"Dean Yan, the entire hospital is swarming with zombies! You'll die if you go out there!" A young doctor in a bloodstained lab coat blocked the elderly man's path, voice trembling.
"Get out of my way! That's my son down there!" Dean Yan snarled, brandishing a cane, "Fire you? I'll do worse if you stop me!"
A baby's wail cut through the argument—Mrs. Qi, cradling a months-old infant, her face pale as the hospital's tiled floors.
"Enough!" boomed Qi Tiexin, rising from his corner, SVD rifle in hand. At 1.9 meters, his uniform strained over a physique honed by years as a D-rank physical enhancer, "Yan, you'll get yourself killed. And us with you."
The dean froze, staring at the zombie horde through the window—thousands of rotting figures, drawn by the scent of life.
"Helicopters!" someone shouted, "The Federation's here!"
A formation of gunships hovered overhead, searchlights sweeping the chaos. Hope flickered in hollow eyes; even Dean Yan staggered to his feet, cane raised in a shaky salute.
"Saved… at last—"
His words choked as the barricaded door splintered. A zombie's clawed hand shot through, grabbing his throat, bone crunching under rotting fingers. Qi fired, blood spraying the wall, but the dean was already dead, eyes wide with disbelief.
"To the roof!" Qi shoved aside the corpse, "Move! Now!"
The young doctor bolted for the stairs, cowardice overriding oath. Mrs. Qi hesitated, infant in arms; Sun Qi clung to her side, silent as a ghost.
"Go," Qi urged, pressing a pistol into her hand, "I'll cover you."
But as he turned, a figure emerged from the shadows—pale skin, scarlet eyes, a grin that chilled the soul.
Him.
Time slowed. Lu Qiu raised a hand, and behind him, a tide of zombies surged forward, growls shaking the walls.
"RUN!" Qi roared, matching Lu Qiu's motion with a desperate command, "UP THE STAIRS—NOW!"
Mrs. Qi stumbled, but Sun Qi grabbed her arm, dragging her toward the stairs. Qi lingered, pulling the pin on a grenade, and hurled it into the horde.
BOOM!
Flames and shrapnel tore through the corridor, zombies disintegrating in a shower of gore. Lu Qiu retreated, impressed—so the human had teeth.
"Fight all you want," Lu Qiu murmured, stepping over twitching corpses, "Despair tastes sweeter when mixed with hope."
On the stairs, Qi caught up to his wife at the sixth floor, her breath ragged, face drenched in sweat. The baby fussed, unaware of the horror below.
"Rui'er…" Qi hesitated, "I need you to go ahead. I'll draw them away."
"No! You'll die—"
"Not if I do this right." He forced a smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Our son needs a name. I'll be there to choose it with you."
Tears blurred her vision, but she nodded, clutching the infant tighter. Qi lingered, watching her climb higher, then turned, SVD ready, a grenade in each hand.
"Come on, monsters," he whispered, loading a fresh clip, "Let's see if you can keep up with a cop."
The first wave hit the fifth floor—twisted, snarling forms, drawn by his scent. Qi fired, headshots dropping three in an instant, then ran, luring them upward with deliberate stumbles, grenade explosions echoing like thunder.
At the fourth-floor landing, he paused, pressing a hand to the badge on his chest—New Chinese Federation Police, D-Rank Enhancer, now streaked with blood. He tore it off, letting it fall.
"No more rules," he muttered, "Just survival."
The zombies came on, relentless. Qi met them with a roar, swinging the rifle like a club, stock cracking skulls, before switching to his last grenade.
This is for you, son, he thought, pulling the pin, Grow up in a world where monsters fear the light.
The blast swallowed him whole, along with a dozen zombies, their screams drowned in fire. Above, Mrs. Qi reached the roof, rescue helicopter descending, blades whipping her hair into a storm.
She didn't look back. Couldn't. But in her arms, the infant slept, unaware that his father had become a myth—the man who held the stairs, the last line between life and oblivion.
And below, Lu Qiu paused at the blast site, eyeing the smoking ruins. Qi Tiexin, he noted, a worthy prey. But all humans were worthy in their final moments—when despair curdled into defiance, their fear spicing their blood like fine wine.
"Fight, scream, hope," he said, licking a drop of Qi's blood from the floor, "It all feeds the same hunger."
Somewhere, a helicopter departed, carrying the last survivors. But Lu Qiu smiled—they'd carry the virus with them, a gift to the world beyond.
The final stand was over. The real end was just beginning.