Apocalypse: I Raised the Ultimate Antagonist from Scratch

The pale, artificial dawn of the Research Center filtered softly through the narrow, high-recessed ventilation grates of the residential suite. Han Zheng’s dark eyes opened slowly in the dim light.

For a brief second, his senses were slightly disoriented from sleeping in an upright position, his stiff back protesting against the hard back of the desk chair.

Then he felt it—the heavy warmth draped over his broad shoulders and chest.

Han Zheng looked down, his eyes lingering on the thick blanket wrapped carefully around him, its edges neatly tucked to block the room’s circulating chill. He turned his head toward the narrow bed.

Lin Qing was sleeping peacefully on her side, her dark hair scattered across the pillow. Without her blanket, her slender frame was exposed to the cool morning air.

A quiet, deep emotion surged in Han Zheng’s chest. Even with her memories gone, her first instinct in the middle of the night had been to care for him, giving up her only source of warmth so he could sleep undisturbed.

Moving with the silent, fluid grace of a practiced fighter, Han Zheng unwrapped the heavy blanket from his shoulders. He stood up without making a sound, stepped over to the bed, and carefully draped the fabric back over Lin Qing’s body. He tucked the edges gently around her shoulders, ensuring she was completely warm, before turning and quietly slipping out of the room.

The primary suite’s central lounge was hushed and dimly lit. Out near the open kitchen counter, Han Ye sat on a high stool beside Gu An and little Su Xiao.

Despite his small size, Han Ye’s posture was remarkably composed. The moment his father’s door had clicked open earlier, the little boy had subtly taken control of the room, keeping Gu An and Su Xiao whispering in muted tones so as not to make a single loud noise near Lin Qing’s doorway.

As Han Zheng stepped into the lounge, Han Ye’s dark, hyper-aware eyes met his father’s. The two exchanged a brief, silent look—an unspoken understanding between two protectors that Lin Qing had been left to rest.

”Morning, Commander,” a low voice called out softly from the kitchen nook.

Sun Hao and Old Wang were already at the counter, firing up the stovetop integrated into the suite’s kitchenette. The rich, savory aroma of heated canned meat, rehydrated vegetables, and hot water for tea began to fill the living area.

”Morning,” Han Zheng replied in a low tone, walking over to the sink to wash his face with cold water. ”Keep the noise down. Let her sleep a little longer.”

”Already on it, sir,” Old Wang nodded, lowering his voice as he flipped the military rations in the heavy iron skillet. ”We prepared enough for the whole squad.”

Ten minutes later, the door to Lin Qing’s room clicked open.

Lin Qing stepped out into the lounge, looking completely restored. Her dark eyes were sharp, her posture erect, and the deep exhaustion that had weighed on her the previous night had entirely vanished.

”Morning, Sister Lin!” Gu An called out happily, though she quickly checked herself and lowered her voice, glancing at Han Ye, who gave a small, approving nod.

”Good morning,” Lin Qing said, a faint smile touching her lips as she looked at the children before turning her gaze to Han Zheng.

Han Zheng was standing by the counter, holding a steaming mug of hot water. His dark eyes softened as he looked at her. ”Sleep well?”

”Very well,” Lin Qing replied softly, her dark gaze holding his for a meaningful second. Neither of them said anything, but the quiet understanding hung comfortably in the air between them.

”Food’s ready, Lin Qing. Come grab a plate.” Old Wang said cheerfully.

Lin Qing walked over to the long dining table set beside the suite’s kitchen. Sun Hao immediately pulled out a chair for her, passing her a plate heaped with hot rations and a steaming cup of tea before serving themselves and the children.

As they ate together around the table, the soldiers talked naturally about the day’s routine—guard rotation schedules, water filtration pressure in the lower levels, and fuel inventory.

They didn’t treat Lin Qing like a delicate survivor; they spoke to her directly, asking for her input on patrol spacing and spatial bottlenecks near the transit bay.

Lin Qing answered effortlessly, her sharp mind offering precise adjustments without a second thought. Sitting among the soldiers in the dining area, an undeniable truth settled deep within her: whether she remembered her past or not, being surrounded by discipline and taking command was as natural to her as breathing.

---

Meanwhile, on the upper levels of the Research Center, the bright morning overheads hummed to life across the expansive upper canteen block.

The Sector 4 depot population was waking up to their first official morning inside the massive facility.

Families gathered around the heavy steel cafeteria tables, filling their bowls with warm porridge.

Guo Jiong sat at a corner table, carefully feeding his young daughter a spoonful of warm grain. Beside them, Song Yan stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp eyes continuously sweeping the broad cafeteria floor.

