Her playful expression lingered only a moment before her gaze turned strangely serious. Her lips parted, and in the quiet of the room, she whispered: "Then… I'll be your girlfriend. Okay?"
The words hung heavy in the air.
Ethan turned to her, his eyes narrowing. For the first time that evening, he really looked at her.
Her long hair was tied into a simple ponytail, falling over one shoulder like ink over silk. She had the toned, healthy body of someone who loved exercise, her wheat-colored skin glowing faintly under the dim light. The white T-shirt she wore hugged her youthful figure, revealing the shape of a modest but alluring chest—small, firm, full of promise. Her delicate face, with its bright eyes and playful smile, seemed impossibly young and yet far too beautiful for the world they now lived in.
The air thickened again, the weight of her words settling between them like a trap.
And Ethan, scarred and weary, could only stare at her, caught between the lines of survival, temptation, and the brutal honesty he had sworn to live by.
Ethan carefully studied Julia, not just as the mischievous "little witch" who had always hovered around him in the past, but as a young woman stepping into a perilous new world. His heart stirred in ways he wasn't entirely ready to admit. Before this apocalypse, he had seen her only as a sister-like presence—annoying at times, clever beyond her age, yet innocent. Now, in this collapsing society where death walked outside every door, the lines between childishness and womanhood blurred cruelly fast.
Julia leaned slightly forward, her delicate features glowing faintly in the lamplight. Her long lashes trembled, and her soft cheeks burned crimson. Her clear, bright eyes locked onto his, unwavering. "Your answer?" she pressed, voice carrying both nervousness and courage. "If you are a man, then seriously answer me."
Ethan leaned back against the pillow, his ribs still aching with every small shift. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, and his right arm throbbed purple-black from the Hunter's brutal strength. He let out a long exhale, buying himself a moment. Then, with a half-weary, half-ironic smile, he muttered, "Come on, Julia. I'm not some hormone-driven kid falling for 'man up' speeches. It's not that simple. And if I call you my girlfriend right now, doesn't that make me a criminal?"
Julia blinked, then let out a light laugh. It was a shaky, nervous laugh, but genuine. "Big brother Ethan, how can it be a crime? I'm sixteen now—I'll be seventeen in a few months. In Japan, girls can marry at sixteen. Even in other countries, there are places where no one would care. But look around you—" she gestured at the shattered walls, the broken furniture beyond the window, the smell of disinfectant and blood lingering in the air—"the world isn't what it used to be. Laws are just scraps of paper rotting in the wind. No one is coming to judge us. Even if we go ten thousand steps back into the old world, if I'm willing, if I choose this, then no one has the right to call it a crime."
Her voice cracked slightly near the end, revealing the vulnerability buried under her confident tone. She was forcing maturity onto herself, wrapping it like armor around her trembling heart.
Ethan's brow furrowed. For a moment, he hesitated. He wasn't sure if what he felt was affection, pity, or something heavier. He thought of how she clung to him when he bled, her wide eyes red with fear, her trembling hands desperately channeling healing magic to keep him alive. She was a child who had lost her parents, her home, her very sense of safety. What was left for her to hold onto but him?
Julia quickly filled the silence by scooping a spoonful of rice, pushing it gently into his mouth before he could argue further. She forced a bright smile. "If you don't answer, then I'll take your silence as an agreement. So eat quickly before dinner gets cold."
Her stubbornness made his chest ache more than his wounds. She was trembling inside, he knew it. She had always been clever, mischievous, and surprisingly bold—but this was different. She wasn't really after romance. She was terrified. She knew she wasn't his family, not really. She knew other girls in the group were older, more mature, and some far more beautiful than her. Yet in this world where death was one mistake away, she clung to the only man who had kept her alive. She had nothing else to give but herself.
Ethan chewed slowly, lowering his gaze. He wasn't fooled. He saw straight through her façade. 'She's trying to anchor herself with me,' he thought. A desperate girl who's lost everything, offering herself because she thinks it's the only way she won't be abandoned. If I push her away, I'll only wound her more. If I accept, even if it's just in name, at least it'll give her something to hold onto in this collapsing world.
And so, he let her have her way. Not because he desired her, but because he understood her. Because he had the heart to carry her burden for now.
---
The following day, the aftermath of their battle with the Hunters weighed heavily on the group. Ethan, Grace, and Luke—their frontline fighters—were all heavily injured. Julia tirelessly spent her restored MP to channel Minor Injury Healing again and again, carefully mending their battered bodies. Without her, they would have rotted slowly from wounds and infection.
