Since the meteor strike, Earth's ecosystem had undergone cataclysmic transformation. Nowhere remained truly safe—not on land, not in the oceans.

  In the Gobi wasteland, a ragged procession trudged beneath the merciless sun. They belonged to no settlement, carried no formidable weapons. They were the weakest of humanity's survivors.

  Yet even they clung to one dream: Hope City.

  Legends spoke of Hope City as a place where survivors still enjoyed the comforts of pre-apocalypse civilization. The New Humans gathered there, or so the stories claimed, and within its walls, safety was absolute.

  "Hold on," the middle-aged leader called out, his voice hoarse with effort. "Through the desert lies the rainforest. Hope City waits there."

  No one had strength to answer. Heads bowed, they simply endured. The leader understood; he lowered his own gaze and pressed forward.

  A scream tore through the silence behind them. "Help! Please!"

  A man's leg had sunk into the cracked earth. The others veered away, instinct overriding conscience. The victim looked down in horror to find his foot already vanishing into the maw of a mutated worm.

  They watched him dragged underground, a bitter pang of recognition passing through the group—there but for the grace of God. Yet they knew the worms' terror too well. No one possessed the courage to intervene. And each understood: had they been the ones seized, no hand would reach for them either.

  "Keep moving," the leader murmured, and walked on.

  They followed in silence. People like them died badly; only Hope City offered any other fate.

  Soon after, another fell—seized by a crab-thing disguised as stone. They abandoned him too and continued their march.

  The Gobi offered clear sightlines, but the mutated creatures excelled at camouflage and ambush. Their numbers dwindled from thirty to three. The rest fed the desert.

  At last, the survivors emerged. They froze, eyes widening at the sight before them.

  From the rainforest rose a colossal stone mountain, its slopes crowded with magnificent structures. Along cliffside staircases, ant-like figures moved with purpose.

  "Hope City," the sturdiest of the three breathed. "It's real."

  The others trembled, rapture and disbelief warring on their gaunt faces.

  "I regret to inform you," a voice interrupted, "that you lack the qualifications for entry."

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  A pale, scholarly man emerged from the trees, his tone carrying clinical detachment.

  "Why?" the sturdy survivor demanded. "They say Hope City welcomes all who survive."

  "So it does. Unfortunately, you failed the examination." The man shrugged, an eloquent gesture of helplessness.

  The three exchanged glances, suspicion crystallizing. What examination?

  "Don't trouble yourselves," the man continued, studying them with dispassionate interest. "The first trial tested endurance. Surviving the Gobi qualifies you there."

  "Then why reject us?" cried the third, little more than skin stretched over bone.

  The man ignored him. "The second trial concerned cooperation. We cleared the truly dangerous mutations from your route long ago. What remained were manageable threats, each with exploitable vulnerabilities. Even unenhanced humans could defeat them, given proper tactics. Yet you watched your companions die and did nothing. You failed."

  Shame flickered through them. They had witnessed the devouring and done nothing. But the creatures had seemed so powerful, so invincible—

  "The third trial assesses intellect, perception, and adaptability," the man pressed on. "Your performance in the second trial reveals not merely selfishness, but stupidity. The weaknesses were obvious. You never observed. You never thought. Thus, you fail again."

  "Obvious?" The sturdy survivor's voice cracked with desperate defiance. "Show us, then. Prove these weaknesses exist."

  "Very well. Conviction through demonstration."

  The man clapped. From the rainforest, attendants wheeled massive glass enclosures into view—each containing creatures from the Gobi passage.

  "First, your 'mutated worms.' They are not worms. The Gobi Deathworms, properly identified. Furthermore, you faced only larvae. Though they possess dual cranial structures, they harbor a critical vulnerability: two sensory nodes concealed beneath their oral cavities. These organs are extraordinarily sensitive. Minimal trauma forces them to release and retreat."

  He retrieved a wooden rod, opened the nearest enclosure, and prodded the creature. The Deathworm immediately coiled into defensive paralysis.

  The man discarded the rod. "Only larvae display this vulnerability. Upon maturation, those same organs generate lethal electrical discharge. Your technique would prove fatal against adults."

  The survivors stared, slack-jawed. The monsters that had devoured their companions—defeated by two precise strikes to black spots they had never noticed.

  "Now. The mutated desert crabs." The man moved to the next enclosure. "Their carapaces weigh enormously. Locomotion is consequently slow. Their vulnerability lies posteriorly."

  He rotated the tank, indicating the creature's rear. "The anal orifice. You carried pine resin. A flanking attack exploiting this weakness would have succeeded trivially."

  Silence. The "invincible" crabs—undone by striking from behind. How had they missed it?

  The man proceeded through each species they had encountered, dismantling their terror with systematic precision. With every revelation, the survivors understood: their companions had died needlessly.

  "Conclusion of briefing. Regrettably, no candidates pass this cycle."

  He turned to depart.

  "Your examination?" the sturdy survivor shouted. "Your authority? Who proves you speak for Hope City?"

  The man laughed, not breaking stride. "Believe as you wish."

  The earth convulsed.

  They watched, paralyzed, as the stone mountain stirred. The mountain rose—revealing itself as living flesh, not geology. The summit they had mistaken for terrain was merely the creature's cranium. As it achieved full height, it towered over a kilometer into the sky, eclipsing the sun. Its flanks supported countless dwellings, an ecosystem of human habitation integrated into titanic biology.

  This was Hope City entire.