Calling it the "Secret Web" might sound overly sophisticated, but in reality, it was what people commonly referred to as the Deep Web—the submerged part of the iceberg, where the darkest and most fascinating corners of humanity are concealed. The Deep Web didn't simply emerge; it was constructed by genius minds and sustained by gargantuan cash flows from underground organizations, and even governments themselves.
This virtual world was divided into several layers, and the deeper one descended, the danger and security protocols increased exponentially.
The Surface Level consisted of standard websites accessible to anyone via Google or Facebook. Level One was the "Surface Web," including forums that were slightly more liberated and chaotic, such as Reddit.
From Level Two onward, things began to get complex. This was the "Unacknowledged Web," the final frontier accessible by standard browsers but usually requiring proxies or specific hardware modifications. Here, the hidden websites began to reveal their outlines.
Level Three—the "Hidden Web"—was a sanctuary for the criminal elite. Accessing this layer mandated the use of Tor or specialized anonymous browsers. This was home to the most horrific content: from depraved pornography and snuff films to high-level hacker syndicates.
But Level Four was where Thien Anh truly belonged. Within the underworld, it was affectionately known as "The Dark World Behind the Peace." In this layer, the boundaries between morality and crime vanished entirely. Everything was a commodity: narcotics, heavy ordinance, human organs, and lives themselves.
Thien Anh, operating under the codename "Ice Frog," was a seasoned veteran of this layer. He was intimately familiar with brokering intel or accepting contracts through complex encrypted strings. Previously, every login required dozens of firewalls and meticulous anonymization. But today, Thien Anh accessed the site directly through the bunker's real IP address.
He was no longer afraid of being tracked. In the middle of this apocalypse, finding someone amidst a sea of snow and mutant hordes was harder than finding a needle in a galactic void. Furthermore, he was curious to see if anyone possessed the audacity to pay him a "visit."
The moment he logged into the organization's hidden node, his inbox began flashing incessantly. A message blinked on the screen:
Shadow Devotee: "Well, well, Ice Frog. Haven't seen you in a dog's age. I assumed you'd ended up in some monster's gullet. Turns out you're still drawing breath?"
Thien Anh's lips curled into a thin smirk. This "Shadow Devotee" was an old acquaintance—an exceptional sniper who had coordinated with Thien Anh on several high-profile contracts. Thien Anh privately admitted his long-range skills couldn't match the man's, but if he could close the distance to within ten meters, he could neutralize the sniper in two moves.
Thien Anh's fingers flew across the keys, his reply transmitting instantly:
"I'm alive and kicking. What about you? What corner of the world are you currently rotting in?"
Shadow Devotee: "Trapped in the city of BuHaMaD. Wait, Ice Frog, did you just log in without masking your data? That's remarkably reckless, even for you."
Thien Anh: "Why bother masking? At this point, I'm just hoping someone has the skill to come here and play; it'd kill the boredom. Plus, they'd make decent bait for the mutant beasts. I'm currently in Noi Ha, Linh Nam. How's your situation? Stable?"
Shadow Devotee: "Stable as a house of cards. The plague is rampant, and the military is utterly toothless. My area is crawling with mutant beasts—worse than a locust swarm. Every time I go out to hunt, it's like walking through death's door..."
The conversation between the two assassins amidst the end of the world carried a hint of dark humor, but it also unveiled a crushing reality: the world outside was collapsing faster than anyone could have dared to imagine.