Chapter 156: Brain Damaged, Fireseed Shelter

Chapter 156: Chapter 156: Brain Damaged, Fireseed Shelter

Dustin Sullivan made sure the soundproofing barrier was stable before continuing with the heart-pounding prophecy.

"An item predicted that on our last day in this dungeon, an extremely terrifying event will occur. Something called the ’Black Night Tide’ will appear."

"Regarding the Black Night Tide, I made a point to ask these Native People about it while we were fleeing. According to them, the ’Black Night Tide’ is the beginning of a full-blown beast tide.

At that time, the darkness will no longer just be a backdrop. It will transform into a wave that devours everything. Countless terrifying monsters will pour out from the depths of the darkness like a flood, sweeping over every corner."

Dustin Sullivan’s voice was low and serious. "According to the Native People, when the tide comes, nowhere outside will be safe. The only chance of survival is to hide in a sufficiently sturdy Shelter with strong defenses. Only then might there be a sliver of hope to make it through."

After hearing Dustin Sullivan’s words, Seraphina Sullivan immediately understood the crisis.

’Black Night Tide?’

’That doesn’t sound good at all. It’s almost as if the system deliberately increased the difficulty of the seven-day survival mission.’

"Just the name alone gives me an unsettling feeling."

"Tell me about it,"

Dustin Sullivan sighed, a heavy shadow clouding his features.

"That’s why I feel we must unite as many Players as possible and concentrate our strength. Only then might we survive this tide. If we go it alone, I’m afraid we won’t even withstand the first wave."

Seraphina Sullivan understood Dustin Sullivan’s reasoning.

There’s strength in numbers—an immutable truth in an apocalyptic environment.

But uniting Players was easier said than done. In fact, it was nearly impossible.

People are unpredictable and tangled in their own interests. Under the pressure of survival, any promise becomes flimsy and worthless; such alliances couldn’t be maintained by mere verbal agreements.

"We can’t rush into an alliance, nor can we force it," Seraphina Sullivan analyzed calmly, her voice exceptionally clear in the silent ruins.

"Our priority right now is to get to the Shelter and complete the main quest. Since the system issued a main quest to enter a Shelter, a lot of Players are bound to have gathered there. It’ll be a natural hub for information and manpower. Once we get there and assess the situation, you can start looking for suitable candidates based on the reality of our circumstances. It’s better than blindly searching like a headless chicken."

After briefly mulling over Seraphina Sullivan’s analysis, Dustin Sullivan nodded.

Seraphina Sullivan’s plan was clearly more reliable and better suited to the current situation.

If he blindly sought out Players for cooperation, he might not find help, but rather a hidden danger waiting to explode.

Their secret discussion over, the two returned to the group’s temporary resting spot, one after the other.

By the campfire, the atmosphere seemed calm, but an imperceptible undercurrent was stirring.

Nicholas Jensen, who had been watching their movements from the corner of his eye, stood up almost immediately. He sauntered over, feigning casualness with a perfectly measured look of curiosity on his face. "Hey, what were you two whispering about over there? You both look grimmer than the other. You’re making me nervous."

Seraphina Sullivan stopped and glanced at him. Her gaze was calm and placid, yet it made Nicholas Jensen feel as though he were being targeted by something dangerous.

"Nothing much. We just learned some rather bad news."

"Rather bad news?"

Nicholas Jensen’s curiosity was completely piqued, and he leaned forward unconsciously.

In their short time together, he had come to understand just how unfathomable Seraphina Sullivan was—calm, decisive, and with an endless arsenal of methods.

News that could make such a powerful expert wear a grave expression was definitely no small matter.

He even secretly weighed his chances. Unless he went all out, using his trump-card high-level equipment and forbidden techniques, he wouldn’t dare claim he could secure a victory against Seraphina Sullivan.

This news might be a matter of life and death.

He plastered a concerned smile on his face and pressed, "What is it, exactly? Tell us, so we can all figure something out together."

Seraphina Sullivan looked at his "sincere" thirst for knowledge and suddenly smiled. The smile was playful, like a cat examining a mouse under its paw. "You want to know?"

Nicholas Jensen nodded eagerly, his eyes fervent.

"Sure,"

Seraphina Sullivan’s tone was light, as if she were discussing the weather.

"Then trade the truth for it. For example, what else are you hiding?"

The smile on Nicholas Jensen’s face froze instantly. His gaze darted about uncontrollably as he subconsciously avoided Seraphina Sullivan’s stare, which seemed to see through everything.

His Adam’s apple bobbed unnaturally.

He let out a dry laugh, trying to cover his momentary panic. "Huh? Wh-what are you talking about? I... When have I ever lied to you? I’m just an ordinary Player who’s had a bit of good luck..."

Seeing his guilty, flustered, and incoherent state, Seraphina Sullivan didn’t press further, simply replying with two meaningful words:

"Heh heh..."

The two light syllables had no real substance, yet they carried more pressure than any harsh interrogation.

The laugh wasn’t loud, but it sent a strange chill down the back of Nicholas Jensen’s neck, as if a cold wind had just blown by, sending a shiver up his spine.

Nicholas Jensen: ’This woman acts like she knows everything. Did I expose something?’

Meanwhile, Seraphina Sullivan’s gaze quietly fell upon the only three Native People.

With a flicker of thought, [Eye of Resume] activated silently.

Three simple data panels appeared in her vision.

Their names were: Eli Bolton, Wanda Lynn, and Ken Quinn.

At this moment, the three of them—two men and one woman—clearly knew each other. The shock and bewilderment of their homes’ destruction lingered on their faces. Their expressions were ashen, as if their backbones had been ripped out, making them a stark contrast to Seraphina Sullivan’s group of "Players."

The woman named Wanda Lynn was even unconsciously hunching her shoulders, as if still dodging non-existent attacks.

Seraphina Sullivan walked over, her voice deliberately gentle to try and ease their tension. "I heard from Dustin Sullivan that you’re heading to the nearest Shelter?"

Among the three, Ken Quinn—the tallest and most composed—took a deep breath, forcing himself to break free from his grief and panic. He looked at Seraphina Sullivan with a trace of vigilance in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by the desperate urgency to find a path to survival:

"Yes, we have to leave this place. We’re planning to go to the biggest and supposedly safest Shelter around here, called ’Fireseed Shelter’."

"Fireseed Shelter?" Nicholas Jensen, who was listening nearby, found the name carried a deliberate symbolism that didn’t quite fit this hopeless apocalypse, and he voiced his confusion unconsciously.

His question immediately drew strange looks from the three Native People.

Ken Quinn’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked at Nicholas Jensen. "You... you don’t know about Fireseed Shelter?" It was common knowledge for nearly every survivor in this area.