The atmosphere in the house was suffocating. The others dared not venture out. William, though he had managed to reach level three, still lacked courage. He cleaned his rifle obsessively, but his hands shook every time the moan of a zombie drifted in from the street. The rest of the girls avoided even looking out the windows, afraid of what lay beyond the shadows.
The depression was thick, a haze that choked them all. The world order had only collapsed a handful of days ago, yet the human spirit was already fraying. Without Ethan standing strong, none of them had the will to step outside.
Ethan, lying weakly on the bed, summoned Spawn with a low rasp: "Spawn... grab my bag."
The skeletal servant moved instantly. The soul-flames flickered in its hollow eye sockets, and it lifted the heavy backpack as if it weighed nothing. The sound of its bones clattering echoed faintly in the silent house. The others instinctively shivered.
Julia sat at Ethan's side, her eyes fixed on him like a loyal shadow. She quickly opened the bag when he gestured. Inside lay their greatest prize—two skill books, shimmering faintly, and several rare treasure chests dropped by the Hunters.
Ethan's left hand trembled as he drew the books out. His chest ached, his lungs burning with every shallow breath. Yet even in his weakened state, his mind remained sharp. He weighed their value, their danger, and how best to distribute power. In this new world, skills weren't just strength—they were survival, authority, and the difference between becoming predator or prey.
Julia's gaze lingered on him, her lips pressed tight. She knew the truth now: only the strong could protect others. She was a fragile lamp in a slaughterhouse of monsters, and only Ethan's shadow shielded her from the abyss.
Her thoughts were chaotic, a mess of fear, jealousy, and desperate longing. There are other girls here—Grace, Luna, even Daisy. They're older, prettier, and more capable. If I don't hold on to him, if I don't make myself indispensable, I'll be nothing but a burden to be left behind...
Her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms as she thought, He may not love me, but if I can stay close, even in name only, then I'll survive. And maybe... just maybe... he'll see me someday.
Ethan, watching her from the corner of his eye, sighed inwardly. Little witch... I know every thought racing through your head. And yet... if this is the only way for you to keep your heart together, then I'll let you win this round.
His thoughts shifted to the first skill book.
[[Sharpness Enhancement – Level 3]
Type: Active
Effect:
Infuses any held weapon—or even mundane objects—with concentrated energy, drastically amplifying its edge and destructive force. While empowered, enhanced tools slice with supernatural precision, capable of cleaving through steel and stone as if they were paper. The potency of this enhancement scales directly with the wielder's physical strength. In the hands of a true powerhouse, even a leaf or blade of grass can be turned into a weapon of terrifying lethality.
Activation Cost:
2 Spirit
2 Stamina
Sustain Cost:
1 MP + 1 Stamina per 10 seconds
Scaling Effect:
The enhancement's power is directly proportional to the user's physical strength. At ten times the average human physique, even a blade of grass, when enhanced, can cut through steel like butter.
Duration:
Sustains as long as the user maintains the energy flow. Excessive strain risks severe fatigue or backlash.
Cooldown:
None – limited only by resource control.
Description:
A revered combat enchantment known to turn ordinary fighters into living legends. Sharpness Enhancement does not simply refine a blade—it transforms the act of wielding into pure destruction. Ancient records tell of warriors splitting boulders with wooden staffs or severing armored foes with strands of grass. But such feats demand discipline, stamina, and unshakable focus; for those who cannot master the balance, the very power they channel may shatter their bodies before the enemy falls.]
[[Body Enhancement – Level 3]
Type: Passive
Effect:
Fortifies the user's physique by embedding condensed warrior essence into flesh and bone. This enhancement permanently increases base attributes, making the body stronger, tougher, and more resilient in every battle.
Bonus Stats:
+5 Strength
+3 Vitality
Class Synergy:
When transferred into a Warrior or any Warrior-related job class, this skill evolves further. Each time the class advances (Warrior → Knight, Berserker, Guardian, etc.), the user permanently gains:
+5 Strength
+3 Vitality
Activation Cost:
None
Sustain Cost:
None
Duration:
Permanent
Special Trait – Martial Growth:
This skill scales indefinitely with class progression, ensuring the user's body keeps pace with their evolution. The deeper one walks the warrior's path, the greater the physical might this passive awakens.
