Gently rubbing, the sand grains scrape against the skin, emitting a subtle "swoosh," taking away the surface oil and dirt.
He continues to apply the sand on his chest, back, and legs, the grains rolling on his skin like countless tiny brushes.
Once cleansed, he stands up, vigorously shaking his body, causing the grains to cascade down like an old shell peeling away, leaving his skin still dry but with a hint of refreshnt.
He exits the bathroom and dresses again, then sits down at the desk.
Turning on a dim lamp, he takes out a tattered book and begins to flip through it.
The book was left by the previous owner of the room, docunting many scenes from the world before the Immortal Virus outbreak.
Flipping open the pages, his fingertips gently glide across the faded pictures, children running on green grass under blue skies and white clouds, laughter seeming to echo through the paper.
In the bustling city streets filled with flickering neon lights, crowds bustling, faces brimming with carefree smiles, and that blue ocean, glittering in the sun, almost scented with the salty sea breeze.
He stares at these images, his gaze gradually becoming dazed.
These scenes appear to him like phantoms from another world, distant as if in a dream.
He tries to imagine such a world but lacks the corresponding mories to weave the images.
Blue skies and white clouds?
The reality is, every ti he steps out of the fortress’s shelter, he sees only a gray sky, shrouded by a thick layer of dust, with sunlight barely breaking through.
Green grass?
The areas he’s explored have only cracked land and withered vegetation, barely a trace of life to be found.
The more beautiful the book’s descriptions, the more he feels an unspeakable sense of estrangent.
Those bustling streets, clear rivers, warm sunshine... in his eyes, like a fairy tale that never existed.
Countless tis, he has doubted if such a world really ever existed, or perhaps it’s rely a beautiful fantasy woven in humanity’s despair.
At least, he’s never seen it with his own eyes.
Just like the can in the old leader’s hand, probably devoid of actual food (substance).
He closes the book with a light sigh.
His fingers absentmindedly rub the spine of the book, the pages emitting a faint moldy scent mixed with the dust’s breath, akin to the world he’s in, heading towards decay.
He carefully places the book back in the corner, burying a dream that has been unreachable since his birth.
Exhausted in both body and mind, he lies on the bed and soon drifts into sleep.
The beautiful scenes described in the book manifest in his dreams, but once awake, only the moldy-slling, dimly lit room awaits.
With his arm resting on his forehead, staring at the ceiling, Blackie begins to daydream.
Just as he prepares to get up, the door is heavily knocked:
"Blackie, get up on alert, a large wave of Immortal Zombies is heading towards the fortress."
Hearing this, Blackie’s relaxed nerves instantly tighten, and he jumps up from the bed, quickly dressing and rushing to the exploration hall.
Dozens of fully ard warriors have already gathered here. Seeing his arrival, his childhood friend "Xiao Jin" nervously approaches, handing him a modified weapon:
"Blackie, prepare for battle. The Immortal Zombie horde is here."
Saying this, Blackie points towards the large screen above the hall.
The screen is divided into 16 sections, placed in the vicinity of the fortress, monitoring the external environnt.
Cold numbers and images flicker, finally freezing on a view of a desolate urban ruin.
On the screen, under a gray sky, swarms of Immortal Zombies slowly move towards the fortress.
Their bodies are twisted and shattered, skin rotting, exposing grim bones, advancing with a staggering gait.
As ti goes on, the number of Immortal Zombies appearing in the footage continues to increase, like a black tide slowly engulfing the screen’s view.
Realizing that the Wandering Corpse phenonon is occurring, Blackie can’t help but tighten his grip on the weapon in his hand.
Wandering Corpse is a phenonon in the Doomsday World where Immortal Zombies gather while aimlessly wandering. Due to the physical impairnts of the front Immortal Zombies, the action is rather slow, causing more Zombies to gather from behind.
Gradually forming a massive Immortal Army, marching forward imposingly.
This process is akin to a traffic jam on a highway, where vehicles moving slowly in front march side by side, causing the vehicles behind to beco increasingly congested.
Immortal Zombies evolve rapidly, possessing extrely keen senses of sll.
Among them, so "Special Species" have erged, capable of sensing the presence of fresh blood from a great distance.
In a horde of Immortal Zombies this large, such Special Species might exist.
The horde could launch a destructive assault on the fortress at any mont.
If that truly happens, the fortress’s blast doors might not withstand the destruction by these mighty monsters.
All combat personnel gather in the hall, eyes fixed intently on the large screen above, the atmosphere tense and oppressive, nearly suffocating.
"Release the disinfectant."
At this mont, an elderly figure with graying hair approaches beneath the large screen, looking at the staff at the control panel and speaking in a deep voice.
The staff did not hesitate, imdiately pressing the switch.
Instantly, two nozzles extend from outside the tal door, spraying a scarce amount of purple liquid to disperse any lingering scent near the door.
As ti ticks by, the Immortal Zombies on the divided screen slowly occupy all segnts of the footage.
The first wave of Immortal Zombies at this point approached the tal gate, their hobbling steps continuing into the distance.
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