Near the western exit of the canteen, two younger men who had been part of the former supply detail were standing near the heavy security doors, peering curiously through the reinforced glass window into the quiet, restricted research corridor beyond.

”Hey, look at those glass labs down there,” one of the young men whispered, fidgeting with his keycard. ”You think there are extra medical supplies or lightweight gear in those side rooms? Maybe we can ask the guards to let us take a quick look...”

Before the man could even finish his sentence, a heavy hand slammed down onto his shoulder.

The two men jumped, turning around to find Song Yan standing right behind them, his face carved of cold iron. Three of Song Yan’s most trusted squad leaders stood right at his flanks.

”What did I tell everyone last night when we stepped off those trucks?” Song Yan asked, his voice low, stern, and echoing with unyielding authority.

The young man swallowed hard, shrinking back slightly under his leader’s gaze. ”Brother Song... we were just curious, that’s all. We weren’t going to break anything—”

”Curiosity gets people killed, and disrespect gets us thrown out into the snow,” Song Yan cut him off coldly, his eyes narrowing. ”Commander Han Zheng brought our entire depot group into this Research Center out of pure responsibility and goodwill. He gave us warm housing, clean water, and food for our children. In return, we give them total respect and absolute obedience to their security rules.”

Song Yan stepped closer, pointing a firm finger toward the central canteen area. ”Your keycards give you access to the canteen, the washrooms, and the designated sleeping quarters. You do not look through those doors, you do not touch those keypads, and you do not wander into their research sectors. If I catch either of you—or anyone else from our group—trying to cross a security boundary again, I won’t wait for Captain Lu Feng’s guards to handle it. I will personally drag you down to the lower gates myself. Am I clear?”

”Clear, Brother Song! We’re sorry!” the two men stammered quickly, bowing their heads in deep embarrassment before scrambling back toward the middle of the dining hall.

Guo Jiong watched the exchange from his table, nodding in quiet approval as Song Yan walked back over. ”Good call, Song Yan. Our people are grateful, but some of the younger ones need to be reminded where they stand.”

”They’ll learn,” Song Yan replied calmly, sitting down across from him. ”Commander Han treated us right. We’re going to make sure our people are the easiest guests this base has ever seen.”

While order was maintained in the upper wings, the atmosphere on the lowest maintenance decks of the Research Center was pure, backbreaking agony.

The lower mechanical sub-levels were cold, dark, and filled with the heavy stench of motor oil and iron rust. Exhaust pipes hummed loudly overhead, circulating icy air from the outer vents.

Yang Jun stumbled as he hauled a massive, two-hundred-pound iron crate of spare generator parts across the concrete floor, his boots dragging heavily against the ground.

Every single muscle in his body felt as though it were on fire. His arms trembled violently, his spine throbbed with white-hot pain, and his stomach was sick with absolute exhaustion. He hadn’t slept more than two hours before Han Zheng’s men had slammed the door open at dawn, dragging him right back out for duty.

Clang!

Yang Jun dropped the heavy crate onto the steel racking system, slumping against the cold metal frame as he gasped for air, his chest heaving violently.

”Keep moving, Yang Jun,” a stern voice barked from the doorway.

Xiao Li stood by the access hatch, his hand resting casually on his rifle as he watched him with cold, unblinking eyes.

”Commander Han’s orders,” Xiao Li said coldly, checking his tablet. ”You have six more crates of heavy iron piping to transfer from Vault 3 to the lower engine room before you get your morning ration. Move it.”

Yang Jun’s jaw clenched so tight his facial muscles twitched. Deep in his chest, a wave of dark, venomous hatred burned against Han Zheng.

He knew by now that Han Zheng suspected him and he also knew exactly what the commander was doing—Han Zheng was intentionally breaking his body, working him to the absolute brink of collapse so he wouldn’t have a single grain of energy left to think, scheme, or make contact with anyone else in the facility.

He wanted to throw the iron pipe at Xiao Li’s head. He wanted to scream, to rebel and tear this entire place down from the inside.

But as he looked up and caught the cold, uncompromising eyes of Xiao Li, the reality of his complete helplessness crashed over him.

Swallowing his blood and bile, Yang Jun forced his trembling legs to stand straight. He lowered his head, hiding the murderous rage in his bloodshot eyes behind a pathetic, obedient mask.

”Yes... right away,” Yang Jun rasped, his voice hoarse as he turned back toward the heavy iron crates, completely trapped in the unbreakable net Han Zheng had woven around him.