Description:
A cornerstone of martial cultivation, Body Enhancement serves as the foundation of countless legends. By weaving strength into muscle and resilience into marrow, the skill ensures the user grows into an unshakable combatant. Those who master it are said to turn their very bodies into living weapons—unyielding under siege and unmatched in raw physical dominance. It is the first true step on the path of warriors destined to conquer.]
"You are not stuck with a single class… classes could be developed, evolved."
That thought surged through Ethan's mind the moment his eyes skimmed over the glowing words of the skill description. His heartbeat quickened, and despite the dull ache in his chest and the searing pain of his broken arm, a sharp glint of hunger flickered in his gaze.
Before him lay two level 3 skills—rare beyond measure in this newborn apocalypse. His fingers trembled slightly as he touched the book, feeling the faint pulse of power radiating from them. Each skill was a treasure that could decide the fate of their group, perhaps even shift the balance of life and death for everyone sheltering under this fragile roof.
Both are incredibly powerful, Ethan thought, narrowing his eyes. Either one could reshape me entirely. But Body Enhancement…
The lines describing the skill burned in his mind. Body Enhancement was not just a temporary boost—it promised permanent growth. Each time his class evolved, more stat points would flow into him. It was not a dead-end skill, but a foundation stone—an investment into potential.
It meant none of them were locked into the fragile shells of their beginner classes. No one was doomed to remain weak forever. The path ahead wasn't a dead end, but a staircase that stretched into the unknown, waiting to be climbed.
His lips pressed into a tight line. "This… this changes everything."
He looked again at the stat implications. Spirit raised the potency of magic, vitality accelerated recovery and resilience. In theory, those should have been priorities. But Ethan's mind was too sharp, too cold for illusions. He remembered every fight, every close call. The truth was brutal: Spirit and vitality meant nothing if he was already dead. One scratch from a zombie, and infection would end him no matter how resilient his flesh was.
That was why he had poured everything into stamina, agility, and strength. Those three were his pillars—stamina to outlast the endless hordes, agility to evade claws and fangs, strength to crush and kill before he was overwhelmed. Without them, all the Spirit and vitality in the world wouldn't save him.
Still, the promise of Body Enhancement made his pulse race. It wasn't just strength for today—it was hope for tomorrow.
Ethan didn't learn the skills immediately. His instincts screamed caution. Once learned, there was no turning back. He had seen too much to waste such treasures without careful thought. Instead, he reached into the heavy backpack Spawn had faithfully guarded for him and pulled out two shimmering blue treasure boxes.
The room seemed to hold its breath. Julia's large, beautiful eyes followed his every move. Her fingers clenched around the blanket, her knuckles pale.
Blue treasure boxes. The mark of something far greater than the white junk dropped by ordinary zombies. Ethan had only ever seen them fall from P1 zombies, S1 variants, and the more terrifying evolved types. Each box was a promise of the extraordinary, stained in the blood of the monsters they had barely survived.
Ethan opened the first. A brilliant blue light burst forth, filling the dim room with a glow that cast sharp shadows against the cracked walls. As the light condensed, it formed into a solid object that dropped heavily into Ethan's lap with a metallic thud.
A revolver.
Not a flimsy pistol, but a weapon with presence—its thick barrel gleamed with a silvery sheen, the craftsmanship exquisite even in this ruined age. Three chambers, built for power, not speed. This was no toy; this was a beast that promised devastation with every shot.
Ethan's breath caught as his fingers curled around the grip. Cold, solid steel pressed against his palm, reassuring and deadly. He could feel the balance, the weight, the promise of recoil that would snap through his arm with every trigger pull.
[[Level 3: Stinger Pistol]]
Type: Advanced Firearm
Caliber: 17.5 mm
Ammo Capacity: 3 Rounds
Effect:
A next-generation sidearm designed to maximize lethality in a compact frame. Its unique engineering places it nearly two decades ahead of conventional weaponry, making it capable of piercing through hardened flesh, mutated hides, and light armor with ease. Each shot carries devastating stopping power, able to put down heavily armored enemies or mid-level infected in a single well-placed round.
Special Traits:
Stinger Round Generation: Automatically synthesizes 1 Stinger Bullet every 24 hours using built-in nano-systems. These specialized rounds are designed for extreme penetration and efficient damage.
Armor Penetration: Superior—capable of piercing reinforced plating and mutated exoskeletons.
Stopping Power: Effective against targets up to Level 25, ensuring lethal precision in critical encounters.
