The Cataclysm Sequence - Chapter 45

Chapter 45: Withering and Renewal
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Translation by: Weebsread👹
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The swarm above still gnawed hungrily at the corpse of the Charred Husk Colossus.
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Lin Tan dared not linger. She bound Ye Yuan’s wound as tightly as she could, then, dragging her injured leg, hobbled to the rust-frozen side door.
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She wedged the wrench into the narrow crack.
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With all her strength, she pressed down.
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The hinge groaned—a dry, metallic, resentful sound—until, at last, the rusted iron relented, opening half an inch. Twice more she forced it, the wrench biting into her palm until it burned. Only then did the door grudgingly yield, swinging inward just enough for her to squeeze through.
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Beyond lay an abandoned utility corridor.
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Narrow, damp, and so dark she could not see its end.
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Lin Tan glanced back at Ye Yuan.
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He slumped by the drainage pipe, his longsword at his side, so motionless he seemed barely alive.
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Her chest clenched so tightly she nearly collapsed beside him, hands trembling as she searched for his pulse at his neck.
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It was weak—frighteningly so.
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So faint it might vanish at any moment.
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The tension in Lin Tan’s shoulders finally loosened, but her eyes burned with a heat she could not hold back.
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“Don’t die.”
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Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
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“Ye Yuan, don’t you dare die here.”
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Ye Yuan did not stir.
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Lin Tan bowed her head, swallowing the flood of emotion threatening to spill over. She dragged his sword closer, then wrapped the dark red Scorched Blood Calamity Core in cloth and buried it deep in her backpack’s inner pocket.
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Even through layers of fabric, just touching it sent a chill crawling up her spine, as if a necrotic heart still pulsed within.
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She did not dare look at it again.
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That done, she bent down and lifted Ye Yuan onto her back.
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The moment his weight settled, her wounded leg nearly gave out. Pain stabbed from ankle to knee, and blackness swam before her eyes—she almost collapsed.
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She bit down hard, forcing herself not to cry out.
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She could not fall.
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Ye Yuan was already down. If she fell too, they would both be left for dead.
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Bracing herself against the wall, she staggered into the corridor, step by agonizing step. Blood from Ye Yuan’s arm dripped down her sleeve, each drop falling soft but heavy as a sledgehammer on her heart.
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Behind them, the Pump Room still shuddered.
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The horde’s frenzy over the Tier Four corpse grew more chaotic by the minute. Occasionally, bits of rubble tumbled from the collapsed edge, splashing into water. Lin Tan never looked back. She forced herself onward until the gnawing and tearing faded behind thick walls, until only a dull echo remained. Only then did she stop, ducking into a half-collapsed maintenance alcove.
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It was cramped.
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Inside, piles of old valves, cracked pipes, and a few moldy boards lay scattered. In one corner sat a dust-caked military broadcast receiver, its casing cracked, with a handful of loose batteries and a roll of stiff, yellowed tape beside it.
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Lin Tan set Ye Yuan down in the corner.
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She slid down the wall herself, chest heaving, cold sweat beading on her brow.
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Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
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She stared at Ye Yuan for several seconds, then reached over to check his pulse again.
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Still there.
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Only then did she let out a long, trembling breath, as if surfacing from deep water.
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“You owe me for this,” she muttered.
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But even as she said it, the words felt hollow—far too light to carry the terror of almost losing him.
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She wiped her face, crawled over to Ye Yuan, and tore another strip of cloth to press against the wound across his shoulder and back. Blood still seeped out, slower than before. She couldn’t tell if it was because her makeshift bandage was working, or if Ye Yuan simply didn’t have much blood left to lose.
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“Ye Yuan.”
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She called his name softly.
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No response.
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Lin Tan glared at him for a moment, a curse on her lips.
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But she swallowed it.
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Yelling at him now wouldn’t change anything.
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He couldn’t hear her anyway.
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And she was too spent to be truly angry.
