Japan, an island nation infamous for its staggering population density, squeezes nearly 130 million souls onto a landmass barely exceeding 300,000 square kilometers.
Kurumazu City, while fictional, draws its inspiration from Fukuoka – Japan's sixth-largest metropolis. Its imagined urban core packs over 4,500 people into every single square kilometer. Numbers alone might not resonate, so consider this contrast: Shanghai, China, averages a comparatively 'sparse' 3,814 people per square kilometer. This stark comparison highlights the terrifying density of Kurumazu City.
The Thanatos Virus erupted across the Eastern Hemisphere during broad daylight – peak activity hours. Consequently, Kurumazu's downtown succumbed almost entirely within a handful of hours. Office towers, subway tunnels, shopping malls, schools… these densely packed hubs became Ground Zero. Only a tiny fraction, like the protagonist Takashi Komuro and his group in the source material, managed to fight their way out. A grim estimate suggested at least 90% of the urban populace transformed into shambling undead.
Rokuro sat within the armored cockpit of his eight-wheeled all-terrain vehicle (ATV), navigating upstream along the Kurumazu River. The panoramic view unfolding before him was pure apocalyptic devastation. Countless undead, drawn by the ATV's roaring engine, tumbled down the embankment slopes. They clustered ravenously along the river's edge, unable to pursue further, filling the air with a chorus of frustrated, guttural snarls directed towards the vehicle drifting in the river's center.
"Nightshade, status report? Any contacts?" The comm crackled with Temptress's voice. Like clockwork, she repeated the query every ten to fifteen minutes. "Same as before. The welcoming committee's still enthusiastically escorting us along the riverbank. Starting to feel like I'm channeling the Great General of the Universe, Kim Il-sung, on parade..." Rokuro quipped dryly. "Glad you're alright. Water route was smart. Shame the river's flow direction doesn't allow us to simply boat downstream to the objective." "True. The System's designs are rarely watertight, but it seldom leaves glaring loopholes like that unplugged. Actually, your comment just made me think—"
His words cut off abruptly. Darkness swallowed him. Consciousness vanished.
When awareness slammed back, it was to the frantic sound of Temptress's voice crackling over the comm: "Nightshade?! Nightshade, are you there?! Nightshade, respond!"
What just happened? Rokuro remained perfectly still, slumped in his seat. Carefully, he typed a message into the public text channel: Temptress, did something happen just now? "Oh! You are alive! You scared the hell out of me! You just went silent mid-sentence. All I heard was the engine and water." How long? he texted back. "Maybe ten, fifteen seconds? Not long, but long enough."
Cold dread washed over Rokuro. Instinctively, his hand flew to his head. His fingers came away slick and crimson. Blood. I died? Just now? A silent curse echoed in his mind. Holy shit. Driving and chatting one second, then… headshot? Out of nowhere. If not for his trump card – the Ghoul Bloodline – he'd have died a clueless fool.
Must have been a glitch with the drone's comm module. Rebooting it now. It was a flimsy excuse, but he terminated the voice link with Temptress before she could respond. No time for explanations.
There's an enemy out there. No doubt. The critical question burned: How did they kill me?
Until he figured that out, movement was suicide. He stayed utterly motionless, slumped in the driver's seat, letting the engine-dead ATV drift sluggishly downstream with the current.
Temptress said he'd gone silent suddenly, but she'd still heard the engine and the water. A crucial detail: She didn't mention hearing a gunshot. That ruled out a conventional sniper rifle.
Keeping his head low, Rokuro meticulously searched around his seat. His fingers probed the seam between cushion and backrest, finally closing on a slender, hard object wedged deep within. He pried it free.
It wasn't a bullet. Instead, it was a conical shard of bone, roughly the thickness of his little finger, coated in drying blood. Examination revealed it was incomplete; a significant segment near the base was missing. The break was unnaturally clean, almost polished to a mirror-smooth finish. A side effect of the resurrection process, he realized. Anything embedded in him during death was 'erased' by the regenerative rules, cleanly severing the protruding part.
"Not a bone arrow…" Rokuro muttered, brow furrowed. That single word difference – arrow versus shard (or spike) – implied vastly different origins.
A bone arrow meant an archer. A player. Another human (or humanoid) pulling the trigger. A bone spike pointed towards necromancy, specific monstrous mutations, or unique supernatural abilities. Given the power level constraints of players in this instance, the former possibilities seemed improbable. The conclusion was unavoidable: a monster capable of launching bone projectiles lurked nearby.
Bossified Hirano Kota!
The image of the bespectacled, perpetually grinning otaku materialized instantly in Rokuro's mind. The deduction clicked instantly.
With the target identified, Rokuro swiftly adjusted the camera feed from his overhead reconnaissance drone. Using the angle of impact from the bone spike and the direction his body had fallen, he initiated a meticulous sweep of the Kurumazu River's southern bank.
Bingo. Exactly two blocks inland from the riverbank, atop a five-story apartment building, the drone's high-resolution lens captured… something. A massive, amorphous black mass. It resembled the prototypical fantasy cannon fodder creature – a Slime – but grotesquely oversized. It inched across the rooftop at a lethargic, almost ponderous pace.
This… is Bossified Hirano Kota? The design is… aggressively unconventional. His thought carried a hint of grim fascination.
THOP-THOP-THOP-THOP!
The unpleasant, rhythmic thumping of rotor blades grew rapidly louder. A light helicopter emblazoned with the Kurumazu City Television logo skimmed low over the ATV. Through the bulbous glass canopy, Rokuro could make out the figures of several individuals dressed as station personnel.
Simultaneously, the black Slime on the rooftop underwent a horrifying transformation. Its flattened form violently convulsed and inflated. Its back arched grotesquely upwards, erupting in a dense cluster of bulbous protrusions. It now resembled nothing so much as a gargantuan, pustule-covered toad squatting on the concrete.
Without warning, the tops of the protrusions ruptured.
CRACK!
Hundreds of yards away, the helicopter's canopy instantly spider-webbed with fractures. Splatters of crimson bloomed across the starred glass. The aircraft lurched violently, then began an uncontrolled, spinning descent. It smashed through the glass facade of a towering office building and vanished into the structure's core. A split second later, a fireball erupted from the impact point, consuming the wreckage.