Gene Monster

Mira Wells woke with a start. Eyes darting over the humans around her, she gaped to unleash a jet of flame—only for a muzzle of some unidentifiable black material to clamp down over her jaws.

Her mouth sealed shut, she couldn't muster a spark, though wisps of black smoke curled out from the edges of her lips.

She thrashed wildly, but her wings were already broken, tranquilizers dulled her limbs, and she was bound so tightly she couldn't budge—utterly helpless, like a fish on a cutting board, awaiting the knife.

Once they confirmed she was secure, the helicopter lifted off, Mira dangling in the air beneath it, bound for the Research Institute.

There, an endless stretch of experiments awaited her.

She was the first genetically modified human with avian wings they had captured who had only sustained light injuries.

The rabid researchers in the labs wouldn't give her any quarter.

That mission had gone off without a hitch, largely thanks to Tu Ran's help. Deng Changtai treated her with much more cordiality now, even arranging a hotel room in a prime location for her.

It was on the eastern side of Pandalim District, a property owned by the Xie family.

Tu Ran went to her hotel room.

Her helmet had been damaged, and since her combat suit and helmet were a single integrated unit, lake water had leaked inside, drenching her.

She had Zero notify the logistics office in the Administrative Building's equipment room to send over a full set of gear. Meanwhile, she returned to the hotel bathroom, rinsed herself off, slipped into a bathrobe, and waited in the room for the equipment to arrive.

The hotel room was spacious, the bed large and soft—even more so than the one at home. Tu Ran lay on her back, comfortably scrolling through the news.

Nearly every headline was about genetically modified humans.

Lately, stories about them had been dominating all the media outlets.

Across the Federation, incidents had occurred where genetically modified humans brutally murdered their own families before massacring local residents. The scenes were so gruesome that even news outlets—which usually had no clue what a blur effect was—had slapped mosaics all over the footage.

These incidents had already stirred a degree of social panic. Ordinary citizens grew even more hateful toward the extremist protest organizations, and their animosity toward genetically modified humans intensified day by day.

After scrolling past a dozen or so news stories about genetically modified humans killing people, Tu Ran noticed that in the majority of them, the phrase “genetically modified humans” had been replaced with “gene monsters.”

The term “genetically modified humans” had almost entirely vanished.

Some articles even went out of their way to explain the difference between the two, with such pieces ranking at the top of the charts.

On the surface, the distinction seemed significant. Most of the genetically modified humans who appeared these days were better described as monsters than people.

They had completely lost their human characteristics, so the label “gene monster” fit all too well.

But digging deeper, the sudden push by the Federal Government to differentiate the two terms made Tu Ran suspicious of their motives.

Humans and monsters.

Both were the product of genetic alteration—one was a human with enhanced physical ability, the other a monster where bestial instincts had overpowered humanity.

What extremists created were monsters that endangered society, not humans.

Those who savagely slaughtered people were gene monsters, not genetically modified humans.

What the Federation was aggressively hunting down were monsters, not humans.

Through a steady stream of such news, public perception was being subtly reshaped. They came to reject only gene monsters, not the technology of genetic modification itself.

The Federation’s approach was like laying groundwork—a preparation for the eventual unveiling of true genetically modified humans.

Tu Ran had known ever since she first saw a news story about gene monsters that the Federation would never let go of a technology capable of superhumanly boosting human strength.

The extremist protest organizations had created this technology, but they had ended up handing it to the Federal Government on a silver platter.

Those organizations couldn’t control the technology, but the talent-rich Federation could. The elites of the Research Institute could. By studying and refining this “miracle drug,” Tu Ran believed it wouldn’t be long before the Federation created true “genetically modified humans.”

“Ding—your delivery has arrived. Please confirm receipt.”

A voice cut through her thoughts. She set down her communicator, got out of bed, and looked toward the source.

By the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, a small delivery drone carrying a large package landed steadily on the platform built outside—a rack specifically designed for aerial courier drops, now standard in most Federation cities.

Tu Ran got out of bed, slid the window open, and lifted the package off the drone’s body.

“Ding—delivery confirmed. Breezy is returning now. Please close the window to prevent dust from entering.”

Tu Ran shut the window, her eyes still on the drone.

This was her first time receiving a package via courier in this world, and she was genuinely curious.

Detecting that the window was closed, the drone’s blue lights on both sides blinked twice—like two tiny eyes scanning around—then its power system kicked in, and three blue flames shot from its underside, lifting it into the air.

In an instant, it vanished from sight.

And where it had been, dust swirled into the air.

No wonder it reminded you to close the window.

Tu Ran looked away, crouched down, and started opening the package.

Inside was a brand-new combat suit.

Each Federation department had its own combat suits designed specifically for its operational needs—unique and non-interchangeable. So she had to pick up a new set from the Pioneer Team’s equipment room in the Administrative Building.

Of course, the suit wasn’t free. A third of her monthly salary would be docked for it.

Once she was fully dressed, Tu Ran left the hotel.

The three of them had arrived this morning and would be on continuous duty until seven the next morning. During that time, they couldn’t stray too far from Pandalim District, ensuring they could rush over the moment anything happened.

She had only come back to the hotel to swap her gear. Min Tao and the others had already headed to the next mission site, so she needed to catch up with them quickly.

This time, their destination was an elementary school in Pandalim District.

A school in the wealthy district—naturally, all the children there came from rich families.

It was a bona fide aristocratic elementary school.

The one who had taken the miracle drug was a teacher.

Why they had taken it remained unknown.

An hour ago, they had begun showing abnormalities—dilated pupils, bloodshot eyes, extreme irritability, even picking up a small stool and hurling it at a student.

The student had dodged quickly, so they weren’t hit.

Afterward, the teacher regained clarity and hugged the student in remorse. But school security had already restrained them, preparing to escort them to the Security Department—the department run by the dead-fish-eyed officer.

During that process, the teacher exhibited the same symptoms again.

According to the two security guards, the man’s neck veins had bulged, a terrifying red, and nearly his entire sclera was covered in fine capillaries—utterly horrifying.