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.
"Okay," Luke said without hesitation.
After handing out Grace's share, then Luke's, and even slipping William his own Straightblade, Ethan felt the weight of a dozen eyes burning into him. The girls who had received nothing looked at him with barely concealed envy. They weren't greedy—not entirely—but when food, safety, and weapons meant life itself, every glimmer of steel or coin turned into temptation. Ethan inhaled slowly, steadying his mind, then exhaled as he addressed them.
"Luke, Grace, William, Luna, Julia… the six of us will go clear the zombies on Xing Ning Road."
The statement was simple, but it fell like thunder in the cramped room.
William stiffened, his fingers tightening on the Straightblade until his knuckles whitened. "Ethan… you still want to provoke those monsters?" His voice cracked, fear and memory entwined. He hadn't forgotten the horror of the Hunters. The grotesque, human-sized beasts with claws like sickles and speed that defied reason. They had nearly wiped the four of them out in a heartbeat.
Grace's beauty, sharpened by exhaustion and hunger, hardened into concern. Her frown deepened, the lines of worry adding an almost regal edge to her features. She spoke firmly: "Ethan, I think we need to raise our level first before challenging those Hunters. Our level is too low. Except for you, none of us can even put up a fight. Even now, with this new skill…" She touched the Weapon Enhancement skill book Ethan had given her, "…in front of a Hunter, I'd still be nothing but prey."
Her words struck true. Grace had seen it—their claws, their unnatural strength. Even armed and leveled, she knew one mistake could mean her throat torn open.
The room fell into silence. Julia shifted uneasily, her wide eyes darting between Ethan and Grace. Her small hands twisted together nervously, yet she said nothing. She had no real argument, no courage to question him aloud—but her fear was written in her trembling lips.
Ethan's gaze swept over them, weighing every face, every hidden thought. He saw William's fear, Grace's pragmatic caution, Luke's restless eagerness, Julia's fragile dependence, and Luna's quiet doubt. He smiled—not mockingly, but with the calm of someone who had already calculated ten steps ahead.
"I know," Ethan began evenly. "This time, we're not going after the Hunters. I only want us to clear Xing Ning Road. The purpose isn't glory—it's leveling. Every zombie we kill increases your chances of surviving the next fight. Jiang Bridge is still guarded by those two Hunters, and I have no plans to test them. Not yet."
Relief visibly swept through the room. The tension eased; shoulders relaxed, lips exhaled, and for the first time in days, someone chuckled nervously. No one opposed the plan now.
But just as Ethan turned toward the truck, a voice broke through the fragile quiet.
"I want to go too! Ethan, take me with you!"
Everyone turned. Sydney's voice was resolute, but her posture betrayed eagerness bordering on desperation. She pushed past the others, her raven hair tied back tightly, her sharp eyes fixed directly on Ethan. There was something striking about her beauty—not soft like Julia's, nor elegant like Grace's, but hardened, mature, sculpted by discipline. A woman who carried herself like a soldier even in civilian clothes.
The group murmured. Julia's lips parted in surprise, Grace raised a brow, Luke's eyes lingered with open curiosity.
Ethan's expression cooled, narrowing slightly as he studied her. "You realize we're heading into a dangerous zone, filled with zombies? We might face things worse than you've ever seen. This isn't a game, Sydney."
Sydney did not flinch. Her eyes—deep, sharp, and unyielding—met his with iron resolve. "Yes, I do. I'm not a child, Ethan. I've seen what the world has become. I know the risks. And I still want to go."
For a moment, Ethan said nothing. He searched her gaze and found it—fear. But it was fear wrapped in defiance, controlled, sharpened into determination. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, calculating.
"This isn't training," Ethan said firmly. "This is life and death. Out there, guns don't give you EXP. Whoever designed this system knew exactly what they were doing and it made sure of that, probably because they knew that if even a tiny percentage of the world's military survived, they could just mow down zombies and grow stronger, nothing would stop them from ruling everything. So close-quarters combat is the only way forward. If you come with us, Sydney, you'll need to rely on blades and your own two hands."
The others stirred. Daisy blinked, eyes widening. "Wait—you knew that, Ethan? Guns don't give EXP?"
The revelation hit them all. Shock rippled silently through the group, but no one spoke. Their gazes sharpened, curiosity gnawing at them, but none dared interrupt Ethan now.
Sydney's lips pressed into a firm line. "I understand," she said calmly. "I'm not asking for protection. Just give me a better weapon, and I'll handle myself. I was a police officer before the collapse. I've had more firearms training than most. My trigger finger won't shake, and my eyes don't miss."
