Apocalypse: I Raised the Ultimate Antagonist from Scratch

The air inside the residential suite was thick with the suffocating scent of spilled chemicals and absolute terror.

Lu Ning crouched near the wall, her hands bound tightly behind her back in heavy steel suppression cuffs. Tears streamed down her pale, drawn face as she looked up at her brother, her voice breaking into hysterical, desperate sobs.

"Brother! Please... please help me!" Lu Ning begged, her knees shaking against the floor. "I was confused! Yang Jun talked me into it! He manipulated me! You’re my brother—you can’t let them kill me!"

Lu Feng stood motionless before her, his frame rigid, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles in his cheek twitched violently. He didn’t reach out to her. He didn’t look into her pleading eyes.

The raw heartbreak on his face had hardened into a cold, hollow mask of absolute disappointment.

"You targeted a five-year-old child, Lu Ning," Lu Feng said, his voice terrifyingly quiet and devoid of warmth. "You brought toxic chemicals into the quaters to poison a boy who never did you any harm. You cut your own ties with me the moment you opened that vial."

Han Zheng stepped forward, his tall frame looming over the scene like an untouchable mountain. His dark eyes swept over Lu Ning before resting on Lu Feng’s stoic, grieving posture.

"Lu Feng," Han Zheng spoke, his deep voice carrying a quiet, heavy authority that filled the room. "you have served this base with unwavering loyalty, Captain. Out of direct consideration for you, your sister’s life will be spared."

Lu Feng’s eyes snapped up, a flicker of profound, quiet emotion passing over his features.

"She will not be executed," Han Zheng stated firmly. "She will be placed under permanent, lifetime isolation in the sub-level containment cells. Her security clearance is completely revoked, her privileges are stripped, and she will never see the upper decks of this facility again."

Lu Feng swallowed the painful lump in his throat and bowed his head deeply. "Thank you, Commander. Your mercy is far greater than she deserves."

"Take her away," Guo Jiong ordered coldly, gesturing to two heavy depot guards waiting at the door.

Lu Ning shrieked as the guards hoisted her up by her arms, dragging her backward out into the hallway. Her frantic screams echoed down the quiet corridor until the heavy doors sealed shut, cutting off her voice completely.

Down on the lowest mechanical sub-level, the ambient temperature was hovering just above freezing.

Yang Jun stood near the primary diesel generators, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes nervously scanning the overhead digital clock mounted on the concrete wall.

5:45 AM.

’It should be done by now’, Yang Jun thought, his heart hammering against his ribs in a wild, frantic rhythm. ’The poison should be in the boy’s system. Lu Ning should have left the empty vial in Lin Qing’s room. The alarms ought to be sounding any minute...’

CLANG—!

A violent, metallic thud echoed through the lower bay, followed by the heavy groan of doors sliding into place.

Yang Jun snapped his head around. The primary doors at the far end of the bay slammed shut, locking with a series of sharp deadbolts.

Simultaneously, the bright overhead fluorescent lights flickered, switching off completely and leaving the room bathed in the harsh, emergency red glare of the containment grid.

"What... what is this?" Yang Jun rasped, his voice trembling as he backed up against a steel fuel drum.

From the dark secondary catwalk, heavy boots echoed rhythmically against the metal steps.

Han Zheng descended the iron staircase first, flanked by Lin Qing, Guo Jiong, and six heavily armed guards with assault rifles raised and locked onto Yang Jun’s chest.

Yang Jun’s breath caught in his throat. His blood turned to pure ice as his eyes landed on Han Zheng’s stone-cold expression.

Han Zheng didn’t say a word. He walked slowly to the center of the damp room, pulling a chair out from the workbench and stepping up to the heavy iron table between them.

Reaching into his inner tactical coat pocket, Han Zheng casually withdrew a thick, leather-bound journal and tossed it onto the steel tabletop.

THUD.

The dark leather cover of Yang Jun’s diary rested under the harsh red light.

Yang Jun’s mind went completely blank. The floor beneath his feet seemed to sway as a dizzying surge of panic hit him like a physical blow.

"Recognize this, Yang Jun?" Han Zheng asked, his voice low, deep, and smooth.

Yang Jun forced his trembling hands into his pockets, his teeth grinding together as he forced his facial muscles into a mask of desperate, stubborn confusion. "I... I don’t know what that is, Commander. It’s just an old notebook."

