The walk back to base was slow but mercifully uneventful.
For once, the streets didn't groan. No dragging feet, no broken moans hiding behind corners—only the sound of their boots and the faint clatter of Mike's half-empty bag of noodles.
Ethan kept the jagged half of his axe across his shoulder. Every few steps, he glanced behind, but nothing followed.
"Still clear," he said at last.
Mike gave a weak laugh. "Guess miracles happen."
Nathan hissed when the movement pulled at his ribs. "Feels like every breath's glass. Thought dumping points into Stamina was supposed to fix this."
Ethan shrugged. "Helps you live through it, not erase it."
"Great," Nathan muttered. "Next time I'll ask for a refund."
The cracked road led them to their safe house—an old apartment block that once housed office workers. A faint lantern burned behind a boarded window: Alice's signal. They were home.
Alice met them at the doorway. Her face lit up when she saw Ethan. "You made it back!"
"No tail," he said. "All quiet for now."
Her relief softened into a smile. "Good. You missed some excitement."
Behind her stood two unfamiliar figures: a woman in her thirties, and a little girl hugging a stuffed rabbit so tight the ears were bent sideways. Both looked scrubbed and bandaged.
"This is Sarah and her daughter, Lily," Alice said. "We found them hiding in the basement across the street. Lucky we heard them tapping the pipes."
Sarah bowed slightly. "Thank you for letting us stay."
Ethan nodded. "You follow the rules, you stay safe. No loud noise. No wandering."
Lily peeked up. "Mister, are you the one who kills the monsters?"
Ethan hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Only the loud ones."
Nathan snorted. "Great. More mouths to feed."
Alice's eyes narrowed. "They're people, Nathan."
"People who'll starve with us," he said, turning away.
Ethan shot him a quiet look. "Rest. That's an order."
Nathan didn't argue—his knees were already shaking. He and Mike stumbled toward their makeshift beds, muttering about "bonus points for napping."
Morning came grey and cold.
Ethan took stock of the supplies: four instant-noodle packs, two bottles of water, and a can of peaches. Barely enough for two days.
Mike lay on his side, ribs wrapped in tape, trying to joke. "We're a luxury resort—no room service, one-star food."
Nathan groaned from the floor. "Shut up before I stab you with your own spoon."
Ethan ignored them, scribbling numbers on a torn calendar page. "We've got one full meal left. If we ration, maybe two."
Alice frowned. "So we raid again."
"Tomorrow," Ethan said. "Give them a day to breathe."
He looked over at Sarah and Lily, quietly eating dry noodles. The girl was humming a nursery rhyme, voice soft and steady, as if she hadn't seen corpses on the street that morning.
Nathan stared at them a long time before rolling over. "Pretending it's normal doesn't make it normal," he muttered.
Ethan didn't reply. He knew everyone pretended in their own way.
Before dawn, Ethan slung his backpack over one shoulder and checked his axe's edge.
"John, Emily—you're with me," he said. "Mike, Nathan, guard the entrance. No noise, no lights until we're back."
Nathan sat up, still bandaged. "You're going now? We just got back."
"Food's almost gone," Ethan said simply. "Rest your mouth and your body."
Mike sighed. "You sure about taking Emily? She's never been outside since the outbreak."
"She needs to learn sometime." Ethan looked toward the young woman tightening the straps on her small pack. "She listens better than you two."
Emily smiled nervously. "I'll try not to scream."
"Good start," Ethan said.
The streets were pale with morning fog. Ash drifted like snow between the buildings. The three moved quickly, keeping low, weapons ready.
Their target was a small supermarket six blocks away—the same one they'd avoided before because of collapsed shelves near the back. Now, risk didn't matter. Hunger did.
Ethan raised a hand, signalling stop. He crouched by the shattered front window, scanning the aisles inside.
"Clear?" John whispered.
"Maybe," Ethan said. "Zombies don't always make noise."
They stepped in. The smell of rot and stale food hit them instantly. Flies buzzed over something behind the counter. Ethan ignored it, sweeping his gaze over the aisles—scattered cans, broken bottles, footprints half-dried in blood.
