Apocalypse: I Have A Multiplier System - Chapter 465

Chapter 465: Chapter 465: Escape
Without any more delay, he grabbed the boy’s arm and plunged the needle in.

The boy’s body jerked once, then stiffened.

A few seconds later, he started to twitch, his little face twisting in pain. His back arched slightly off the ground as a silent scream escaped his lips — too weak even to make a sound.

“Good,” one of the men said with a cruel smile. “Looks like it’s working.”

They left him there, closing the heavy door behind them with a loud clang.

Inside the dark room, the boy gasped for air, tears leaking from the corners of his tightly shut eyes.

He didn’t know how long he lay there.

Minutes? Hours?

All he knew was pain. Endless, burning pain.

And in his blurry mind, a single thought kept spinning:

I have to get out.

However, the next few hours were just torture for him. And for a moment, even he wished he could die.

He felt his life force draining away. His body was ice-cold, his mind a blur of confusion and pain.

Is this how I die? he thought.

His vision turned darker and darker.

I can’t… I don’t want to die…

Just when he was about to give up, something miraculous happened.

A strange, warm energy blossomed deep in his core—like a tiny sun igniting inside his broken body.

At first, it was just a flicker.

But then, it spread fast — wrapping around his organs, his blood, his bones.

The burning pain from the injection didn’t just dull—it disappeared completely.

The boy’s trembling slowed. His body, once frozen with pain, now buzzed with a terrifying strength.

He blinked.

His mind cleared.

He was alive.

And he was stronger.

Very slowly, he pushed himself up from the ground, sitting upright.

Outside the iron bars, a subordinate who had been casually monitoring him sneered and muttered,

“Hah, look at that. The kid stopped screaming. He’ll die soon. Just watch.”

But the boy wasn’t dying.

Far from it.

In the next second, before the man could react, the boy launched forward.

Boom!

Like a small missile, he smashed through the iron bars as if they were paper.

The subordinate gasped and tried to activate his superpower, but it was far too late.

In an instant, the boy was in front of him.

With a single punch, a punch backed by strength a thousand times beyond his own body weight, he struck the man straight in the chest.

Crack!

The subordinate’s ribs broke audibly, and he was thrown backward, slamming against the wall like a broken doll.

The boy didn’t stay to look.

His instincts screamed at him — Run!

His small feet carried him faster than he ever thought possible, dashing through the long, dimly lit corridors of the laboratory.

Alarms started to wail.

“Security breach!”

“Subject 213 has escaped!”

But the boy was already sprinting up the stairs, zigzagging like a blur. Security guards chased after him, but they couldn’t even catch a glimpse of his shadow.

I have to get out… the boy thought desperately.

Passing the heavy doors and entering a ventilation shaft, he squeezed through the tight space and found a maintenance hatch leading up.

At last, after what felt like forever, he reached the surface.

The sky was dark, clouds covering the stars. The ruined streets of Rover Base stretched out before him.

The boy didn’t stop.

He ran.

He ran through broken alleys and burned-down shops, weaving between abandoned cars and piles of rubble.

All he knew was that he had to get as far away from that laboratory as possible.

He knew, deep in his heart, that if they caught him again — they would kill him.

They must never catch me again… never…

But after a while, the energy he had felt earlier began to fade.

His legs grew heavy.

His vision blurred.

And worst of all—his stomach growled fiercely.

The hollow, painful growl echoed inside him, shaking his small body.

Still, the boy gritted his teeth and pressed on, suppressing his hunger with sheer will.

He needed shelter.

He needed a place to hide.

Knock, knock, knock!

He knocked on the first door he saw, desperate.

The door creaked open slightly, and a suspicious old man peeked out.

“Please…” the boy begged hoarsely,

“Please help me… there’s a bad organization, they kidnapped me… I escaped… I just need a place to stay for a while! I’ll do anything! Chores, cleaning… please…”

The old man narrowed his eyes and slammed the door shut.

Bam!