Her words carried authority, confidence that made Luke nod almost immediately. "She's got a point. More hands, more blades—why not? I say we take her."
Murmurs of agreement followed. Julia nodded reluctantly, Luna sighed, and even Grace inclined her head slightly. William only frowned, silent.
But Ethan wasn't convinced. His eyes lingered on Sydney, measuring her not by beauty or words, but by the weight of her soul. "You're confident. But confidence alone doesn't win fights. Tell me, Sydney… why should I risk my team for you?"
The question cut through the air. A few heads turned toward her, curious, even skeptical. Sydney's jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back, she exhaled slowly.
"Because I've fought my whole life," she began. Her voice was steady, but beneath it lay the weight of memory. "I was an orphan. I grew up in the state system—passed around from one broken home to another, where no one cared if I ate, if I slept, or if I bled. I learned early that no one would protect me unless I protected myself. While other kids played, I fought. While others dreamed, I survived. I clawed my way into the academy, and from there, into the force. Every step I took was carved out of stone with my own nails."
Her eyes hardened, but they glistened faintly in the dim light. "When the world fell, everyone lost something. Parents, lovers, children. But me? I had nothing to lose. I only ever had myself. So don't mistake me for some fragile woman who needs to be shielded. I've faced monsters in human skin long before zombies came. Drunks with knives. Dealers with guns. Rapists in alleys. I know fear. And I know how to fight through it."
Silence filled the room. Even Grace's stern features softened slightly. Julia bit her lip, staring, torn between admiration and unease.
Sydney straightened, her beauty sharpened by steel. "You want to know why you should take me, Ethan? Because I won't crumble when the blood sprays. Because my life was built in the cracks of a lawless world long before this one. And because if we are to build anything new—if law and order are to mean anything again—it won't happen if people like me sit behind closed doors waiting for others to bleed in our place."
Her words lingered. They cut deeper than Ethan expected.
Luke was the first to break the silence. "Damn… she's right."
Even William muttered, "She's tougher than she looks."
Ethan remained still, his sharp mind turning her words over. He respected strength—not just of muscle, but of will. Sydney had both. Yet, he couldn't allow sentiment to blind him. He raised his chin, his voice hardening like steel drawn from fire.
"Fine. You can come. But there are conditions."
Sydney's eyes flickered, but she nodded. "Name them."
"You follow my orders. Every one of them. No hesitation, no rebellion. If you break rank, we leave you behind. I won't risk the group for anyone's pride." His gaze burned into hers, then swept across the room, catching each face. "The moment you stop listening, you're dead weight. And I don't carry dead weight."
The room grew heavy with his words. They weren't threats—they were promises. The kind only someone who had already buried too many could make.
Sydney's resolve faltered for the briefest moment, her lips parting slightly—but then she nodded, her voice firm. "Understood. I'll follow your lead."
Ethan leaned back, crossing his arms. He didn't smile. He didn't need to. His eyes, cold and calculating, told the truth: he had accepted her, but he had already prepared himself for the day he might have to cut her down if she faltered.
In the silence that followed, the world outside growled faintly—the distant cries of the dead echoing through ruined streets. The apocalypse had no room for doubt, and neither did Ethan.
The rest of the group exchanged quiet glances, each of them weighing the risks of bringing Sydney along. She was radiant in her own way—her soft features, gentle eyes, and calm strength were things that reminded them of a world that no longer existed. Yet those same qualities were dangerous. Her unwavering moral compass, her instinct to protect and help even strangers, could easily draw disaster down upon them. In a world where hesitation meant death, kindness could be fatal.
But Ethan saw the flicker of resolve in her gaze and knew she wouldn't back down. Despite her fragility, she possessed weapons mastery. No one raised an objection. The silence itself was agreement. They needed her, whether they admitted it or not.
The group piled into the two massive Volvo trucks, their engines coughing to life with guttural roars that reverberated off the crumbling facades of abandoned buildings. The sound was deafening against the eerie quiet of the dead city, like a declaration of defiance hurled into the face of the apocalypse.
Sydney sat quietly in the back seat of the first truck, her hands clasped tightly on her knees, knuckles pale. Julia, sitting beside her, brushed back her silken blonde with deliberate elegance, her beauty like a beacon against the ruin outside. Grace, on the other side, polished her Straightblade with steady precision, her sharp eyes reflecting the cold reality that beauty and grace meant little when a horde of corpses was at your throat.