Limitations:
High Recoil: Requires a minimum of 12 Strength to wield safely. Users below this threshold risk reduced accuracy, rapid fatigue, or potential self-injury.
Limited Ammo Capacity: Chamber holds only 3 shots—strategic conservation is essential.
Description:
A technological anomaly within the apocalypse, the Stinger Pistol stands as a relic of a future that never came. Sleek in design but devastating in function, it has been theorized to originate from an alternate timeline or higher intervention. The weapon's self-sustaining ammunition system ensures it never fully runs dry, though its slow generation rate demands careful planning in prolonged engagements.
Feared by mutants and coveted by survivors, the Stinger Pistol represents more than firepower—it is a symbol of dominance in a world that has long since fallen. In the right hands, it can turn the tide of any battle, but in the wrong ones, its wasted shots can spell certain doom.
Durability: 100/100
Sell Value: 7000 Survival Coins]
"Magnificent," Ethan muttered, turning the Stinger Pistol over in his hands. The weapon radiated a mechanical elegance so far beyond anything of this age it felt almost alien.
For comparison, he thought of the world's mightiest conventional handgun: Smith & Wesson's M500 Magnum revolver—a brute of a weapon with a caliber of 12.7 mm, infamous for bringing down lions and tigers with a single well-placed shot. Hunters and marksmen alike hailed it as the "king of handguns."
But this Stinger… this was something else entirely. Its 17.5 mm caliber ammunition bordered on artillery grade. To call it a pistol was almost a mockery—it was more like condensed battlefield ordnance shaped into a sidearm. Its destructive potential was difficult to even fathom.
Seventeen-point-five millimeters… nearly brushing the threshold of autocannon fire. A normal human would snap their wrist, maybe even shatter their arm, just from the recoil. This weapon wasn't made for ordinary hands.
[T/N: The smallest artillery caliber is 20mm, so 17.5mm is pretty powerful for a pistol. I doubt normal people can handle the recoil. It would break your arm.]
A thrill coursed through Ethan as he realized the kind of battlefield dominance this gun represented. With such a tool, a single shot wasn't merely lethal—it was decisive.
Unable to restrain his excitement, Ethan reached for another treasure box. The moment his fingers brushed the surface, azure light burst forth, dazzling and alive, coalescing into a new form. When the glow dimmed, a ring rested in his palm—a band of blue metal traced with ancient runes, each engraving humming faintly as though whispering secrets of forgotten ages.
[[Level 3: Thorn Ring]]
Type: Mystical Accessory
Effect:
When equipped, this ancient ring channels arcane vitality into its bearer, amplifying spiritual power and fortifying the user's bond with nature's wrath. Grants +6 Spirit passively, enhancing magical potency and energy recovery.
Special Trait – Supplementary Skill: Thorn
The wearer may summon a colossal thorn, rising up to 3 meters high, erupting from the ground to pierce enemies within a 50-meter radius. The strike is instantaneous, capable of skewering multiple foes or pinning down swift targets.
Cooldown: 24 Hours
Targeting: Direct and precise; excels at crowd control and eliminating evasive enemies.
Limitation:
Can only summon one thorn per activation. The ground must be natural earth or weakened stone—useless on reinforced steel flooring or magically sealed terrain.
Description:
Forged from an ancient covenant between druids and the wild, the Thorn Ring is a relic infused with primal essence. It embodies nature's cruel defense: beauty laced with deadly purpose. Survivors who wield it find themselves not just fighting the infected, but commanding the land itself to strike in their stead.
Legends claim it was worn by forest guardians who defended sacred groves during the first calamities, its thorns splitting the earth and skewering entire warbands. To this day, few relics carry such terrifying, natural authority—those who underestimate it are often left impaled as grim reminders of its might.
Compatibility:
Can be equipped by any class, its effect scaling with Spirit.
Durability: 100/100
Sell Value: 3500 Survival Coins]
The two blue treasure boxes Ethan had opened earlier had already yielded treasures beyond expectation. But the remaining six white treasure boxes still awaited their fate.
He cracked each one open, one after another. Four yielded nothing but cold emptiness—stinging reminders of how merciless this world had become. Yet from the last two boxes, gleams of steel caught the light. Two Straightblades, their edges fine and lethal, rested in his hands.
"Jul, wear this ring and heal me." Ethan's voice was calm but firm as he handed the Thorn Ring to Julia.
