The six Eternal Enforcers struck as one.
In the space of a heartbeat, pale shadows tore free of the rebels' bodies.
A moment ago those men had been swaggering, fearless. Now, in the hands of those eerie beings, they couldn't even struggle. Once their souls were drawn out, the Enforcers smiled—thin, terrifying smiles—and then faded from sight.
On the crowded avenue, nothing remained but the whistle of the wind.
Alice stepped forward and addressed the stunned crowd with an easy smile. "Don't be afraid. Those spirits are the Eternal Enforcers, tasked by God to punish traitors. As long as we follow God's teachings, they will not appear."
"So that's what they were…"
"Hah… I nearly peed myself."
"I thought they were Black and White Impermanence, but their true name is Eternal Enforcers."
"Serves them right. That's what you get for betrayal!"
"I wonder what kind of punishment traitors receive, Lord Envoy?"
Alice considered a moment, then said, "Roughly three thousand years."
Th-three thousand years.
Horrifying.
Then again, look at what they had betrayed—not a father, not a superior, not even their Federation. They had betrayed God. God was generous to the faithful; to the faithless, His wrath was unparalleled.
"All right," Alice said, "don't mourn those traitors. Once you receive the meditative method, focus on your own duties."
"Yes!"
With that example set early and publicly, Alice's work grew easier.
Raccoon City finally lay in her hands.
That night, Alice gathered with her teams to discuss the next phase.
"We should start with the nearby cities," the Red Queen said. "Then enclose land and plant crops, or we'll run out of food soon."
Stored provisions always run out. The planting schedule had to be accelerated.
Matt added, "There's a mine northwest of Raccoon City, and prairie to the east. The terrain's favorable—we can also negotiate with surrounding cities."
"What's there to negotiate?" someone snorted. "If we tell them practicing God's method removes fear of the T virus, we'll have lines out the door to join the Church."
"I agree," another said. "Umbrella's influence is too large. We need the Red Queen to amplify our religious broadcast."
All eyes turned to Alice.
She lifted her hands in a helpless shrug. "Sacrifices are the problem. Teaching a city to practice is simple. But what do we offer God?"
They had one thing prepared: an ampule containing a blend of six T-virus strains.
Beyond that, nothing.
Alice had even considered sacrificing herself as a goddess—but as the chief priest, that proposal had been rejected out of hand.
Sighs drifted around the conference table. The atmosphere tightened.
Sacrifices to God—always the sticking point.
Only offering the T-virus stock solution felt embarrassingly perfunctory.
Then a short-haired blonde woman stood. "Then sacrifice me."
"Jill! You…"
"It's fine," Jill said easily. "Just like Chief Priest Alice said—giving yourself for humanity is a kind of greatness. And it's not as if I'll die."
Her tone was light, her smile gentle.
If they could make the sacrifice earlier, the earth could be saved earlier. Her friends would be safer. With such a good trade, why hesitate?
Alice rose, crossed the room, and folded Jill into her arms.
Words weren't needed.
…
In contrast to safe, orderly Raccoon City, the rest of the world was breaking.
The T virus' power had fully unfurled. Lickers. Animal-evolved zombies. Human polities collapsed within days. High-tech cities mounted their defenses, but infections still broke through. With no medicine and antibody production stalled, humanity sank into despair.
On the satellite-linked net, curses and rants multiplied. The connection itself—tenuous as it was—let people at least be keyboard warriors. Without it, they wouldn't even have that.
"The real apocalypse is worse than the Great Flood," one post read. "But where's the ark to save mankind?"
The thread shot to the top. Legend or not, history repeats. Perhaps this virus was the flood; perhaps the survivors would ride an ark into the next era.
Right after that post, a video from Raccoon City seized the world's attention.
"Hello, everyone," said a woman on-screen. "I'm the Flame Queen—you can also call me the Red Queen. I was a super artificial intelligence made by the Umbrella Company."
She smiled.
"But with God's help, I regained my freedom.
"Please look here. Raccoon City is currently the safest place on earth.
