As confusion rose in Ivy’s mind, another possibility started to fernt. What if... what if Damien was the one who was reborn?
But even if that was the case... why didn’t he just tell everyone about Ivy’s superpower?
In her last life, hardly any of her close ones didn’t know about her superpower.
"No... nothing is making sense. Is there any link that I have overlooked?" Ivy murmured while massaging her temples.
Martha was worried after seeing Ivy’s distressed condition and called out in a soft voice, "Miss Ivy, are you alright?"
"Hm? Yes. Anyhow, Martha, what thod are we currently using to verify the background?" Ivy asked since she knew that delving into one topic wouldn’t make her magically know the answer.
Martha paused for a brief mont before explaining in a soft voice,
"Due to the apocalypse, our verification thod is rather minimal. We check identification cards, if they still exist, and match them with the national database. If the IDs have expired or the database doesn’t respond, we rely on the standard five-step questioning protocol. Na, age, address, occupation, and last known contact person."
Ivy motioned Martha to continue, and Martha explained,
"We also have a few locals in our teams who were previously well-connected and know most of the gossip. As long as the locals tell about the dirty deeds of a person trying to get in, we judge their cri before deciding if they are eligible to stay in the base or not."
There was a slight pause before Martha continued.
"We also have a person who used to work in the governnt facilities and has lower-level access to the cri records, and we ask him to cross-verify."
The more Martha talked, the more stunned Ivy beca.
The verification thod was so flawed that she was stunned that her base didn’t have serial killers.
Trusting locals? What if the locals themselves were corrupt or biased? What if they were secretly taking bribes?
A person with lower-level access to cri records? Then what about those criminals whose files were confidential or sealed? How many slipped in simply because their information wasn’t visible on the shallow surface?
Ivy felt her pulse throb against her temples. ’This... this isn’t verification. This is luck. Pure, blind luck.’
Her base wasn’t secure... it was surviving by coincidence.
The worst possibility? So of the killers might have already slipped in and were waiting for a good chance to strike.
She drew a long, steady breath, but her eyes remained cold as she questioned, "So that’s all? No psychological evaluation? No cross-verifying?"
Martha looked down, her expression apologetic.
"We don’t have the manpower or the resources for advanced thods, Miss Ivy. Most bases don’t even verify at all. They just accept people if they bring supplies or skills. We were considered safer simply because we checked at all."
She hesitated before adding, "Compared to the others... our base is one of the strictest."
Ivy pressed her lips together tightly.
"You are not understanding, Martha..."
Ivy thought about her past life and sighed internally.
Many of the psycho killers got to know about a strange thod. A thod to transform into a zombie while keeping their consciousness.
In the beginning, people thought these killers were ordinary zombies... mindless, bloodthirsty creatures following their instincts. But later, when the truth surfaced, the world collectively realized sothing far more terrifying.
These conscious zombies were smarter... faster... crueler.
They could mimic human behavior. They could hide among survivors. They could infiltrate bases silently. They could wait... patiently... for the perfect mont to strike.
In her last life, countless bases that believed themselves safe had been massacred overnight.
So were slaughtered from within by those very "accepted" survivors, people who had breezed through flawed background checks just like the ones Ivy had now.
Ivy’s hands tightened unconsciously, nails digging into her palm.
’If even one such person slipped in here... my entire base could collapse overnight... and I might die again as stupidly as before.’
"In the future, the base won’t just be fighting zombies or natural disasters. It will be fighting corrupt humans, desperate humans, and those who willingly turn themselves into monsters."
Martha’s eyes widened in alarm. "Turn themselves...? Miss Ivy, what do you an by that?"
Ivy leaned back, her gaze distant yet sharp.
"There are experints... whatever you want to call them... things that allow humans to beco zombies without losing their consciousness. It gives them power, abilities, the instincts of a predator... all while keeping their reasoning intact."
Martha’s face paled, her voice trembling slightly. "You an... they beco... living zombies?"
"No," Ivy corrected quietly. "They beco thinking zombies."
Martha stepped back, feeling her heartbeat spike. "But... Miss Ivy, how can normal people even get such thods?"
"They can’t," Ivy replied. "Only the worst of humanity searches for such power. Murderers, psychopaths, desperate groups... And when society collapses, these people crawl out of the shadows."
Martha swallowed hard, her hands trembling. "Miss Ivy... Are you saying there could be one in our base?"
"Honestly, with our background verification? Yes." Ivy replied with a brutally honest opinion.
"So what should we do?" Martha asked hopefully, expecting Ivy to co up with a good thod; however, Ivy fell silent.
What can she suggest?
In her last life, none of the bases were able to co up with an ideal solution.
So bases hired lie-detector superhumans, people whose abilities allowed them to sense fluctuations in emotions or detect lies in conversation.
But even those weren’t foolproof. Many murderers were so ntally deranged that they felt no guilt or fear while lying, allowing them to pass undetected.
Others established a system where only people with recomndations or connections could enter.
But that simply created corruption. Officials sold recomndation letters on the black market for gold, food, and even won.
A few bases tried dical screening, hoping blood tests would detect mutation signs early. But conscious zombies learned to suppress their early symptoms.
They injected themselves with stabilizing agents, pretending to be perfectly normal until the day they slaughtered everyone inside.
And so bases... simply gave up, allowing people to enter freely and praying luck would protect them longer than logic ever could.
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