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She turned to the battered broadcast receiver, snapping the cracked casing back together and slotting in the batteries, one by one. The contacts were badly rusted; she scraped at them with the back of her knife until she could force the springs down.
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BZZZZT—
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A burst of static shrieked from the speaker.
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Lin Tan froze, then quickly dialed the volume down.
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The static rose and fell, piercing and unpredictable.
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Her hand shook as she twisted the knob, but her movements were steady, deliberate.
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Minutes passed before, at last, a broken voice struggled through the noise.
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“…B-Zone…”
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“…Team Two search and rescue…”
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“…west suburban perimeter…”
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Lin Tan’s breath caught.
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She pressed the radio close to her ear, fingers locked around the battery cover.
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“…large number of infected creatures detected…possible high-tier infected activity…advance with caution…”
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The voice was swallowed by static again.
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But Lin Tan had heard enough.
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The rescue team was coming.
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Zhou Ye and the others had really made it back with the message.
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That sliver of sound, thin as a thread in the darkness, might snap at any moment—but it was enough for her to finally breathe.
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She flipped the radio over, searching for a transmit switch.
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None.
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It was only a receiver.
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Unwilling to give up, Lin Tan pried off the back cover to check the wiring. There was an antenna port, an audio jack, and a few short wires still intact, but the transmission module was missing—stripped out years ago.
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She stared at the empty slot, throat tight.
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She could hear help was on its way.
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But she couldn’t tell them—they were still alive.
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Behind her, Ye Yuan suddenly coughed.
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Lin Tan spun around.
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Ye Yuan turned his head and spat blood, eyes barely open, but his breathing was less ragged than before.
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“Ye Yuan?”
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She hurried to his side.
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His eyelids fluttered, his voice so faint it was almost lost to the static.
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“Horde…”
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“They’re still above,” Lin Tan whispered, “all busy tearing into that thing’s corpse. None have come down yet.”
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Ye Yuan paused, breathing shallow.
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“Your leg…?”
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Lin Tan blinked, her nose suddenly stinging.
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She lowered her gaze, voice going stiff. “Doesn’t hurt.”
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Ye Yuan tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it.
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“The radio…”
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“I picked up a rescue signal.” Lin Tan held it to his ear. “Team Two from B-Zone—they’re already at the western outskirts. But this thing only receives. I can’t send anything out.”
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Ye Yuan listened to the broken voices in the static, his eyes regaining a little focus.
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“Can you modify it?”
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Lin Tan glanced at the battered shell, then at the tangle of dead wires on the corridor wall.
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She hesitated a moment.
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“I can try.”
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Ye Yuan closed his eyes.
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“Don’t go too far.”
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“Yeah, I know.”
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Lin Tan looked down at him, holding back for a long moment before she couldn’t help herself.
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“Next time you’re about to die, could you at least give me a warning?”
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Ye Yuan’s lashes fluttered.
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“I’ll do my best next time.”
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Lin Tan nearly laughed—furious, relieved.
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But the laughter barely surfaced before her eyes went red.
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She ducked her head and pressed down on his wound again.
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Ye Yuan’s consciousness began to fade.
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But this time, it felt different.
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Earlier, darkness had simply crashed over him—pain, blood loss, exhaustion, all tangled together, dragging him under. Now, there was a thread of clarity in the blackness.
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Like the thinnest flash of cold steel along a blade’s edge.
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He could hear water dripping somewhere in the corridor.
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He could hear Lin Tan’s ragged, choked breaths—steadying herself by sheer force of will.
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He could hear the rescue team’s voice, rising from the static every so often.
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In his mind, cold text floated up.
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【Resonance Effect: Sword Heart, Clarity Unveiled.】
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【Sword skill energy cost greatly reduced.】
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【Sword technique comprehension rate increased.】
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【Sword attack stability and lethality enhanced.】
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The words faded swiftly.
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Then, new System Messages appeared.
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【Detected potential ability resonance: Stress Aggregation + Calamity Bone Remolding.】
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【Generating Resonance Effect…】
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Ye Yuan’s breathing hitched.
