From the looks of it, the people here had not all died in the apocalypse. It felt more like they had packed up their belongings and moved away. Natalie finally relaxed a little. "Do you think they all moved to an official base?" Three years into the apocalypse, the population had dropped to less than one-tenth of what it used to be. A normal-sized official base could easily take in all the survivors of an entire city. Cassian nodded. "That's possible. Let's keep driving and see." They got back into the vehicle. They had entered the city from the south and drove north, passing the bridge district, the industrial zone, and the eastern neighborhoods. Every area looked the same—empty and silent. It wasn't until they reached Peacehaven that they finally saw signs of people. To be exact, it wasn't just signs. It was a crowd. A huge one. Cassian pulled the car over to the side of the road. Natalie stayed in the seat and looked ahead. Not far away stood a white chapel. People were coming in from every direction. They smiled, nodded politely at one another, and then walked inside in small groups. The scene was almost too peaceful. From inside the hall came the sound of a choir, singing together. "When I was lost in despair, you sent down gentle light. "You showed me the way so I would not lose my path. "When the world fell into sin, "You looked at me with mercy and soothed my pain."Repent, repent, "And never stray again..." Natalie frowned. Goosebumps crawled back over her skin. A pure white chapel. Kind, smiling believers. Soft, flowing music. It was a beautiful scene. But right now, it felt deeply unsettling. Faith itself was not a bad thing. But during these years of apocalypse, Natalie had seen too much. She had seen lifelong vegetarians fight like animals over a piece of rotten meat. She had seen people who donated to charity every year beat others bloody over a loaf of bread. Those who tried to save everyone were mocked as fools. People like her—who protected only themselves—were called clear-headed. It was as if throwing away kindness had become the bare minimum for surviving the apocalypse. When staying alive already took everything a person had, who still had the energy to restrain themselves, pray, or care for the soul? And yet, in a world this cruel, there were still people holding services, singing praises, and worshiping together? Cassian looked just as surprised. "A utopia in the apocalypse?" Natalie shook her head. "People in a utopia live in peace because they avoided war. This disaster is the apocalypse. There's nowhere to hide from it. How could anyone escape?" As she spoke, her brow tightened. Could it be that the local authorities had some special method? Something that truly protected the people here from the apocalypse? She shook her head again. No way. No matter how fast technology developed, it still had limits. Even the climate suit Natalie had was still in the testing phase. It hadn't reached mass production yet. To truly fight the apocalypse, they would need to give everyone a storage-space artifact like hers, plus a climax suit, and then open the warehouses and hand out food freely. Otherwise, even the authorities had no real way to protect everyone. Cassian repeated the same line as always. "When something feels wrong, it usually is." He took one last look at the believers hurrying along the street, then started the vehicle. "Let's avoid them." Natalie nodded. "Yeah. Let's go." As the car pulled away, a few people who were about to enter the chapel noticed them. It was as if their luxury armored car—clearly expensive and packed with supplies—was worthless, while the chapel itself held endless riches. They only glanced at the vehicle before turning back toward the door. Through the rearview mirror, Natalie watched the white building slowly fade into the distance. She felt an uneasy sense she couldn't quite explain. Those people had looked at her Knight XV without desire, greed, or hunger. All she saw in their eyes was calm. And a strange gentleness. Not being targeted was a good thing. Still, she had grown used to the way people stared at her, with envy, hunger, and bad intentions. This armored vehicle looked like a tank. Even before the apocalypse, driving it down a normal street would make people stop and stare. In the apocalypse, it clearly showed power—fuel, supplies, and the ability to survive. That was exactly why she and Cassian chose this vehicle instead of a low-key Ford Transit. When doing business, you had to dress the part. Showing strength was part of the deal. This was the first time their powerful Knight XV had been completely ignored. Even Natalie herself had stared twice when she first caught a glimpse of it on a winding mountain road. When she met it again on the rooftop later, she didn't hesitate at all before pulling it into her storage space. So who were these people? How could they feel no desire for the fuel and survival resources this vehicle clearly represented? Cassian glanced at her, then freed one arm and squeezed her hand. "Don't worry. We'll leave as soon as we buy the submarine." Natalie squeezed back. "I'm not worried," she said. "I just can't believe it."