Buzz… buzz…
The drone's rotors spun into a furious whir, the sound sharp and insectile, like the wings of a giant fly.
Lucas Kane steadied the controls, fingers adjusting as the drone wobbled erratically in midair for a few moments. Then, with a twitch of the stick, it locked into balance and shot straight toward Sunhaven University.
On the control screen, the cityscape rolled past beneath him. Just like yesterday, the zombies were as dense as a flood, packed across avenues, the sports field, and the small campus park. By contrast, the teaching blocks and dormitories seemed oddly empty—almost devoid of movement.
The diary's notes were true, then.
When the outbreak hit, the university had already emptied for summer break. The zombies below weren't students at all—they were ordinary citizens and soldiers who had been torn down at the perimeter, now filling the campus grounds in an endless tide.
As the drone zipped forward, countless corpses snapped their heads up, pale hands clawing skyward, shrieking at the buzzing machine. Even through the screen, Lucas imagined he could smell the stench rising like heat from their bodies.
A clicking sound.
One of the Creepers vaulted into view, leaping effortlessly onto the shoulders of the mass below. It skittered grotesquely across heads and backs, grinning up at the drone with unnatural curiosity.
"Disgusting." Lucas muttered, and pushed the stick.
The drone veered ahead, circling over the sports field. Then he saw it—the bunker entrance.
It was hidden beneath the flagpole.
The blast doors had been smashed open. Beside the dais, slumped awkwardly like a wounded giant, was a four-meter armored exosuit. Its cockpit glass was shattered into jagged shards. The concrete beneath was smeared with dried blood.
"A combat frame?" Lucas breathed.
He nosed the drone closer. Four mechanical arms jutted from the torso. The upper pair gripped a two-meter-long energy rifle, while the lower pair split into a gleaming alloy blade and a heavy tower shield. Missile pods clung to its shoulders; a compact rocket pack jutted from its back.
It wasn't a true mech—but it was close enough.
For zombies, this thing was a nightmare. If he could get it running… there wouldn't be a corpse tide in the world that could stop him.
"Men dream of machines like this," he whispered, eyes narrowing. "A weapon made to carve straight through hell."
He pulled the drone higher, scanning another quadrant of the campus.
That was when the golden light struck him.
A massive Level-3 Supply Crate, big as a van, shone like a treasure chest from myth. Around it swarmed dozens of Creepers and several swollen, grotesque Venom Bloodmother, their bodies quivering with toxic sacs. No wonder they were clustered here—higher-grade crates drew the strongest mutated dead like moths to flame.
The air bucked suddenly.
Wind sheared across the screen. The drone trembled, skidding. Then the camera filled with shadow.
A figure, colossal.
Four meters tall, at least. Bald scalp gleaming, skin a dark slate, every inch of it corded with bulging veins. The proportions were still human—but magnified, swollen, warped into something obscene.
And no fabric in the world could cover it.
The grotesque titan moved unclothed, heedless of shame, its bulk a brutal affront. Lucas winced, feeling as if even looking at it cost him points of sanity.
Mutant Zombie: Juggernaut
Strength: Extreme
Speed: Extreme
Reflex: Extreme
Resilience: Extreme
The Juggernaut roared. Its massive frame bent and launched, rising impossibly high.
One hand slammed down.
The drone shattered instantly. The feed spasmed into fragments—sky, pavement, the last flicker of a guard booth—before dissolving into static snow.
So Zhao Xiyue had been right. There was another guard station on the far side of campus. Judging by her view of the Creepers and the crate, she had to be holed up there.
Lucas exhaled, the pieces clicking together. He knew her location.
Now came the real question: how to seize the armored frame, break the corpse tide, and claim that crate before someone else made a move.
He unrolled the Sunhaven University campus map, sketching out the zombie distribution from memory. Thousands. Maybe tens of thousands.
If he tried to lure them away in batches with sound, he'd be here for days.
Too long.
The longer he waited, the more likely some other survivor would claim that gleaming box of salvation.
His eyes sharpened. A solution sparked.
He jumped from the bus roof, boots slamming pavement, and began clearing the road.
With his strength now, shoving aside a one-ton sedan felt like lugging a water cooler—awkward, but easy. He heaved car after car into the gutters, rolled vans into doorways, muscled a clear artery wide enough for two lines of traffic.
When the corridor finally stretched unbroken toward the university gate, he nodded once. Perfect.
Time for the hammer.
He reached into storage.
A heavy truck slammed into reality, its reinforced frame glinting under the sun.
Lucas climbed in.
The instant his fingers touched the wheel, a tide of certainty washed over him. Driving Mastery—the gift he had earned—snapped into place. He didn't need practice. His body simply knew.
Ignition.
The truck coughed, roared, then steadied into a hungry growl.
He pushed the throttle.
The vehicle surged forward, hitting sixty miles per hour in seconds. At the junction, Lucas flicked the wheel. The rear swung wide like a steel pendulum, tires gouging long black arcs across the asphalt.
Power. Speed. Precision.
Lucas grinned, sharp and fierce.
And drove his war-beast straight at Sunhaven University.