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Lin Tan, thinking his wounds had worsened, pressed harder on his wound.
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“Ye Yuan?”
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He didn’t answer.
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He felt himself sinking into deeper darkness.
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In that darkness, he could sense his body, opened up inch by inch:
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Blood loss.
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Lacerations.
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Fractured bones.
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Internal trauma.
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Every injury was excruciatingly clear, as if a cold hand pressed each one to the edge of his awareness.
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Then, something turned within the withered places inside him.
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First his chest.
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Then his spine.
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Then, all the bones and sinews of his body.
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The heat that followed was not only the bone-deep resilience of Calamity Bone Remolding, nor the numb endurance of Stress Aggregation. It was like a slow-turning wheel, grinding through dying flesh, wringing out the last drops of vitality.
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Where there was withering, a thread of life persisted.
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Where there was renewal, a breath returned.
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The flesh around his wounds began to contract, ever so slightly.
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The black-red taint left by the Infected Creature’s bone spike stopped spreading, as if it had struck some barrier and slowly stalled at the wound’s edge.
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Lin Tan noticed first.
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Her hand was still pressing Ye Yuan’s shoulder and back.
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The blood she hadn’t been able to staunch finally slowed.
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She stared at her hand, breath caught in her throat.
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Ye Yuan’s body temperature was changing, too.
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The cold of blood loss was replaced by an unnatural heat—not on the surface, but deep inside, a stubborn ember fiercely guarding what little life remained.
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At last, the System Message stabilized.
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【Resonance Effect: Cycle of Withering and Renewal.】
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【While in near-death state, vitality is locked.】
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【Self-healing greatly enhanced.】
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【Resistance to infection and contamination increased.】
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【Warning: This state rapidly consumes host stamina and energy reserves.】
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Ye Yuan heard these words through the haze.
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He tried to open his eyes.
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His eyelids were too heavy.
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His body dragged him into deeper hibernation.
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But this was not death.
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It was recovery.
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Violent, ravenous, agonizing—but it was pulling him back from the brink.
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Lin Tan had no idea what was happening in his mind.
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All she knew was that his breathing was no longer growing weaker.
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She looked down at him, eyes burning, and finally muttered, barely audible:
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“Idiot.”
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She retightened the bandages, then shrugged off her jacket and used it to brace his shoulder and back. Only then did she drag herself—with her injured leg—back to the battered radio.
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The broadcast still crackled.
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“…Team Two search and rescue…large horde detected…”
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“…heavy heat signature interference…”
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“…possible survivor vehicle retreating from the area…”
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Lin Tan memorized every word.
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She pried open the receiver’s backplate, using the faint glow of her emergency flashlight to study the wires. No transmitter, but there was an antenna port, an old audio jack, and a few short wires still usable.
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She glanced at the dead wiring along the corridor wall.
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If she could connect the receiver to the old lines, maybe she could amplify the static.
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Even if she couldn’t transmit a clear message—
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Even if all she could do was send a spike of abnormal current for the rescue team to pick up—
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It was better than nothing.
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Lin Tan wiped the sweat from her brow and pushed herself up.
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She had just pried off the first cable cover when, from deeper in the corridor, came a faint scraping sound.
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Shaaa—
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Like fingernails dragging across rusted iron.
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She froze.
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The radio’s static hissed on.
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Far off, the horde still tore at the Charred Husk Colossus.
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Ye Yuan leaned against the wall, unconscious, sword at his side.
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Lin Tan slowly turned.
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Somehow, deeper in the abandoned corridor, a long, thin shadow had appeared.
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It crept along the base of the wall, inching closer.
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Shaaa—
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Again.
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Lin Tan’s fingers closed around a broken length of pipe.
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She did not call out to Ye Yuan.
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Did not retreat.
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She just set the radio gently on the ground, stepped in front of Ye Yuan, and tightened her grip.
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In the darkness, a pale hand reached out from beneath the tangled pipes.