RTS System in the Apocalypse-Chapter 74: Pursuit - III

Bulldog One roared forward, tires rolling under the heat-packed asphalt.

The road stretched with barely an obstruction. No wrecks nor barricades. Just footprints pressed deep into the pavement or the earth, each one much wider than the APC itself.

Dmitri rode atop the Light APC; one hand locked onto the metal frame as the vehicle adjust its path around the damage. Heat simmered off the ground, warping the distance one could see.

Adrian leaned in beside him, eyes tracing the prints.

"That Big Foot’s coming from the district," he whispered. "Pandora is cursed as the legends say."

"What do you know about folklore myth?" Dmitri asked, mildly unimpressed.

"Nothing much," Adrian grinned, then gave a quick wink. *"All I can say—we can only hope we find what we are looking for!"

Dmitri shifted his gaze back to the road.

Behind them, Johannes frowned—not at the joke, but how easily it came. He suppressed a laugh before it could surface.

Not every Scout seemed to carry the world like a weight. Some treated it with a carefree attitude.

His thoughts swirled, interrupted as a Scout shouted on his right.

"Look over there!"

Along the winding road, high walls stood tall on the horizon—a barrier that isolated this district from the rest.

The center cracked into two, cleaved by a monstrosity that easily charged through. Fragments of bricks and cement scattered on the sides, throwing dust on the once green fields that were filled with vitality.

The rebars stuck out like an open wound, letting the pristine aura of the district ooze out through these holes.

What remained of the metallic gate was its central frame, supported by a lone column that held what was left of it.

It was an unnerving display of Pandora District’s resilience against a siege, though for Dmitri, it presented an opportunity of entry.

"Echo Actual, large debris ahead," Bulldog One warned. "The APC can push with effort, but Escort One may not. I suggest we request assistance from the superhumans, over."

"Copy that, Bulldog One," Dmitri replied. "Hang on tight."

He turned to Johannes and Evelyn.

"The debris is blocking our vehicles," he shouted amidst the loud roar of the engine. "The convoy can’t advance until those fragments are pushed off."

"I know what to do," Johannes cut him off, patting Dmitri’s shoulder. "Watch my back."

He hopped off the APC like a grasshopper, boots thumping softly on the solid ground. With a shallow breath, Johannes legs burst with power, cracking the earth under his feet.

His body launched faster than the APC, the wind whistling violently as he moved. Within thirty meters, he stomped violently on the ground, ejecting dirt and mud to the sides.

In no time, he arrived at the broken section of the wall, costing him nothing but a breath of fresh air.

Dmitri’s eyes stayed put on Johannes, yet that speed left him hanging like a lagging PC.

That distance should be half a kilometer, he calculated. 30.5 seconds—what a terrifying performance.

The greatest of athletes could reach speeds of thirteen meters per second. To sustain it longer than fifteen seconds was asking of the impossible, and forcing to do so would lead to catastrophic fatigue.

Yet here he was, witnessing a human run at least fourteen meters per second on a duration that has never been seen before. The person wasn’t even sweating—it looked as if they were having the easiest warm up of their lives.

"Well, well, well," Adrian’s exasperating voice came over again. "Look who’s showing off? Tell you what, he’s saying it out loud—’Dmitri, you’re missing the best part of a superhuman. It’s—’"

"I can see his prowess clearly," Dmitri interrupted. "Move aside, I have something important to see."

"Tch!" Adrian clicked his tongue, just in time for the APC to stop. He turned around and followed everyone’s line of sight.

Johannes approached the first debris. It stood taller than him by an inch, wider than the APC by two.

His hand touched the surface, feeling the jagged texture running through his calloused palm. His arm jerked; the force strong enough to hold it in place, but weak enough to crush it in pieces.

With a slight throwing motion, it flew above his head no different than a basketball, rolling down on the flatlands behind his back.

Then, he picked up another, his movements no different from the last. In no time, the debris was cleared, opening the gateway to Pandora District.

At the same time, Johannes’s actions had struck an awe carefully hidden by the Army Soldiers watching from afar.

Ryan leaned over the rolled-down window, feeling the surge of strength flowing within him.

If I have as much strength as his...

He had longed for improvement of his combat abilities, but the system’s current restrictions have put a halt to his wish. But that wouldn’t be for long. Such thoughts lingered for a moment before it dissipated.

No need to compare myself. I am content to be seen by the Commander as I am.

He watched Johannes lightly hop himself back to the Light APC. His mouth stayed shut along the rest of the journey, true to his title in any way.

Despite this, everyone knew that the SAS agent was proud of himself. Who wouldn’t be proud to show-off their abilities? Only a fool would not be.

The jovial atmosphere loitered around the convoy, strengthened further as they passed through the district’s boundary.

The wind changed. Air freshened on the intake.

Tires sounded different on the newly paved asphalt road. The countless layers of materials were stacked upon intricately, maintaining comfort and convenience along the ride.

The engine noise felt muted between the high walls, guarding the spacious mansions who overtook large domains of land.

Private driveways bent from the main road, slithering smoothly like a snake that led to its den—grandiose houses that no apartment in the city core could ever compare.

One was a fan of modern brutalist concrete. Another reminiscing the aged civilizations with its old money European style. And some bold enough to experiment—smart eco villas that were now dead and dark.

Glasses lined up along the wall sections, reflecting the warm mirror of the sun without glare. Underneath the classy display lay an uncanny structure of complex materials, potent enough to stop projectiles that threatened its owner’s life.

The gardens bloomed with greenery and precision; lawns evenly trimmed to the most minute of details. Vines crept up the walls, boldly stopped where chemical repellents still linger.

Dmitri’s nose twitched upon the smell, wondering how people could pretend to live with such a powerful odor nearing them.

Unusual as it may be, the undying irrigation system marveled him more, running with power until it died. It was incomparable to the dry fountains laid decorative on the streets that left mineral stains like bones in the highways.

"A land of the rich," Dmitri muttered. "Paradise, indeed. The Commander will be satisfied."

Large footprints may have scarred the scenery; a tragedy may have changed the world. Despite the setbacks it has faced, Pandora remained untangled by the chaos—until...