Dawn broke over Tanjung Perak Port, but its pale light brought no warmth. The morning sun only managed to change the sky from pitch black to dull gray, highlighting the brutal spectacle about to take place in the heart of Alexander’s kingdom.Andy was forcibly shoved out of the narrow, cold cell where he had spent the night. Two burly guards dragged him through a maze of containers toward an open area surrounded by stacked shipping crates, forming the walls of an improvised arena. On top of the container stacks, dozens of Alexander’s followers had gathered, cheering and betting, as if this were a morning sporting event.The smell in the arena was pungent—a mixture of dried blood, fear, and the distinct stench of the undead.“Welcome to the Purgatory, Little Rat!” one of the guards sneered, shoving Andy until he stumbled and fell onto the reddish-brown stained arena sand.Andy lifted his head. Across the arena, four other men were pushed in. They were captured scavengers, defectors, or

They arrived at the sewer location Tri had indicated. It was a one-meter-diameter concrete tunnel whose mouth was covered by rusted iron bars. The stench of stagnant seawater and fish waste was pungent, strong enough to turn the stomach. “This is our entry point,” Tri whispered, pulling a small crowbar from her bag. “These bars are old. It shouldn’t be too difficult.” While Tri worked on dismantling the bars, Satria felt a strange unease. Dawn was still hours away, but a bad feeling told him they might not have enough time. He needed to confirm exactly where the execution would take place and where Abigail was located. Rushing in blindly would only get them all killed. “I need a better vantage point,” Satria said. He stared at an old grain silo towering outside the perimeter fence, about a hundred meters from their position. It was the tallest structure in the area besides Alexan

The door to the small office behind the textile warehouse was locked from the inside. The click of the rusty iron latch sounded loud in their ears, as if separating two opposing worlds: the outside world filled with death, and the world inside this cramped room that would soon be filled with life.The room was stuffy, smelling of old paper and dust that had settled for years. Pale moonlight streamed through the ventilation slits high on the wall, creating silver streaks of light that cut through the darkness. On the floor, atop a pile of scrap fabrics arranged like an emergency mattress, Satria sat cross-legged. His breathing was heavy and deep, trying to calm his racing heart—not from fear, but from the anticipation of the surge of energy he desperately needed.In front of him, Cindy and Tri stood.An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. This was no longer an emergency situation where they were rushing, like they had been at the furniture store.

Hell was no longer just a metaphor at Tanjung Perak Port; hell had manifested in the form of fire, blood, and iron. Satria ran through the narrow alleys between the stacks of containers, leaving a trail of destruction behind him. Behind him, five Hunters chased at a terrifying speed, their iron claws clashing with the asphalt, creating sparks that matched the blazing sky in the south. However, the monsters could not catch the God of War in Overcharge mode. Satria wasn’t just running; he leaped, climbed vertical container walls with a single thrust, and slid past obstacles like a golden ghost. Every fiber of his muscle was filled with the energy he had gained from Cindy and Tri, giving him limitless stamina and strength that made concrete feel as brittle as crackers. “The plaza… the plaza…” the mantra repeated in his head. He knew Alexander was cunning. The fire at the

The atmosphere inside the Informa furniture store was silent, but not the peaceful kind. It was a tense silence, as thick as the air before a storm erupts. The scorching midday sun streamed in through the gaps in the rolling door, creating lines of dancing dust motes in the air, illuminating tired faces etched with conflict. On one of the luxurious leather sofas, now stained with dust and a little blood, Luis sat leaning back. His broken leg had been neatly splinted by Cindy using pieces of wood and bandages, but the middle-aged man's face still bore the marks of pain. Around him, Indri sat on the floor massaging her stiff shoulders, while Rizal and Bima sat in the distance, observing the group's new dynamic awkwardly. Satria stood by the closed window, having just finished cleaning his weapon. He looked at Luis. Their gazes met—one pair belonging to a young man who had discarded his humanity for power, the other to an elder clinging t