The church bells had long ceased their melodic chiming, replaced only by a silence steeped in despair.
Queen Maeve leaned against the rusted body of a school bus, panting heavily.
The blade in her hand was no longer pristine; dark crimson blood had coagulated on its surface, emitting a sickly sweet, metallic stench.
"Load the wounded! Anyone who can still move, gather supplies!" she commanded.
Her voice was hoarse and laced with undeniable exhaustion, yet every word rang clear and resolute.
Behind her, the survivors cowered in the church's shadow, looking at her in terror.
They were the town's residents—the elderly, the children—and in this moment, this blood-drenched woman was their sole pillar of support.
She organized the strongest men, forming a makeshift convoy out of trucks and school buses.
They had to leave. They had to escape.
Looking at the map, she pressed her finger against the highway leading to the West Coast. They were going to head there and take a boat to Huaxia.
Rumor had it that Huaxia was the only place where order was still maintained. It was their only hope, no matter how slim.
The convoy had barely left the town's limits, the roar of their engines still lingering in the air, when a blinding streak of red light suddenly tore across the horizon.
The light was impossibly fast, like a bolt of bloody lightning, instantly sweeping past the town they had just fled.
Piercing, distorted screams echoed in the distance, tearing at everyone's eardrums.
The sanctuary that had been peaceful just moments ago was transformed into a churning hellscape of flesh and blood within a single second. Those who had refused to flee all became new victims of the infection.
The red lightning did not pause for even a moment, continuing its mad dash toward the next illuminated target.
The highway had become a corridor to hell.
Crazed convoys driven by the infected rampaged across the asphalt, chasing and devouring one another.
In the distance, the burning city billowed with bloody smoke, forming a massive, crimson cross against the setting sun, branding the blood-red sky.
"Roar—!"
A modified truck charged at them like a mad bull.
The door was violently shoved open, and Maeve leaped out into the howling wind like a descending Valkyrie.
Her sword flashed, and the head of the frenzied infected driver in the cab went flying.
She landed on the roof of the vehicle, letting the cold blood splatter across her armor, her expression already numb.
Time and time again, she carved a bloody path for the convoy, cleaving open a road to survival for the fragile lives behind her.
Along the way, they rescued even more people.
In this thoroughly fallen land, the unextinguished humanity within Maeve became the sole banner uniting their hearts.
New York, at the base of Vought Tower.
Homelander was bound to his own statue by golden chains like a broken ragdoll.
His eyes were unfocused, a bizarre trail of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth as he muttered meaningless gibberish.
He was completely broken.
Butcher stood nearby, his chest heaving violently as he gasped for air.
He glanced at the Crossed infected who were obediently lining up behind him, then stepped aside to make room.
The ecstasy of revenge receded like the tide, leaving behind a dead, overwhelming emptiness.
A sense of agony and confusion, magnified a thousandfold by the virus, began to gnaw at his sanity.
What should he do? What was he supposed to do next?
Just then, a face surfaced in his chaotic mind without warning.
Becca.
His wife's face.
The softest, purest love, buried deep beneath layers of hatred, erupted like a searing beam of light.
In an instant, it pierced through the dark corruption brought on by the Crossed virus.
He had a more important goal.
A goal far more important than revenge.
Find her!
Butcher spun around, his crimson eyes locking onto the towering structure of Vought Tower.
"Becca!"
He let out a suppressed roar, his legs exploding with power as he launched himself like a cannonball, crashing violently into the building's main entrance.
Boom—!!!
The alloy doors instantly twisted and deformed, shattered to pieces by his pure, unadulterated violence.
Any infected in his way were obliterated into piles of sparking mechanical parts and shredded flesh by his berserk strength.
He violently forced his way to the top floor, charging toward the database that stored all of the company's secrets.
In front of the main server, a cold electronic voice chimed.
"Insufficient permissions. Identification failed."
The complex biometric system barred his entry.
Butcher's eyes immediately fired a beam of orange-red heat vision, melting a massive hole in the adjacent wall.
He rushed inside, rummaging through the ocean of data until, finally, he found a heavily encrypted, top-secret file.
He clicked it open, and a video popped up.
The footage showed a beautifully scenic suburban villa.
The sun was shining brightly over a lush green lawn.
A familiar figure was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch.
It was Becca! She was still alive!
Butcher's breathing stopped for a second.
He stared intently at the screen, terrified that it was merely a hallucination.
Right then, a small figure ran out of the house and threw himself into Becca's arms.
It was a young boy, around ten years old.
The moment he saw Becca's face, a love and hope powerful enough to reverse everything erupted from the deepest depths of Butcher's heart.
This power was far more scorching and pure than hatred.
The berserk, bloodthirsty desires within him were forcefully suppressed in the face of this overwhelming emotion.
Only one thought remained in his mind.
Find her, and bring her home!
Meanwhile, deep within another continent.
Soldier Boy let out a roar of satisfaction, his primal desires having found the ultimate release.
Beneath him, the Matriarch from ancient times showed no fear; instead, her eyes gleamed with an even more cunning light.
"Mighty king, you are like an ancient god," the Matriarch whispered in his ear, her tone dripping with seduction.
"I am actually not alone. Deep within this continent lies my tribe."
Soldier Boy paused his movements, a flicker of interest flashing in his eyes.
"A tribe composed entirely of sisters from ancient times, just like us."
"They worship the strong. They have waited for thousands of years, waiting for a true king to conquer them, to lead us, and to rule this brand-new world."
Hearing this, Soldier Boy threw his head back and laughed maniacally, the sound shaking the entire ruin.
Homelander? Revenge?
To hell with all of that!
Compared to these rich, sweet 'fine wines' that had aged for millennia, none of that mattered!
He was going to be their king!
He roughly grabbed the Matriarch, pinpointed the direction she indicated, and leaped directly into the air from where he stood.
His heart was filled with unprecedented satisfaction and anticipation for the future.
Butcher flew forward like a madman, smashing through everything in his path, be it buildings or the infected.
Finally, the villa situated by the lake appeared in his line of sight.
There was no warmth here as he had imagined, only a deathly silence.
"Becca!!"
He kicked the front door open, roaring his wife's name.
The only response was an empty echo.
The living room was completely deserted.
On the floor lay a massive, shocking pool of dark red blood that had long since dried.
A few children's toys were scattered beside the bloodstain.
Butcher's heart sank, inch by inch, straight to the bottom.
He turned his head stiffly and looked into the shadows of the corner.
A small, thin figure was hugging its knees, shivering uncontrollably.
The child slowly lifted his head and looked at him.
His eyes flickered with extreme terror, along with... an impossible-to-ignore, ominous red glow.
On his forehead were several blood-red blisters.