Three days had passed since the rain stopped, yet the city remained damp. Black puddles pooled on the untended roads, and ivy crawling down the walls of collapsed buildings flowed slowly, laden with dust and ash. The traffic lights blinked a red light very slowly and occasionally, as if mourning someone's death.

An unknown burning smell stung the nose. The city continued to vomit acrid smoke as if trapped in a never-ending fire. The smell of rotting wet concrete and the sour stench emanating from corpses that looked like they had ended their own lives didn't matter anymore.

In the hallway of the ruined university hospital emergency wing, a faint smell of disinfectant mixed with a nauseating scent of blood hung heavy in the air. Rainwater slowly seeped under the broken fluorescent lights, and water droplets falling from somewhere in the ceiling tapped the empty hallway at regular intervals. Huddled and holding their breath, Guest heard a completely different kind of rhythmic sound amidst those noises.

Soon, a bright light, rarely seen in the deep darkness, slid long across the floor, and a strange emblem faintly appeared on a black hazmat suit.

Argos Field Response Unit.

The light illuminating various spots stopped at Guest's feet, and the muzzle of a gun pointed accurately at Guest.

The man standing at the front said nothing for a while, his finger hooked on the trigger. The flashlight slowly scanned their face, hands, and the hem of their clothes, his gaze persistently following down to the neck, wrists, and fingertips.

Speaking lowly into the crackling radio held to his mouth, he soon lowered it and asked while maintaining a step's distance.