Rejected.

The boy clenched his fists tighter and staggered to the next house.

He repeated the same words. Begged. Pleaded.

But again and again, the people turned him away.

“Get lost, brat! Don’t think you can trick me!”

“Another scammer. Go find someone else to leech off.”

“No food here for useless mouths!”

Their words were like knives stabbing into his little heart.

He bowed, he swore he would work, he promised he wouldn’t be a burden.

But no one cared.

The boy wiped his eyes roughly, feeling his throat tighten.

No one wanted him.

The world was cold.

He thought about giving up.

But just then—his eyes caught sight of something in the distance.

A long line.

A huge crowd.

And above the murmuring voices, he caught a few words:

“Free food… Boss Su… giving away… free food…!”

His small body jerked upright.

Free food? he thought in disbelief.

Without thinking, he stumbled toward the line, his legs dragging with exhaustion but refusing to stop.

Maybe… just maybe…

He tightened his fists.

Maybe today’s not the end for me after all…

The boy stood quietly at the end of the line, his small hands clenched into fists.

His body swayed a little from exhaustion, but he stayed firm, biting his lip hard.

Just a little more… just a little more and it’ll be my turn, he told himself.

The line moved forward slowly. People chatted among themselves, talking about how Boss Su was the only kind of person left who still cared enough to give out free food.

The boy’s heart thumped faster with every step closer.

But just as he was thirty people away from the front, a big hand clamped down on his thin shoulder.

The boy froze.

“No!” he gasped under his breath, turning around sharply.

Behind him stood a man, tall, wearing a rough jacket, with a fake smile stretching his mouth. His eyes were cold, sharp like knives.

“There you are, son,” the man said in a loud, cheerful voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

The boy’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“No! Don’t come near me!”

The crowd would be stunned by the boy’s reaction and start to chat. One of the brave people in the line would also intervene.

“What is going on?”

The rough jacket man would say with an apologetic smile,

“He is my son, and I am here to take him away.”

“No!” The boy shouted, twisting away.

“He’s not my father! He’s from the organization! He kidnaps kids! They torture us! They do experiments on us! Someone, please help me!”

The people nearby turned, startled by the boy’s sudden cries.

The man didn’t miss a beat. He let out a long, tired sigh and spoke in a calm, steady voice.

“Everyone, please forgive him,” the man said sadly.

“My boy… he’s sick. Lost his mind during the apocalypse. He covers himself in dirt and hurts himself because he can’t deal with everything that’s happened. It’s been so hard for him…”

The crowd started murmuring.

Their eyes softened.

In this harsh world, seeing someone lose their mind wasn’t rare. In fact, it happened all the time.

Some of them nodded, sympathy flashing in their eyes.

Poor kid, they thought. Poor father, too.

The boy’s face turned white. He shook his head hard, tears filling his eyes.

“No! I’m not crazy! He’s lying! He’s not my father! Please believe me!” he shouted, his voice cracking.

But then, the man suddenly dropped to his knees.

Tears streamed down his face.

“Please,” he begged, voice choking.

“Don’t say that, son. I know you blame me for not protecting you… But don’t deny your father like this. It breaks my heart… I’m doing my best for you… Please… someone, help me bring him home.”

The boy’s chest tightened painfully.

The people around started speaking up.

“You should listen to your dad, boy.”

“He’s crying for you! Can’t you see how much he cares?”

“You’re lucky you even have a father still alive!”

One of the people in the line — a middle-aged man with tired eyes — stepped forward and gently pushed the boy toward the kneeling man.

“Go home, son,” he said. “Don’t hurt your father anymore.”

The boy stumbled from the push, falling hard onto the cracked pavement.

His palms scraped against the rough ground, but he hardly felt the pain.

His mind was blank.

Tears slipped from his wide, terrified eyes.

No one believed him.

No one could see the truth.

He could already feel the man’s heavy footsteps approaching. He could hear the fake sobs getting closer and closer.

His small body trembled.