I searched through the night.
Two hundred and thirty-one pairs of eyes. Two hundred and thirty-one perspectives, each one a window into a different corner of the dying city.
It was like being everywhere at once—and nowhere at all. My consciousness flitted from zombie to zombie, catching brief glimpses of ruined streets, burning buildings, wandering dead. Each shift was a jolt, a momentary disorientation as my mind adjusted to a new body, new senses, new surroundings.
By midnight, I'd covered the industrial district. Nothing.
By 2 AM, I'd swept through the commercial center. Empty buildings. Abandoned stores. Zombies I claimed as I passed through, adding them to my network.
Two hundred and fifty-three now. The headache was a constant companion.
Master should rest, Ghost urged. She'd stayed by my side the entire time, watching over my body while my mind wandered. Master's heart beats too fast. Master's breathing is wrong.
"Not yet. Not until I find her."
Master cannot find her if master is dead.
"I'm not going to die," I said. "Not from this."
But I could feel the strain. Each time I jumped to a new zombie, it took a little longer to adjust. Each perspective was a little harder to hold. My body was running on fumes, and my mind wasn't far behind.
Still, I kept searching.
------------------------------
Dawn found me in the northern residential district.
Through the eyes of a zombie shuffling down a tree-lined street, I saw something that made me freeze.
An apartment building. Five stories, brick facade, fire escape on the side. The windows on the third floor were barricaded—sheets and furniture visible through the gaps.
I knew this building.
I'd lived here once. Ten thousand years ago—or seven days ago, depending on how you counted. Before the apocalypse. Before everything.
This was Min-Tong Lin's building.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I pushed harder into the zombie's senses, forcing it to move closer, to look more carefully.
The barricades were intact. No visible breach. But through the building's front door—smashed open, hanging from one hinge—I could see movement inside.
Zombies. At least a dozen, wandering the lobby and stairs.
And somewhere above them, if the barricades meant anything, survivors.
Found something? Ghost's voice cut through my focus.
"Her building," I breathed. "I found her building."
Then master should go. Now.
"The northern district is three miles from here. On foot, through zombie-infested streets—"
Master has an army. Use it.
She was right. Of course she was right.
I pulled my consciousness back to my body and opened my eyes.
The compound room came into focus—dim, gray with pre-dawn light. My body ached from sitting motionless for hours. My head throbbed with the worst migraine of my life.
But none of that mattered.
I'd found her.
------------------------------
"You're going now?" Max Yang's voice was flat, but I could hear the concern beneath it. "You've been searching all night. You're exhausted."
"She's three miles north. In an apartment building surrounded by zombies." I was already checking my equipment—knife at my belt, crowbar in hand, backpack with water and first aid supplies. "If I wait, she might not be there when I arrive."
"Then take people with you. Harold's steady. The security guard from yesterday—"
"No." I met her eyes. "I can move faster alone. And I won't be alone."
I gestured toward the courtyard, where my zombie army waited in silent formation.
Max Yang studied me for a long moment.
"You care about this woman," she said. It wasn't a question.
I didn't answer.
"In your original timeline," she pressed. "What happened to her?"
"She died." The words came out flat, emotionless. "Day 3. She was trying to help others escape a collapsed shelter. A Tier 2 caught her."
"And you couldn't save her."
"I wasn't there. I didn't know where she was. By the time I found out, it was too late."
Max Yang nodded slowly. "Then go. Save her. But Wei—" She caught my arm as I turned toward the door. "Don't die doing it. We need you alive."
"I don't plan on dying."
"No one ever does."
I left without another word.
------------------------------
The northern route took me through the heart of the devastation.
Three miles of ruined streets, burning buildings, and roaming dead. In my original timeline, this journey would have taken hours—careful navigation, constant evasion, the ever-present fear of being overwhelmed.
Now, I walked through it like a king through his domain.
My zombies moved ahead of me in a wedge formation, clearing the path. Any unclaimed dead I encountered, I claimed—adding them to my network, expanding my army as I traveled.
Two hundred and sixty-seven. Two hundred and eighty-one. Two hundred and ninety-three.
The headache screamed behind my eyes, but I ignored it.
Ghost padded at my side, her ears swiveling constantly.
Many dead things between here and there, she observed. Master claims them all?
"As many as I can."
Master's limit grows.
"It has to." I stepped over a body that hadn't risen yet—fresh enough that the virus hadn't finished its work. "The evolved zombie I saw yesterday is still out there. And where there's one, there will be more."
Then master will need a bigger army.
"Much bigger."
------------------------------
I reached Min-Tong Lin's building just after noon.
The front entrance was exactly as I'd seen through my zombie's eyes—door smashed, lobby occupied. But now, with my Death Aura at full extension, I could sense more detail.
Seventeen zombies in the lobby and stairwell.
Four on the second floor, scratching at a barricaded door.
And on the third floor, behind those makeshift barriers I'd glimpsed from outside...
Three living heartbeats.
One of them felt familiar. A warmth I hadn't felt in ten thousand years. My breath caught. For a moment—just a moment—I was paralyzed by the sheer reality of it. She was there. Thirty meters away, separated by concrete and dead flesh and barricades, but there. Alive. Breathing. Her heart pumping blood through veins that should have been cold ten thousand years ago.
She's there, Ghost said quietly. The one master searches for.
"She's there."
I took a breath. Steadied myself.
Then I sent my army in.
------------------------------
The lobby fell in seconds.
My zombies poured through the broken entrance like a tide of death—but controlled death, purposeful death. They didn't feed. They didn't destroy mindlessly. They simply overwhelmed, grabbed, and held while I reached out with my Death Aura.
The first zombie I claimed had been a postal worker—her bag still hung from one shoulder, letters spilling across the bloodstained floor. The second was a young man in running clothes, his morning jog interrupted by the end of the world. One by one, they stopped fighting my horde and turned, their empty eyes finding mine.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Seventeen more threads added to my tapestry. Three hundred and ten zombies now.
The stairwell was next. Narrow, dark, reeking of decay. My zombies moved in single file, clearing each landing methodically. I followed, Ghost pressed against my ankles, her ears flat with tension.
Then the second floor, where the four scratching zombies joined my horde. I paused at the barricaded door they'd been attacking—sensed two heartbeats inside, weak with fear and hunger. Not Min-Tong. I'd return for them later.
Three hundred and fourteen.
And then I was climbing to the third floor, my army spreading out behind me, Ghost at my heels.
The barricade was impressive—furniture piled high, sheets tied together, chairs wedged against the door. Someone inside had known what they were doing.
I knocked.
Silence.
Then a voice—female, hoarse, afraid: "We don't have food. We don't have water. Just leave us alone."
"I'm not here for food," I said. "I'm here for you. Min-Tong."
The silence stretched longer this time.
Then: "How do you know my name?"
"Because I've been looking for you. For a very long time."
Movement behind the barricade. Whispered consultation. Then the sound of furniture being moved, slowly, carefully.
The door opened a crack, and a face appeared.
Dark eyes. Tangled black hair. A face I'd seen in my dreams for ten thousand years.
Min-Tong Lin stared at me through the gap.
"Wei?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Wei Cheng?"
"Hello, Min-Tong." I smiled—a real smile, the first in longer than I could remember. "I told you I'd find you."
"You—" She blinked, confusion mixing with recognition. "We haven't spoken in months. How did you—"
The door opened wider, and she stepped into the hallway.
Behind her, two other survivors peered out—an elderly woman and a teenage girl, both haggard and frightened.
Min-Tong Lin looked past me, toward the stairwell.
Her face went white.
"Wei," she said slowly. "Why are there zombies standing behind you?"