Cataclysm: Undead Dragons and Zero Empire

Following the global earthquakes, the world is heading in a new direction.

When a house collapses, people can quickly build a brand new high-rise building. When a civilization collapses, people sigh in front of the ruins, lamenting that it would take half a lifetime just to clear the rubble.

The old order has faded and lost its luster, with only a few people still yearning for the past, while the majority are forced to throw themselves into the growing pains of the new order.

Earthquakes bring devastation, and massive power outages temporarily plunge humanity back to the pre-industrial era, but restoring localized power supply is not a difficult task.

However, for human civilization immersed in the information age, the truly fatal trauma is the collapse of the Internet caused by a massive power outage, in which massive amounts of data are sunk deep into the ruined servers, with no possibility of being reproduced.

Howard couldn't say for sure what the ultimate consequences of the disappearance of the Internet would be, but the people in front of him were clearly looking forward to it, as if everything was going according to plan.

He sat in a makeshift shack made of corrugated iron. Despite the cramped conditions, the people had even set up a bar inside, where the selection of drinks was still quite comprehensive and of good quality.

"A glass of old-fashioned tequila, with a lemon slice and fine salt. Enjoy."

The bartender in front of Howard wore white gloves, pushed a glass of shimmering golden liquor toward him, and then slowly and meticulously wiped the bartending tools with a cloth, providing service as attentive as if he were in a bar from the pre-disaster era.

"It was quite an honor to have a leader of the Death Party personally mix my drinks."

Howard picked up a lemon slice and sucked on it, then licked a pinch of salt before downing the entire glass of wine in one gulp.

"It's so hot, like a fire rolling into my stomach," he exhaled, his breath reeking of alcohol. After so long recuperating at the private clinic, he had almost forgotten what that tasted like. Dr. Agnes had always been against him, her patient, being exposed to tobacco and alcohol.

"I hope you enjoy my skills, but unfortunately, due to limited resources, I can't perform a flair bartending demonstration for you right now."

Terrence, who had already removed his hood, was the one who led Howard to this remote camp. The red piping on his gray-black robe and the almandine brooch he wore undoubtedly proved his status in the Death Faction.

"Is there any point in having this TV here?" Howard asked, pointing to the screen behind the bar. Beside him lay his sidearm, adorned with a skull and angel design, its caliber so large it was practically a hand cannon.

Terence shrugged, turned around and turned on the TV. The screen lit up, but there was no video, only monotonous audio.

"This is an emergency broadcast, which will be repeated on different frequencies..."

"Human civilization has encountered the largest earthquake disaster in history. According to the monitoring information returned by the space station, the known affected area includes the entire Earth's surface."

"At this critical moment, all participating countries that have restored communications have agreed to sign the provisional joint statement, pledging to cease all acts of war, safeguard peace and stability on the earth, and utilize all the organizational capacity of human civilization to carry out disaster relief and recovery, and restore production..."

The broadcast was quite short and repeated many times in different languages, like an echo left over from the Internet age.

"It's like going back to World War I, isn't it? Back then, people would gather around the radio in pubs, listen to the broadcasts, and raise their glasses in celebration when they heard the news of victory."

Terence remained noncommittal about the broadcast, continuing to wipe the glasses as if he could polish this set of glasses for the rest of his life.

"Are they using satellite signals?" Howard felt that these death-fighting people were shrouded in mystery once again.

"We have our own network, Mr. Jones, please rest assured, we will inform you immediately if there is any new information."

Terence seemed very patient. "Would you like another glass? We have enough base spirits here. I can give you a wine list."

"Thank you, but no need. Let's get back to the main topic." Howard turned his gaze away from the television screen and stared at the person in front of him. The eyes that met his gaze were still radiating a dark red light, like two lights that would never go out.

"What does this earthquake really mean? You knew it was going to happen, right?"

"As we have observed, you are very perceptive. Indeed, we knew an earthquake was going to happen and we prepared in advance."

Terence frankly acknowledged Howard's question, put down his gleaming glass, and waved his hand.

Soon only the two of them remained in the tin shack. The Death Party members who had accompanied them had all retreated outside, and they had never taken off their hoods, so Howard had never seen their faces clearly.

"Even though I was unfortunately rejected when we first met, I still believe we can be together. To show my sincerity, let me reveal a corner of the real world to you."

Terence's eyes shone even brighter, as if mentioning these secrets invigorated him, and he spoke in a chanting tone:

"Our Lord is about to awaken from his eternal slumber. The calamity of the earthquake is the inevitable harbinger of his coming, while the sprouting of the sacred tree is the grace our Lord bestows upon humanity."

"Before the might of our Lord, how weak is a civilization confined to the surface of a planet? When our Lord truly awakens, the end of the world will surely come upon humanity."

"Without a doubt, this is a severe test, and many people will inevitably perish, far more than those who died in this earthquake. But it is also a new beginning for human civilization."

"Humanity needs guidance to lead them through the end times and into a new life. By the grace of our Lord, you and I are both born to be qualified."

"You and I are the same kind of people. You also have Dragon Dream Syndrome, accompanied by intense hallucinations. Perhaps you have always regarded it as an incurable disease and were unable to wake up from it. This is proof that our Lord has blessed us."

Terrence spread his arms like a conductor in a concert hall, but Howard, the only audience member present, remained unmoved by his fervent enthusiasm.

"I know your rhetoric: the dragon of death, supreme divinity, the end of the world. The question is, how long have you been spying on me? Is Agnes one of your people?"

"No, no, no, Dr. Agnes is very competent; she has not contacted us."

Terence retorted hastily, seemingly concerned for Dr. Agnes's reputation.

"We bought that clinic before you were admitted to the hospital, thinking it would provide you with good recuperation services. I must say, it was well worth the money."

"There's another thing. Not only do you have friends in the military, but we also have our own friends. They all spoke up for you, which is why you were acquitted on the day you went to the military court."

Howard became increasingly aware of the power of these charlatans; his life trajectory was probably predetermined once he came into their sights, as clear as a script written by a screenwriter.

"Also, perhaps you lack understanding of our group. After all, there aren't many people in the world who are truly willing to understand us. Please allow me to make a correction."

"The title 'Dragon of Death' is an absolutely foolish and presumptuous term. How absurd that those heretics believe that our Lord is the embodiment and spokesperson of death! Our Lord can only be referred to as 'Dragon' and honored as 'Lord.' He is our common Father, and death is merely the authority held by our Lord."

As Terence spoke, his voice suddenly rose, and he loudly denounced the heretics in his eyes, his anger practically palpable.

Without a doubt, in the struggle of faiths, heresy is far more hateful than paganism.

Howard realized more deeply that beneath Terence's gentle and composed demeanor lay the hysterical, fanatical belief in the death religion.