---
Luna was behind the wheel of the second truck, her brown hair tied back, features taut with focus. Ethan, in the co-driver's seat of the lead truck, scanned the road ahead with sharp eyes that rarely missed details. Two trucks now—two lifelines in this dead world. The decision gave him a sliver of reassurance.
The cityscape outside told the tale of collapse. Once-vibrant shopping streets were now broken husks, storefronts gutted, windows shattered like gaping mouths. Cars were left to rot in the streets, doors ajar, belongings scattered—children's toys, purses, shoes—silent remnants of desperate escapes that never succeeded. The further they drove, the thicker the stench of decay became, clinging to the air, lingering in every breath.
Ethan kept his eyes moving, thoughts racing. Taking Sydney was dangerous. She was brave, but her heart was fragile—her desire to help others could easily put all of them at risk. He respected her strength but knew sentiment in this world was a liability. His quick mind calculated scenarios, already planning contingencies should her compassion lead them into a trap. He couldn't let kindness kill them.
---
They soon rumbled onto Xing Ning Road. The instant the trucks' engines growled through the avenue, the dead stirred.
From alleyways, storefronts, and shattered apartments, zombies emerged. At first, they came in small clusters, then in torrents. Dozens turned into hundreds, stumbling, moaning, filling the road like a sea of rot and hunger. The sound of their guttural cries clawed at the ears, a nightmare chorus echoing through the ruins.
But among them were worse things. Over ten bluish-grey P1 zombies pushed to the front of the horde, their twisted muscles bulging beneath ragged skin, their movements jerky yet horrifyingly fast. They leapt and bounded like grotesque primates, their screeches cutting through the air. Even worse, Ethan's sharp eyes caught the lithe shapes of S1 zombies slinking among the masses, their elongated limbs twitching with predatory anticipation.
"More than ten P1s already? And S1s too?" Ethan's expression darkened, his eyes reflecting the horror of evolution that was unfolding far too fast. "Six days… just six days and they've already become this strong." His gut tightened. Humanity was running out of time.
The horde surged forward like a wave.
"Retreat!" Ethan spoke firmly into the walkie-talkie, his voice unwavering despite the fear gripping his chest.
Luna and William didn't hesitate. Both trucks spun sharply, tires screaming against the cracked asphalt as they tore away from the street. The horde gave chase, a tide of corpses slamming after them. The S1 zombies lunged forward, moving in terrifying bursts of speed. They crashed into abandoned cars, shattered glass under their feet, but even their monstrous agility wasn't enough to match the roaring Volvo engines.
The trucks pulled ahead, finally losing the horde. Silence returned slowly, broken only by heavy breathing and the distant cries of the forsaken dead.
---
On a quieter street, William looked at Ethan nervously. "What do we do now? Where do we go?"
Ethan thought fast. His mind never stopped working, even under pressure. "Luna, drive back. Grace, Julia, and you stay here and guard the trucks. You're our lifeline. Luke and I will scout Xing Ning Road."
Grace frowned, brushing a strand of hair from her flawless cheek, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Just the two of you? That's reckless."
Sydney's voice trembled with worry, though her resolve didn't waver. "It's suicide. Hundreds of them… and those things among them…"
But Ethan's lips curled into a calm, almost reassuring smile. "Don't worry. If it looks bad, we'll fall back immediately. Besides…" He glanced at Spawn, the skeletal summon standing motionless by his side, a macabre sentinel. "…there aren't two of us. There are three."
With that, Ethan, Luke, and Spawn departed.
---
They crept carefully through ruined streets, avoiding major clusters. Here and there, lone zombies wandered, their jaws slack, flesh peeling. Ethan's blade cut them down with clean, efficient strikes, the sound of steel meeting bone echoing sharply. Luke covered him with his Straightblade, every motion precise. Spawn's bony frame moved in eerie silence, its bone weapon crunching skulls with mechanical indifference.
But as they neared Xing Ning Road, the scattered dead thickened into groups. The shuffle of dozens of feet scraped across broken pavement, closing in.
The first wave came from the left—a group of thirteen. Their eyes burned with mindless hunger, jaws snapping as they surged forward. Another thirteen emerged from the right, closing the trap.
Ethan didn't flinch. His quick mind mapped the battlefield in seconds. "Luke, right flank. Spawn, hold left. I'll cut us through the center."
He surged forward. His Straightblade gleamed as it arced through the air.