver stumbled over his words, trying to explain.
"I—I didn't know you were, uh…"
The tips of his ears beneath his black hair slowly turned red.
Calista ignored his explanation. Leaning comfortably against Leah's support, she secretly turned her head and flashed Carver a provocative smile from an angle Leah couldn't see.
...
Twilight Manor was a very classic American-style estate.
In the dining hall of the main building, brass chandeliers hung from the domed ceiling. Twelve floor-to-ceiling windows cut the sunlight into slanted patterns across the room.
More than twenty high-backed chairs surrounded a ten-meter walnut dining table. Silver cutlery and a stack of simple military mess kits were neatly arranged on the embroidered tablecloth, creating a strangely harmonious scene.
"This stuff is way better than MRE seasoning packets!" the sniper Jenson shouted while holding up an ornate soup bowl. Thick soup dripped from his beard into the collar of his camouflage jacket.
Next to him, the Black soldier Wells was slicing baguette with a dagger, the blade narrowly missing an antique porcelain plate under Mrs. Howard's horrified gaze.
"Life in heaven probably isn't even this good!" communications soldier Danny said, spearing a baked escargot with his fork while winking at the teammate pouring him red wine.
At the other end of the table, three mercenaries were using bread crumbs to recreate the animal tracks they had discovered while wandering through the mountains the day before.
Bossie watched for a moment, then suddenly leaned over.
"No way, man! That's not a grizzly. The claw spacing is all wrong!"
Calista sat at the head of the table. Leah was beside her, while Dr. Evans sat at the opposite end. The Howard couple sat nearby, chatting with him.
After washing up and taking some ibuprofen, Calista was fully recovered. She carefully spooned stew from a military mess container onto a porcelain plate.
She squinted comfortably, like a lazy cat, watching the lively scene around the table with satisfaction.
Life had been far too easy lately.
There were thirty-two mercenaries in total, including Leah. Nine of them had families. After resting for a few days, they had already flown off to reunite with their loved ones.
The rest were all alone.
Calista had completely hooked this group with the estate's luxurious living conditions. They had decided to stay here until the next mission arrived.
Everything had gone smoothly. Surrounded by mercenaries every day, Calista felt completely safe. She had almost forgotten the apocalypse was coming.
She had been paying close attention to the news. So far, there had still been no report about Rick being shot. Everything seemed calm.
Still, Calista couldn't shake the feeling that she had overlooked something.
What was it?
She mentally reviewed everything she had prepared.
Food. Medicine. Fuel. Personnel.
The vehicles had been arranged long ago, not to mention the five Humvees Leah and the others had brought. The helicopter had arrived a week earlier.
Her personal assets had already shrunk by more than half.
Luckily, Twilight Manor belonged to Old Mr. Norton. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to confidently move in, occupy the place, and remodel it like this.
She certainly couldn't afford to buy an estate like this herself.
After thinking for a long time, she still couldn't find anything she had missed.
Maybe it was something related to the main characters.
Calista shrugged.
Her chosen team was the Reapers. According to the storyline, they wouldn't meet the main group for another ten years. If she had the chance early on, she could help them a little, but even if she missed something, it wouldn't matter much.
Today was another beautiful day.
Just as a phone began buzzing, the slightly drunk Ancheta was imitating a preacher's tone and randomly issuing orders to everyone.
"Children, the Lord says you should all go eat sand in North Africa—"
Calista thought it was her phone ringing and casually picked it up, only to see her new phone lying silent with a black screen.
The entire table suddenly went quiet.
Everyone's eyes shifted toward the communication phone hanging at Leah's waist.
Leah quickly stood up, accidentally knocking over the salt shaker. Sea salt scattered onto Calista's freshly changed dress.
Calista didn't even react.
As she watched Leah answer the call, her expression gradually growing serious, Calista suddenly remembered what she had forgotten.
Oh no.
She had completely forgotten about a certain very important Pope.
"Congo mission!" Leah said after hanging up, slamming the phone onto the table. "We leave at five a.m. the day after tomorrow."
Screech—
Calista's silver fork scraped harshly across the porcelain plate.
She sat there frozen, her mind filled with a single thought.
What should she do?
The powerful allies she had worked so hard to secure were about to be summoned away before the apocalypse even began.