Julia's lips curved into a small, fragile smile. "This is my engagement ring, right? Hee hee…" She giggled softly, though the sound was forced, like a child trying to hide fear with play. She slipped the ring onto her slender right ring finger, her gaze tracing the intricate runes that shimmered faintly against the metal. The Thorn Ring was exquisite, a piece of jewelry that looked like it belonged in a noblewoman's collection, not the bloodstained hands of a girl trapped in the apocalypse.
Ethan gave a wry smile, shaking his head slightly. "I'll let you wear it temporarily. Once I'm fully healed, I'll need it in battle."
The Thorn Ring was no trinket—it bore a supplementary skill with destructive power so sharp it could decide life and death in the right hands. As the main fighting force of the group, Ethan couldn't afford to part with such a treasure for long.
"Cheapskate," Julia pouted softly, but instead of sulking, she clasped his injured right hand between both of hers. White light glowed as her healing skill activated, bathing his broken flesh in warmth.
Ethan felt the sharp ache of bone knitting together, the swelling subsiding bit by bit. He watched her face—the way she bit her lower lip in concentration, the way her eyes watered slightly with every pulse of light. For the first time in days, he felt something other than pain—a quiet warmth, fragile but undeniable.
---
But Minor Healing wasn't a miracle. The spell couldn't erase suffering outright.
Five days passed. Ethan's arm healed, but the fractured ribs still burned with every breath.
Julia sat quietly as the items were passed out, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She smiled faintly whenever Ethan's eyes brushed hers, but inside, her thoughts were a storm.
Her parents were gone, torn apart in the first days of chaos. The world she had known—the warmth of family dinners, the silly arguments, the comfort of being someone's daughter—was nothing but ashes now. She had nothing left but Ethan.
And she knew… she wasn't his family. Not really. She was just a girl clinging to the last pillar standing in a world of rot. Around Ethan gathered girls who were more beautiful than her, stronger, more alluring, some of them already circling him like moths to a flame. What did she have to offer him? Nothing but herself.
If I can't be his family, then… maybe I can be something else. Maybe then he won't leave me behind.
Her fingers brushed the Thorn Ring on her hand, and she smiled to herself. A fake engagement. A child's fantasy. But if pretending meant she could stay by his side, she would pretend forever.
Ethan, watching her out of the corner of his eye, understood every thought in her head. He wasn't blind to her desperation, her unstable emotions, the way she latched onto him like a drowning soul clings to driftwood. But he didn't push her away. Not because he wanted her in that way, but because denying her would only break her further.
So he went along with it. Silently. Without protest. Without encouragement either. Neutrality was its own kind of mercy.
He tightened his grip on the Stinger Pistol and looked at the others. In this world, only strength could shield the fragile things worth protecting. And Julia—whatever she was to him—was fragile.
And for that reason alone, he would keep her safe.
---
12 Days After the Collapse of Order
Under Julia's unrelenting treatment, the trio had finally recovered. Grace's bruises had faded, Ethan's ribs were mended, and even Luke was back on his feet.
Gathered around the makeshift table, Ethan spread out the treasures before them. His voice carried the weight of command as he addressed Grace.
"These are the items dropped from the two Hunter-types. This Level 3 Sharpness Enhancement skill book—I think it suits you best, Grace. A Straightblade and two hundred Survival Coins are also yours. The rest will go to Luke and me. Do you have any objections?"
Loot distribution—nothing destroyed teams faster than greed. Even though Ethan's contribution had outweighed the others, he divided fairly. He knew fairness was the glue that held fragile alliances together.
Grace's delicate fingers brushed over the Sharpness Enhancement skill book. Her pale skin glowed against the dark leather binding. She looked breathtaking in the dim candlelight, her beauty sharper than any blade, her presence commanding attention without effort. She gave a small, approving nod.
"No objection." Her voice was smooth, confident, her emerald eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. She wasn't blind—Ethan had chosen the perfect skill for her. With this, her combat power would grow to terrifying heights. She admired the way Ethan led, always precise, always calculating.
Ethan turned to Luke next. "Luke, this Thorn Ring, a Straightblade, and two hundred Survival Coins are yours. I'll take the Body Enhancement skill and the Stinger Pistol."
The Stinger Pistol gleamed as he lifted it, its sleek silver barrel reflecting the candlelight. A revolver, brutal in design, its three chambers promised devastation with each pull of the trigger. Yet Ethan knew its recoil was monstrous. Only someone with his raw strength could wield it without breaking their own wrist.