Global Awakening: Apocalypse Ender's Chronicle Chapter 1106: The Previous Experiments and the Rats!

While Alexander fixated on the enigmatic rat that had breached their sanctuary, a jubilant mood washed over the Alchemy Lab. Upon hearing of the 300% permanent amplification, the other alchemists crowded around, their eyes wide with profound reverence.

This tonic was an absolute game-changer.

High-grade potions were nothing new to them, but this was unprecedented.

In truth, they had long attempted to utilize the Tyrant Zombie’s mutation strain to engineer their own variant of Super Soldiers.

Everyone within the shelter was well aware that Shane had already perfected three iterations of his Super Soldier Serum, each one proving more potent, stable, and terrifying than the predecessor.

Reports had confirmed that these warriors were capable of battling for days without respite, shrugging off injuries that would cripple common men, and unleashing power that rivaled the highest-level Survivors.

Facing such adversaries consistently left the Phoenix Phalanx and other elite clans at a distinct disadvantage.

It was for this reason that Alexander had ordered his alchemists to experiment with mutation strains harvested from the most lethal zombies they could secure. If Shane held the monopoly on Super Soldiers, the Phoenix Phalanx would forge their own.

Regrettably, the journey was littered with failed attempts.

Their initial trial involved the Tyrant Zombie, a towering monstrosity defined by its immense brute strength. The alchemists extracted its mutation strain, nursing hopes of imbuing it into human hosts.

Early results appeared promising; subjects attained remarkable muscle mass, heightened aggression, and near-total pain resistance.

However, the strain proved fundamentally unstable. Within hours, the subjects were stripped of rational thought, their physical forms buckling under the radical changes until they morphed into hideous abominations. They became uncontrollable, unleashing carnage upon friend and foe alike.

These failed subjects were subsequently chained to the walls of Ghoul Shelter. Fortunately, a handler existed who could somewhat restrain them, allowing them to serve as a makeshift defense line.

Regardless, the supply continued as they acquired more slaves from Neutral Shelters or rival Clans.

These unfortunate captives were forced into the trials to facilitate further experimentation.

It remained a grueling process, as most continued to devolve into Zombies or mindless husks. The alchemists kept them breathing only to harvest samples, though each one stood as a haunting reminder of their incompetence.

Naturally, their efforts were not confined solely to the Tyrant Strain.

They tested the Hunter Zombie, renowned for its speed and agility. When injected, the results seemed successful at first—at least for a three-day window.

The subjects exhibited increased velocity and heightened senses, but the mutation harbored a fatal flaw. No matter one's constitution, the nervous system would inevitably fail after three days.

Seizures would then seize the subjects, their bodies convulsing beyond control. Some literally tore their own muscle tissue apart in spasms, while others collapsed, lifelessly inert upon the floor.

The strain accelerated speed but obliterated the brain, rendering them combat-ineffectual.

"I have actually done it!" Maximillian exhaled, slumping into his chair to gather his thoughts.

He immediately began cataloging the exact formula, desperate to ensure the discovery was preserved.

After all, they would need to replicate these potions from this point forward. In fact, he felt compelled to attempt further refinements if the opportunity arose.

His gaze drifted toward the tower of documents cluttering his desk.

Every sheet recorded the successes and failures he had encountered alongside his fellow Alchemists.

He reflected on his attempts with the Brawler Zombie’s mutation strain, notorious for its raw force and berserker rage.

The alchemists had speculated this strain could craft warriors who knew no fear.

When injected, subjects did indeed gain immense power, their musculature expanding as their endurance soared.

The critical failure, however, was that their rage became uncontrollable.

They attacked indiscriminately, incapable of discerning friend from foe. During one catastrophic trial, a group of Brawler-infused subjects slaughtered half of a Phoenix Phalanx squad before they could be put down. The strain amplified might but erased all discipline, transforming their soldiers into dangerous liabilities.

For now, those casualties remained imprisoned. Though they were effectively eliminated, they were kept in hopes of stumbling upon a solution.

Maximillian paused to think. Those individuals were undeniably powerful; they simply lacked control. Perhaps this Dragon Blood could clarify their clouded minds.

Furthermore, three other subjects were currently detained in one of their abandoned mines.