"Grab everything sealed and light," he whispered. "No glass. No noise."
Emily nodded and started filling her bag—noodles, canned beans, dried fruit. Her hands trembled, but she didn't freeze.
John went for the back shelves, prying open a crate of bottled water. "Still good," he whispered, grinning. "We're lucky."
Ethan's stomach twisted at the word. Luck doesn't last.
Something clattered deeper inside the store.
They froze.
Emily looked at Ethan, eyes wide. "That wasn't us."
Ethan crouched low, motioning them behind a counter. The sound came again—metal rolling over tile. Then a wet shuffle.
A shadow moved between aisles.
Ethan peeked around the corner.
A single zombie, limping, jaw missing, dragging a shopping basket hooked on one arm. Its eyes were dull, unfocused. Not a threat—yet.
He signalled the others to stay back, then stepped out, silent as breath. One quick swing.
Thunk.
The body fell without a sound.
He dragged it behind the shelf, wiping the axe clean on a torn apron.
Emily exhaled shakily. "How do you stay so calm?"
Ethan checked the aisle again. "You get used to it."
She didn't believe him, and neither did he.
They gathered as much as they could carry—eight cans, four bottles, three packs of noodles, a handful of snacks that hadn't expired five years ago. When the bags bulged, Ethan motioned them out.
The street was still quiet. They slipped through side alleys, moving like shadows. Every few blocks, Ethan paused to listen—nothing but wind.
Halfway home, they spotted movement ahead—a group of five zombies shambling slowly past an intersection.
Emily whispered, "We can sneak?"
Ethan nodded. "Low and silent."
They crept behind a wrecked taxi, staying crouched. One of the zombies twitched its head, sniffing. Ethan held his breath until it turned away again.
When the last one passed, they moved.
Ten minutes later, the base was in sight.
Mike opened the door before they could knock. "You're back already?"
Ethan dropped the heavy pack onto the floor. "Enough food for three days, maybe four."
John grinned. "And no casualties. First in a while."
Alice hurried over, relief in her eyes. "Thank God. We were running out."
Emily slumped onto a chair, rubbing her arms. "I can't feel my shoulders."
Nathan looked up from where he sat cleaning his knife. "What, tired from picking cans?"
Ethan shot him a warning glance. "She did fine."
Nathan snorted and went back to his blade.
Sarah appeared with Lily behind her. "You brought food?"
Ethan nodded. "Help us sort it. We'll ration equal shares."
Lily tugged at his sleeve shyly. "Thank you, mister."
He crouched to her level. "You can thank Emily. She carried half of it."
Emily smiled, flushing a little as the girl handed her the rabbit doll in gratitude. "I—uh—can't take this."
"Keep it," Lily said solemnly. "For luck."
Ethan turned away before anyone saw him smile.
---
That night, the group ate real food for the first time in days—instant noodles cooked in warm water, canned corn, even a few pieces of candy for Lily. Conversation hummed quietly through the room.
Mike leaned back, sighing. "Tastes like heaven."
Nathan muttered, "Heaven's smaller than I imagined."
Ethan didn't respond. He sat near the boarded window, watching the streetlights outside flicker and die one by one.
Alice joined him, whispering, "You think it's over for tonight?"
"For tonight, maybe."
"You don't sound convinced."
He watched the horizon, where faint smoke still curled into the stars. "Because it's never over. We just buy time."
She nodded, staring at his hands. "You're shaking."
Ethan looked down. He hadn't noticed. The muscles in his forearms still hummed faintly—his System's power refusing to fade.
"Three days of food," he murmured. "Then we hunt again."
Behind him, Nathan's voice cut through the soft chatter: "Next time, I'm coming."
Ethan turned slightly. "Heal first."
Nathan met his eyes, stubborn. "I'm done sitting."
Ethan didn't argue. He just looked back out the window, at the city that no longer slept.
Outside, the night wind shifted, carrying the faint echo of something distant—something big moving through the ruins.
Status
Strength – 13
Agility – 6
Stamina – 12
Points – 29
Notice: 5 points represent a normal, healthy human baseline.