"It’s your diary," Lin Qing spoke up, her voice calm, clear, and unyielding as she stepped beside Han Zheng. "And inside it, you wrote extensive entries detailing your intense hatred for the world, driven by the death of a sister who never existed."

Yang Jun’s jaw clenched so hard a sharp pain shot up his temple. He sneered, refusing to break. "That’s a lie! Someone planted that! That isn’t my handwriting! You’re setting me up!"

"We don’t need to rely on the diary alone," Guo Jiong growled, stepping forward with a handheld tablet. He flipped the screen around, displaying high-definition video footage. "At 00:48 last night, you went into Lu Ning’s quarters. We have full audio and visual records of you convincing her to poison Han Ye to frame Miss Lin Qing."

Yang Jun glared at the screen, his pupils dilating in sheer, hopeless panic. But instead of breaking down or begging for mercy, his neurotic paranoia mutated into a dark, vicious defiance. He threw his head back and let out a harsh, barking laugh.

"That video is fabricated!" Yang Jun shouted, his raspy voice bouncing off the concrete walls. "You people are all in on it together! You wanted an excuse to get rid of me! I never spoke to Lu Ning about any poison! I never plotted against the Commander’s son!"

Han Zheng’s eyes narrowed into terrifying, lethal slits. "And what about Lin Qing’s accident on the ridge?"

"I DIDN’T DO IT!" Yang Jun screamed, his eyes bloodshot, his face twisting into an ugly, furious scowl as he pointed a trembling finger at Lin Qing.

"I had nothing to do with her fall! She slipped because she’s incompetent! You want to pin everything on me because you need a scapegoat! Go ahead! Lock me up! Execute me! But I will never confess to your pathetic, fabricated charges!"

Lin Qing watched him closely, her eyes observing every frantic twitch of his body, every desperate shift in his posture. She didn’t see a calculating, mastermind saboteur standing before her—she saw an utterly unhinged, deeply paranoid man clinging stubbornly to a delusional reality.

Han Zheng didn’t waste another second arguing. He raised his hand, gesturing to the guards.

"Strip him of his gear and march him down to the lower containment block," Han Zheng ordered coldly. "Lock him in one of the rooms. Right beside Lin Tao."

"You’re making a mistake!" Yang Jun screamed, thrashing wildly as the armed guards grabbed his arms, kicking his legs as they forced him to the ground and slapped heavy iron cuffs onto his wrists. "You can’t prove anything! You’re all doomed! This base is going to fall!"

The guards dragged the screaming, cursing man out of the mechanical bay, his hysterical shouts fading down the dark corridor until the heavy steel doors closed once more.

An hour later, the early morning sun began to cast a pale, cold grey light through the high windows of the primary command office.

The room was quiet. Han Zheng stood near the main map, holding a cup of hot coffee, while Lin Qing sat at the central wooden desk, the dark leather diary lying open before her.

She slowly flipped through the handwritten pages. Her slender fingers traced the sharp, angry scrawls of ink detailing bitter rants, conversations, and intense, venomous hatred.

"His official pre-apocalypse roster file is completely clear," Han Zheng said softly, turning to look at her. "Lu Feng checked his family registry twice. Yang Jun was an only child. His parents died in the early days of the breakout. He never had a sister."

Lin Qing stared at the pages, her eyes filled with a quiet, profound curiosity. "He genuinely believes she existed. He didn’t write these entries to trick anyone—this was his private journal."

"The man is completely delusional," Han Zheng noted, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "His mind snapped somewhere during the initial fall of the cities, and perhaps he projected his trauma onto you."

"Why me?" Lin Qing asked softly, looking up from the desk.

Han Zheng paused, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Before the ridge accident, you two didn’t have much interaction."

Lin Qing leaned back in her chair, a subtle realization settling deep within her mind. She looked down at her own hands—hands that could instinctively handle high-grade satellite consoles, execute flawless extractions, and fight with razor-sharp reflexes, despite having zero official military record before the apocalypse.

"A man who didn’t know me harbored a fatal obsession with me..." Lin Qing murmured, her voice dropping into an intense, quiet whisper. "And I possess high-level skills that don’t belong to a simple civilian."

She closed the leather diary with a quiet snap, her dark eyes gleaming with sharp, unwavering resolve.

"I want to interrogate him personally," Lin Qing said, looking straight at Han Zheng. "Not today—let him rot in that dark cell for a few days until his paranoia completely hollows him out. But when he’s ready to talk, I want to know where he first saw my face."

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