Surviving the Apocalypse: All I Want Is to Find a Husband
Chapter 179: The Lost or What? (1)

Chapter 179: The Lost or What? (1)

The guilt.

Medeia could see it in his eyes as clear as the summer sky.

When Lucian fled the military, he had left behind more than just a battlefield, he had left behind people.

Comrades. Men and women who had been just as deceived as he once was.

Sometimes, he admitted to her that he still wondered ... What if? What if he had tried harder to bring them with him? What if, instead of killing them before the bomb exploded, he had forced them to run? Would they have listened? Would they still be alive?

But fear makes people desperate. Desperation leads to reckless choices, and so did he.

It had cost him their lives.

And now, he was carrying that guilt all over again. Because he had never gone back. Never looked into what the military wanted from those children. Never stopped to see what the military had truly done to them.

"Lucian." Medeia’s voice was firm but gentle. "We don’t even know the full story yet. You don’t have to take the blame for something that isn’t even clear."

He didn’t respond, so she stepped closer. "But no matter what happened to them, it wasn’t your fault. No one can blame a man for running away when he’s just trying to survive."

Lucian opened his mouth as if to argue, but no words came out. He lowered his head in frustration, only to meet Sierra’s eyes, still clinging tightly to Medeia’s clothes.

The little girl gazed at him with her big, round eyes before suddenly reaching out.

Lucian chuckled as the warmth spread through his chest. "Are you trying to tell me not to be sad?"

He leaned forward slightly, letting Sierra’s tiny fingers brush against his face. His voice softened. "I’m not sad anymore ... thanks to you."

Medeia let out a soft laugh when she witnessed their sweet interaction. "Look at you. You’re already acting like a dad."

Lucian opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Ethan’s sharp voice sliced through the moment.

"Hey, what’s wrong with him?"

Everyone turned their heads at once, their gazes locking onto a young soldier sitting in the corner of the room.

Unlike the others, he had been silent from the very beginning, showing no signs of panic or fear. At first, Medeia had assumed he simply had a stronger mentality than his comrades.

But now, she realized it was the opposite because he was showing signs of turning into one of the Lost.

His entire body was trembling violently, his pupils rolling back until only the whites of his eyes were visible. Foam dribbled from the corners of his mouth, thick and frothy, as if he had just swallowed a lethal poison.

"Is he turning into the Lost?" Ren asked, his voice tense. "Medeia, what did you do to him?!"

"What did I do?!" Medeia snapped back, just as loudly. "All I did was knock him out so I could bring him here! Come on! I didn’t even hit him!"

He shouldn’t be this shaken just because Medeia knocked him out and brought him to a place filled with fresh greenery. If anything, he should be relieved, maybe even grateful instead of spiraling into despair!

These kids acted like they had just stepped out of a paradise, one minor obstacle, and they crumbled into dust.

Wait ... what if that was exactly the case?

What if they had spent their entire lives locked inside the military base, never once setting foot outside?

Not as prisoners subjected to torture like the women in Stormclad, but as something who had to be protected, coddled, shielded from the horrors of the world.

Their skin was too smooth, too flawless, a clear evidence of high-quality nutrition and supplements, luxuries that were nearly impossible to come by in a world that had crumble into nothing.

They knew how to hold weapons, but their technique was sloppy, their aim laughable.

And their hands were soft, unblemished, untouched by the roughness that came from years of handling firearms or training for war.

These weren’t soldiers.

They were only acting soldiers.

However, what was the point of giving these kids a life of comfort only to turn them into soldiers in the end? Wouldn’t it have been easier to shape them through hardship and struggle from the very beginning?

"Hey," Medeia turned to Finn. She sharpened her tone. "Tell me the truth. Have you really been training as a soldier ever since you arrived at the military base?"

"I—"

"Answer me honestly," she interrupted, her tone firm. "Your friend’s life depends on it."

Not that she was entirely sure about that. Once someone started turning into the Lost, there was no stopping it.

Everyone should have known that. But if these kids had been sheltered, cut off from the reality of the outside world, maybe ... maybe Finn truly had no idea.

"N-no," Finn stammered, his throat dry. "We’ve only been training for the past three months." He hesitated, then admitted, "We weren’t soldiers before that."

Three months? That was insane.

"Then what the hell were you doing in the military base before that?" Medeia pressed, her patience wearing thin. "If you weren’t training to be soldiers, then what?"

"Nothing." Finn took an instinctive step back as his comrade’s body began to tremble, transforming into something else.

"Nothing?" Lucian’s gaze darkened. "What do you mean, nothing?"

"Like I said," Finn’s voice wavered, his fear filling his words, "nothing. They never ordered us to do anything. We just studied, ate, and slept, like normal people."

The more Finn explained, the less sense any of this made. Medeia tried to piece it together, but she didn’t have a chance to think further, not when the soldier in front of them was undergoing a transformation.

His body swelled, muscles expanding until he was nearly twice his original size. But unlike the typical Lost, he wasn’t turning into a beast or some grotesque creature.

He still looked human, just unnaturally strong and full of muscle.

"What the hell ..." Medeia instinctively stepped back, tightening her grip on Sierra. She couldn’t afford to be reckless while holding a child. "Ren, do me a favor. Take Sierra somewhere safe."