They were the lucky recipients of the Giant Zombie strain.

Unfortunately, they were equally uncontrollable.

While their massive size and durability made them ideal candidates for unstoppable vanguards, their transformation was incomplete. Yet, they had managed to survive to this day.

The initial subjects had failed quickly, collapsing under their own density. Some suffocated as their lungs failed to expand, while others suffered total organ failure when their hearts could no longer sustain their bloated forms.

However, the three survivors had truly become Giants, with their only complications being hearing loss and foggy vision—making communication near impossible.

While Alexander possessed a method to control them, it was merely short-term, and their erratic behavior posed as much risk to their own ranks as it did to the enemy.

Lastly, they experimented with the Screamer Zombie, capable of shattering defenses with sonic shrieks.

These subjects were now relegated to the Outposts surrounding the shelter, functioning solely as an Alarm System.

They had once been human, but their insatiable hunger meant they were now useful only as glorified alarms.

Regardless, those days were in the past.

Every failure had served as a necessary lesson.

Though nearly every attempt resulted in disaster, dead soldiers, and wasted resources, they refused to surrender.

This was why Alexander had turned to Roan, a living dragon capable of accelerating their research. Its blood carried potency beyond mortal limits and promised far superior results.

Alexander and his Alchemists shared the belief that by harvesting Roan, they could bypass the mutations' failures and forge something transcendent—not mere unstable monsters, but true super-soldiers imbued with draconic essence.

"With this... I should easily be able to request at least 10 Instant Experience Potions, shouldn't I?" Maximillian muttered, already mentally calculating the rewards he could demand for this feat.

As he reclined in his chair, contemplating what to ask for next, a sudden flicker of movement caught his eye. A small shadow darted across the floor. A rat.

At first, he brushed it off. Ghoul Shelter was situated deep within the forest, and pests were an inevitability.

Yet, something about its movement felt wrong. It wasn't just foraging for scraps; it moved with intent, navigating the corridors as if it knew its destination.

Before he could overthink it, the facility's intercom crackled to life, and Alexander's voice boomed through every hall, chamber, and corner of Ghoul Shelter.

"Attention! Kill all rats within the shelter. Cease your work immediately. Search every room and corridor. Do not allow a single one to escape."

The order left everyone stunned. A heavy silence descended upon the laboratory, quickly replaced by visible hesitation. They were busy experts, and chasing vermin felt beneath their high-level status; such tasks were for laborers, not alchemists.

Even so, their leader's command could not be ignored.

Alchemists exchanged puzzled looks, unable to fathom why critical tasks would be halted for rodents. Kitchen staff stood frozen, ladles dripping stew back into pots, while guards looked around in confusion, unwilling to voice their dissent.

Finally, a junior alchemist named Nanran spoke up. "Did... did he say rats? We are supposed to pause our brewing to hunt rodents?"

Celeste, another alchemist, frowned as she set down her pestle. "It is bizarre. But if Alexander orders it, we must comply."

Reluctantly, they began overturning crates, yanking open drawers, and peeking under tables. The excitement of their breakthrough gave way to awkward grumbling.

In the kitchen, a weary worker named Marila sighed as she hoisted sacks of grain. "We are barely feeding thirty people on scraps, and now we must waste time playing exterminator? What is next—hunting cockroaches?"

Her companion, Joren, chuckled nervously. "Maybe the rats stole the formula files. We better check the stew pot." He poked at the liquid with a ladle, earning a sharp glare from Marila.

Within the barracks, Prim, a soldier busy polishing his rifle, groaned. "We are supposed to be fighting Shane, not vermin. But fine, let's hunt them." He flipped his cot, startling his bunkmate, who muttered under his breath.

Even the gate guards joined the fray, sweeping their torches across the shadows, stomping into corners, and cursing whenever a rat bolted past their boots.

The most peculiar scene unfolded within the laboratory itself.

Maximillian, still clutching his notes, watched as his colleagues crawled under benches and hoisted cauldrons.

Leonidas, the chief alchemist, muttered with rising irritation. "We are on the cusp of true greatness, and we are forced to chase vermin. Alexander better have a damn good reason for this!"

Just as he finished the sentence, a rat leapt onto his face and slashed at him.

"Aahhh! Shit! Kill them all!"