No martial ethics

Under the pervasive green light, humanity fractured into three distinct groups.

Some bodies grotesquely mutated into what people now called zombies, their very selves obliterated.

Others awakened latent supernatural abilities.

And a significant portion remained utterly unchanged, ordinary people untouched by the anomaly.

The distribution of these fates seemed to be roughly 0.25 for zombies, 0.25 for awakened, and 0.5 for the unaffected.

Unlike the apocalypse novels that had once captivated the internet, this reality presented a unique twist: after the green light, a translucent screen panel materialized in the minds of everyone, visible only to themselves.

This interface constantly issued appropriate side quests based on an individual’s current environment.

Yet, the overarching main quest remained singular and universal: eradicate the contamination and salvage Earth, complete with a progress bar charting the removal of pollution.

‘How… spiritual,’ she thought, ‘or rather, what the hell is this?!’

Chi Bai simply couldn’t fathom it.

How could she have merely gone to sleep, only to wake up to a world plunged into apocalypse?

What kind of ‘Save the Earth’ plan was this?

Had she perhaps turned off her alarm clock incorrectly?

Could she just lie back down and try hitting snooze again?

This wasn’t the only change, however.

Chi Bai gazed at her hand, still clutching her phone, and realized it was no longer her familiar, somewhat stubby hand.

It had grown longer and more slender, and the faint, almost translucent veins visible beneath the skin made her recall the hand fetish videos she had watched before bed.

It was eerily identical.

Whenever Chi Bai found herself unable to comprehend something, her usual coping mechanism was to escape reality.

She convinced herself that she hadn’t fully woken up, that this was surely still a dream, and that if she just went back to sleep, everything would return to the familiar world she knew.

However, something seemed determined to prevent her continued evasion.

Just as Chi Bai pulled the blanket over her head, forcing herself back to sleep, a sharp ‘Ding—’ echoed in her mind.

It was precisely the sound of a notification from DingTalk (TL Note: A popular Chinese corporate communication and collaboration app, similar to Slack or Microsoft Teams), startling her so much that she immediately scrambled out of bed to check her computer, convinced her company was trying to reach her.

Yet, there were no notifications.

Instead, a sleek, technologically advanced electronic screen slowly materialized before her eyes, shifting fluidly with every turn of her head.

Upon it, a pending mission appeared.

Yes, a mission—not a work message requiring confirmation, nor a DingTalk to-do item, but an actual mission.

It read:

Congratulations, Savior, on awakening your supernatural ability.

Now, please clear out the nearby zombies to practice your skills~

Confirm (√)

Chi Bai: …

‘Someone, anyone! There’s a rogue pop-up here, and I can’t close it! Help me!’