He was right, and everyone knew it. The undead were changing. In less than a month, normal walkers had turned into P1 brutes, S1 speedsters, and even Hunters. He had seen it with his own eyes—the grotesque evolution of death in Perfection.
If even one zombie in the sea of a hundred thousand developed intelligence, the ability to command, or mastery over some twisted form of Spirit or Luck—then they would all be wiped out. Their stronger bodies would simply rise as new stronger abominations.
Ethan's mind worked faster than anyone else's. He saw the danger not in today, but in tomorrow, in the next week. And he wasn't going to wait for death to find them.
Besides, there was the mission—the "Searching for Novice Village." The rewards promised were too great, too tempting. If he could claim them before anyone else, it could change many things.
And so, his course was set.
He would kill the Hunters. Then he would leave Jiang City.
Luke, a man of few words whose face was as unreadable as stone, finally broke his silence. His voice was calm yet heavy with conviction.
"I agree with Ethan. We're surrounded by zombies. For now, this place is safe enough, but once intelligent ones emerge… we'll be the first to be hunted down. They'll never forgive us for killing their kind so aggressively."
His blunt words carried a chilling weight. Everyone knew he was right.
Grace frowned, her brow creasing as she turned her gaze toward Ethan. For all her elegance, in that moment her beauty carried a hard edge—like a queen forced to consider sacrifice for survival. After a long breath she finally said, "Alright, Ethan. Tell me your plan."
---
The heavy Volvo truck rumbled toward Jiang Bridge, its steel frame groaning under the weight of containers and survivors alike. The roar of the engine echoed through the empty streets like a war drum, drawing the attention of monsters lurking in the dark.
From the shadows of the bridge, two Hunters emerged. They didn't simply walk—they launched forward with explosive power, like starving cheetahs scenting prey. Their speed and hunger carried a terrifying intensity.
William's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as he reversed sharply, the massive truck swaying under his control.
Ethan sat quietly in the back, his eyes sharp, his mind working faster than the wheels spinning beneath them. He studied the Hunters' movements, noting every detail. Unlike ordinary zombies, these creatures weren't reckless. They rushed forward nearly five hundred meters, but then pulled back, retreating to the bridge as though under strict orders.
Guarding. Waiting. Intelligent.
Ethan's jaw tightened. The Hunters valued holding the bridge more than chasing prey. That knowledge was both terrifying and valuable.
"Go back!" Ethan barked suddenly, his voice cutting like a blade through the silence.
William obeyed instantly, grinding the gear and pushing the truck forward again.
As the Volvo thundered toward Jiang Bridge once more, the Hunters exploded into motion, closing the distance in a blur of claws and muscle.
"Reverse!" Ethan commanded again, calm yet fierce.
The plan was already in motion. Grace and Luke didn't hesitate. They dragged the heavy containers of gasoline and diesel to the rear, their faces slick with sweat, their movements frantic yet precise. Julia and Luna, their long hair sticking to their flushed faces, squeezed in beside them, hurling glass bottles filled with fuel onto the road. Their elegance—beauty wrapped in exhaustion, courage cloaked in grime—burned even brighter against the backdrop of despair.
The smell of gasoline filled the air, harsh and suffocating. The road glistened with liquid death.
The Volvo screeched backward again, baiting the Hunters closer. This time Ethan leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. They had to get dangerously close. He could feel the weight of his companions' trust pressing on his shoulders.
Two hundred meters. Close enough.
With steady hands, Ethan lit a crude torch fashioned from cloth and wood, sparks crackling in his eyes. He hurled it onto the road.
The world ignited.
The flames raced across the gasoline like a living serpent, curling and spreading until they swallowed the road whole. The two Hunters, drenched in fuel, were consumed by roaring fire.
A deafening BOOM followed as one of the bottles exploded, sending a column of black smoke spiraling into the sky. The heat scorched their skin even from inside the truck.
"Are they… are they dead?" Grace's voice was almost a whisper, as though afraid the monsters might hear her plea. Her flawless face, usually so composed, was pale with hope and fear tangled together.
But then the flames screamed.
Through the inferno, two blackened figures burst forth, their bodies aflame, their stench of burning flesh and gasoline spreading into the night. Their screeches were no longer animalistic—they were furious, aware.
"They didn't die?!" Julia gasped, her wide eyes reflecting the fire. Her voice cracked, disbelief turning to horror. For a fleeting moment she looked like a terrified child, her gorgeous features twisted with fear.