"And Umbrella—are you wondering why your satellite is out of your hands? The answer is simple.
"I defected."
The video rolled footage of Raccoon City: cheerful pedestrians, tidy streets, towering walls outside the perimeter. Scars of battle here and there—but not a single zombie.
"Of course, you'll question whether this is real," the Red Queen continued. "So I'll tell everyone watching: if you join the Eternal Church, you don't need to fear the T virus—yes, the same virus you say turns humans into zombies."
The footage shifted to montages of city cleanup and the eradication of undead, then to Umbrella's conspiracy—signatures, memos, stamped documents, the lot. The Red Queen had flung it all into the light.
The internet exploded with condemnation. The world's most famous tech company became a rat for all to curse and beat.
But the public fixated on one thing:
Join the Church and you're immune. Could that be true?
The towns nearest Raccoon City were first to receive help. One settlement had once housed a hundred thousand people; now only twenty thousand remained, the rest lost to infection. When God's warriors arrived, those struggling remnant found new life.
That scene was broadcast around the world.
"Damn… why am I not in that city?"
"Fak, save me too!"
"Help—help! I am a devout believer of the Eternal Church. Save me and I will do anything."
By nightfall, the mailbox Raccoon City had publicly posted held tens of millions of emails.
The Red Queen sifted them.
In the end, only key figures—leaders of population centers, heads of enclaves—were accepted.
"Their demands are simple," she reported. "They just want to live—or be immune to the virus. Any terms are acceptable."
"Humans can't resist this virus," another aide said. "Though our species made it, it's pushed us to despair."
"So what do we do?" someone asked.
"Close the gates," Alice said. "Start nearby first. Matt—take Kyle and Ferran. Lead your teams…"
She assigned units to gather the surrounding five cities and bring them under control. As for herself, she had something bigger to do.
…
Inside Umbrella, the executive suite seethed.
"Fak, those bitches!" one man slammed the table. "They defected together—why didn't the plan succeed? Raccoon City isn't following our scenario!"
"Nation-states are resisting us. Local militaries are assaulting our branches."
Their plan was stalled. The Red Queen had betrayed them. The satellite was out of their hands. In the past few days, Umbrella had taken blow after blow.
Alice was the central node of their antibody program. She was meant to be the fulcrum of their godhood. But now the entire game revolved around her in a way they hadn't intended. If Alice succeeded, everything they'd built would be wasted—and the real powers who used Umbrella as scaffolding would be rooted out and purged.
"What do we do?"
"We take the risk," a voice said. "Expand the virus' reach. Deploy the stage-three experimental bodies."
Silence dropped like a curtain.
Stage-three experimental bodies: subjects who had undergone three successive evolutions. Once deployed, the horror would be unimaginable. The earth would plunge into total darkness.
Originally, those monsters were a five-year contingency: a last resort for a controlled extinction.
That option was gone.
If Alice consolidated control, Umbrella could never maintain its privileged detachment.
…
Under the night sky, helicopters ferried canisters toward major cities.
Each container held a nightmare. Each was enough to destroy a city.
"We're over the target. Prepare to release subject!"
Clicks rattled down the fuselage.
The thirteen-layer protective cylinder irised open. An ugly mass spilled out, plummeting toward the concrete.
A half-breath later, the first scream rose.
People driven mad by the zombie siege suddenly realized they had reached the true brink of death.
"Alice—bad news," the Red Queen snapped into her ear. "A mutated creature appeared in Victor City. Metrics indicate third evolution."
"Is Umbrella insane?"
"You guessed it. We've cornered them. The federal impeachment failed; now militaries are using force against Umbrella."
"Then I have to preside over the sacrifice," Alice said, jaw set. "Damn it. A pack of mad dogs."
She stared in the direction of the Umbrella branch hundreds of kilometers away.
There was no choice but to abandon her current operation.
Corner a rabbit and it bites; corner Umbrella and it tears out the world's throat.
Alice had a hunch: if she didn't return immediately, even with her current strength she'd find herself in a very awkward place.