Surviving World's End

the coming of rain

After stepping out of the bar, Mark headed directly toward his jeep.

Once inside the vehicle, he locked the doors and unfolded the piece of paper he had obtained beneath the cocktail glass.

Written on it was a set of coordinates.

Nothing else.

No names.

No instructions.

Exactly how professionals operated.

Mark took out the newly purchased burner phone from his pocket and entered the coordinates into the navigation system.

A route immediately appeared on the screen.

Without wasting time, he started the engine and drove toward the destination.

Outside Black City, hundreds of abandoned towns and ghost villages were scattered throughout the surrounding wastelands.

Over the years, smugglers, mercenary groups, fugitives, traffickers, and underground organizations had occupied many of these forgotten settlements.

Every territory belonged to someone.

And clashes between rival groups occurred almost daily.

The deeper one traveled into the outskirts surrounding Black City, the weaker the law became.

Eventually, lawlessness itself became the law.

After nearly two hours of driving, Mark finally arrived at one of the ghost towns marked by the coordinates.

The town looked dead.

Broken windows.

Collapsed buildings.

Empty roads.

Yet Mark knew better.

Places like this were rarely abandoned.

He stepped out of the jeep and quietly scanned his surroundings.

His sharp eyes carefully observed rooftops, alleyways, windows, and possible sniper positions.

After several moments, he finally spotted a familiar symbol hanging outside one of the buildings.

It was the same sign displayed outside the bar.

Mark walked toward the structure and knocked on the front door.

Several seconds later, a voice sounded from inside.

"What do you need?"

"I'm here for the Five-Star service," Mark replied calmly. "I assume you've already been informed."

Silence followed briefly.

Then the locks clicked open.

A middle-aged man cautiously opened the door and allowed Mark inside before immediately locking it again.

Without saying anything further, the man led him down a narrow hallway and into an empty room.

The room contained nothing.

No furniture.

No decorations.

Completely empty.

Mark remained calm.

The guide quietly observed his reaction and was slightly surprised by Mark's composure.

Most amateurs panicked at this stage.

But the man before him looked completely unfazed.

Professional.

That was the conclusion he reached almost immediately.

The guide walked toward one corner of the room and bent down.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Pause.

Knock. Knock.

The sounds followed a strange rhythm.

A second later, part of the floor suddenly slid open, revealing a hidden underground passage.

Without hesitation, Mark stepped inside.

The guide followed behind him.

Moments later, the entrance sealed shut above them.

The underground tunnel stretched endlessly through darkness illuminated only by dim emergency lights embedded into the walls.

After nearly five minutes of walking, they finally reached another chamber.

Inside sat a man dressed in an expensive gray suit.

Unlike the others, this man looked more like a businessman than a criminal.

The suited man smiled warmly.

"Distinguished guest," he said politely. "Please, have a seat."

Mark sat down silently.

While outwardly calm, he had already estimated the distance and direction they had traveled underground.

They were no longer beneath the same building.

Most likely, they were not even inside the same ghost town anymore.

But that did not surprise him.

Black City possessed countless underground tunnels, escape routes, and smuggling paths connecting nearby territories.

The suited man folded his hands together.

"So," he said casually, "you require Five-Star services."

"That level of work is expensive."

"Money isn't a problem," Mark replied calmly.

"I need a complete identity package."

"Not a fabricated shell."

"A real identity."

"Government records. Banking history. Travel history. Documentation."

The suited man's smile widened slightly.

"A careful customer."

Mark's eyes remained cold.

"I'm a generous person when business is conducted honestly."

He leaned slightly forward.

"But if you attempt to cheat me…"

His voice became quieter.

"…you can say goodbye to both your business and your peaceful life."

The atmosphere in the room instantly became heavier.

The suited man stared at Mark for several seconds before finally laughing softly.

"Relax."

"If the money is genuine, then the identity will be genuine."

He raised one hand.

"Five hundred thousand."

"No bargaining."

Mark did not hesitate.

He removed a black card from his pocket and placed it onto the table.

"There's two hundred and fifty thousand on this card."

"The rest will be transferred after verification."

The suited man considered the offer briefly before nodding.

"Deal."

The agreement concluded quickly.

Soon afterward, Mark was escorted back through the underground tunnel the same way he had entered.

After leaving the ghost town, Mark returned to Black City before nightfall.

The handover for the new identity would take place later that evening.

Until then, he needed a secure place to stay.

After some consideration, Mark booked a suite inside one of the most luxurious hotels in Black City.

Ironically, expensive hotels within criminal cities often possessed better security inside Black city

But instead of returning to his room immediately, Mark headed back into the city.

His shopping spree began shortly afterward.

Weapons.

Suppressors.

Combat knives.

Throwing knives.

Poisons.

Darts.

Grenades.

Handguns.

Rifles.

Surveillance devices.

Signal scramblers.

Tracking bugs.

Military-grade gadgets.

By the time he finished, he had spent several million.

Yet Mark showed no hesitation.

Because from the very beginning—

He had never intended to trust Shadow Mountain.

When he descended from the mountain earlier, he brought almost nothing with him besides cash and the clothes on his body.

Even those clothes had already been discarded at the abandoned house where he acquired the jeep.

Nothing connected to Shadow Mountain could be trusted.

Not during a competition like this.

That was precisely why Mark abandoned Plan A.

Originally, he intended to enter the Empire using the identity package provided by Shadow Mountain.

But after his conversation with the Deacon, he immediately discarded the idea.

Instead—

The "Marcus Vale" identity had already been sold off to another underground group shortly after he arrived in Black City.

Not only did this earn him additional untraceable cash, but it also created confusion.

Anyone tracking Marcus Vale would now follow the wrong target.

Foreign intelligence agencies.

Shadow Mountain.

Church operatives.

Imperial surveillance.llll

Their resources would all be wasted monitoring someone else.

Meanwhile, Mark himself would disappear completely.

He had performed similar laundering operations using the funds originally provided by Shadow Mountain.

By now, a large portion of his financial resources had become impossible to trace.

Black City specialized in exactly this kind of business.

After all—

Criminal organizations loved ready-made offshore accounts filled with clean money.

Plan B had collapsed after the higher-ups intentionally exposed the identity leak.

Which meant Mark had officially begun implementing Plan C.

As for Plan D…

Mark silently prayed he would never need to activate it.

Because if things ever reached that stage—

It would mean the mission had already spiraled completely out of control.

After finishing his purchases, Mark returned to the hotel carrying several heavy bags.

But even after entering his room, he still did not rest.

Instead, he immediately began organizing and inspecting every weapon, gadget, and tool he had acquired.

Time passed quietly.

Two full hours disappeared in preparation alone.

Only after everything was arranged properly did Mark leave the hotel once more carrying a sealed package.

He delivered it personally to a specialized courier company that proudly advertised one slogan:

"We deliver anything. Anywhere."

Afterward, Mark finally returned to his room.

He took a long shower before standing silently beside the window overlooking the chaotic streets of Black City.

Dark clouds slowly gathered across the sky.

Rain was coming.

Mark stared at the horizon for several seconds before quietly muttering:

"It's going to be a rainy night."

For some reason, a strong sense of unease lingered deep within his chest.

A bad premonition.

Something was going to happen tonight.

Something dangerous.

Mark finally lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.

If his instincts were correct…

Then he would need to be at his best to survive the ordeal tonight