Humans, she thought bitterly, would have been nothing but ash in such flames. But these were not human.
William cursed under his breath, stomping the pedal and sending the Volvo lurching forward again.
"Luna!" Ethan's sharp voice cut through the chaos. "Your skill—go for the head!"
Luna's hands trembled, but she nodded, her lips moving instinctively. She began chanting in a language alien to her, a mantra that rolled from her tongue like the voice of another world. Her voice was soft yet urgent, weaving a strange melody that seemed to warp the very air around her.
Seconds crawled by like hours. Then a ball of crimson flame crackled into existence at her fingertips.
The fireball streaked forward faster than the eye could follow. One Hunter dodged at the last moment, but not fast enough. The fireball tore into its shoulder with the force of a cannon.
The explosion echoed like thunder. Flesh and bone scattered, the Hunter's right arm torn clean off, its body staggering but still alive.
"Such power…" Ethan muttered, a flicker of awe breaking through his focus. Luna's magic was devastating—like a rocket strike—but the toll was clear. Sweat drenched her face, her chest heaved, and her knees trembled as though the strength had been ripped from her bones.
She could not cast many more.
"Stop the truck!" Ethan roared.
William slammed on the brakes. The massive vehicle screeched, tires smoking.
The moment it halted, Ethan, Grace, and Luke leapt down, Type 79 submachine guns gripped tight in their hands. The cold steel of the weapons was their only comfort in this nightmare.
The Hunters charged. Forty meters. Thirty.
Bang! Bang! Bang!...
The three opened fire, the submachine guns roaring in unison. The air filled with the acrid tang of gunpowder, shell casings raining to the ground like metallic hail. Bullets tore through undead flesh, ripping holes and splattering blood, but still the monsters came, their bodies riddled with gore yet refusing to fall.
Their screams shook the night, a reminder that these creatures were no longer the mindless dead—they were predators, cunning and cruel.
And humanity? Humanity was fragile, desperate, trapped in its own nightmare.
Ethan knew that here, at this bridge, survival demanded not hope but blood.
The Hunters moved like living blurs of muscle and malice. Their speed was terrifying—faster than even the dreaded S1 Speed-types. Bullets whizzed through the air in panicked bursts as Ethan, Grace, and Luke fired wildly, but none of them were trained marksmen. Their submachine guns spat lead with ferocity, but accuracy was another matter.
The Hunters twisted and flashed across the battlefield, their bodies blurring like shadows flickering in firelight. Several rounds clipped their sides, tearing off bits of flesh, but most bullets missed as the monsters darted forward with inhuman agility.
Then, in the blink of an eye, one of them was in front of Ethan. Its claw, jagged like a butcher's cleaver, slashed out toward his chest, aiming to rip him open.
But Ethan was faster.
"Shadow Step!"
The skill surged through him like a tidal wave. His body became weightless, his movements sharper, faster—every tendon and muscle straining to match the speed of the Hunter. In that fleeting instant, he moved like a phantom, dodging to the side with such speed he left a streak in the air.
The Stinger Pistol gleamed cold in his hand. It was no ordinary firearm—sleek, silvery, almost alien in design. The barrel hummed faintly with a power far beyond standard weapons. Ethan raised it with icy precision and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The gun's roar echoed like thunder. The round tore through the Hunter's shoulder with devastating force, obliterating flesh and bone in a red mist. The creature's entire arm was shredded, its body hurled backward by the impact. If not for its last-moment twist, its head would've been blown apart.
But Hunters weren't just fast—they were cunning.
As the beast sailed through the air, it opened its gaping maw. From its throat shot a long tongue, sharp as a spear, glistening with saliva, hurtling straight for Ethan's skull.
A flash of movement—Spawn.
The skeletal warrior stepped forward without hesitation, intercepting the strike. The Hunter's tongue punched clean through Spawn's ribcage, impaling him. The creature tried to reel Ethan in, but Spawn held firm, his bones grinding as he locked onto the tongue.
Grace moved in that same moment. Her long hair streamed behind her like silk in the wind as she activated her skills. Her Straightblade shimmered with a ghostly blue aura, glowing brighter as Sharpness Enhancement wrapped around it. High Speed Movement propelled her forward, her gorgeous figure a deadly blur.
With precision honed from years of martial discipline, she slashed down at the Hunter's leg.
The monster shrieked, swinging its tail mid-air like a mace toward her head. One hit would crush her skull like glass.