Chapter 583

Chapter 583 The Blood–Soaked Survivor
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Finished
Just as Theresa had expected, they had chosen the right location. That was why the rescue team reached them first, making her group the very first to be picked up.
The helicopter veered off toward other parts of Stratford.
From her seat, Theresa saw with her own eyes how others had survived in sheer desperation.
One man had hidden inside a bronze statue surrounded by zombies. He had endured three days without food or water, soaked in rain the whole time. But because he couldn’t move and the helicopter couldn’t land, he was abandoned–disqualified after making it so far.
Others were just as unlucky. Some were swarmed by zombies the moment they tried to reach the extraction point. Anyone bitten, clawed, or caught was immediately forsaken by the helicopter as well.
It wasn’t until the very end, when the operation was about to close, that Theresa saw the second person to clear the assessment.
He was drenched in blood from head to toe, as if he had been soaked in it. His clothes were stained a deep brown, and he stood atop a plaza monument surrounded by corpses. In his hand was a machete, collected from somewhere along the way.
By the time he was lifted into the helicopter, his abilities were drained, his body empty of strength. His face was ghostly pale, his lips cracked, and streaked with dried blood.
His features were almost unrecognizable, though the structure of his face suggested he wasn’t unattractive. His hand trembled violently as he clung to his weapon, but he never let go.
Inside the helicopter, bottles of water were passed around. Everyone drank greedily. The blood–soaked man was clearly desperate for it too. He snatched a bottle but, shivering, couldn’t twist the cap open.
“Beautiful, that guy’s about done for,” Quentin murmured lazily, leaning back in his seat and tilting his head toward Theresa.
She had already noticed. On his third failed attempt, his fingers too stiff to even grip the grooves, a bottle with an already opened cap rolled to his side.
After drinking, the man raised his head, blood clinging to his lashes. Through the blur, he saw light–her.
“Beautiful…”
“Shut up. I’m taking a nap. Wake me when we arrive.” The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the ~net
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11:41 Thu, Oct 23
Chapter 583 The Blood–Soaked Survivor
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885
Finished
Watching as Theresa closed her eyes to rest, Quentin lifted his lips in a quiet smile. “Alrighty.”
He pulled a blanket from the cabin and draped it over her, then adjusted the air vent so it wouldn’t blow on her.
The helicopter’s blades beat the air as it returned to the island. The moment they stepped onto solid ground, a wave of warmth greeted them, and the survivors felt as though they had crossed into another world.
More than three thousand had taken part in the trial. Only eight were left alive. Of those, six owed their survival to Theresa. Which meant that apart from her group, the only other person who had made it was the man drenched in blood. Everyone else had been left behind in Stratford.
A broadcast echoed across the island. “Congratulations, survivors. You are now candidates for the next generation of leaders. Please rest here for the night. Tomorrow, helicopters will take you to the final assessment site.”
After the announcement, staff in white coats–A–Rank employees–escorted them to a brand- new dormitory building.
This time, each person was given a private room. The moment they stepped inside, the door locked from within. Theresa exchanged a glance with Quentin, who immediately understood.
The rooms were luxurious, each with a private bathroom, a wardrobe filled with white uniforms, a refrigerator, and a working microwave. The fridge was stocked to the brim— snacks, Coke, pastries, even rice balls–all clearly meant for their meals.
Theresa inspected carefully and found surveillance cameras in every corner, including the bathroom. Without hesitation, she threw clothes over every lens. Showering in peace was worth more than pretending to play along.
By the time she finished bathing and changed into the provided uniform, dusk had settled. The hallway lights hadn’t yet turned on, leaving the building in a faint gloom. That was when she heard the sound of a lock turning at her door.
She moved silently to the side, waiting. The lock clicked, and as the door creaked open, a tall figure in white appeared.
The man stood at least six feet one, with short hair, a sharp nose, and thin lips. His profile was striking, almost flawless. The only imperfection was the panda mask covering his eyes. He turned his head, revealing a single uncovered eye glinting in the dim light.
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