Ji-hoon sat on the wooden saloon floor, still holding the knife covered in blood. The body of the zombie was a few feet away from him, lying still, with dark, sticky blood on the ground.
His breathing became more relaxed, but the fear never dissipated.
"This is not a tutorial level." he breathed.
There were no clues. No guides. No helpful NPCs giving away free equipment. No glowing arrows to guide him.
This was not the same. This was actual.
He glanced around the room. Vacant chairs. Shattered walls. A shattered lantern swaying a little from the ceiling.
"I must survive. That is the objective. Don't die."
He rose and cleaned the knife on his pants. His stomach rumbled.
"Right… food."
The game had hunger mechanics. Previously, it was merely a nagging bar you needed to fill every few hours. But now, he actually felt it—his stomach churning, his throat parched.
He opened the system menu once more. Nothing was different.
[Status]
Name: Klein Arkwood
Level: 1
Health: 70/100
Traits: None
Powers: None
Money: 0
Inventory: Rusty Knife (D)
He saw something new: his health wasn't full anymore. The zombie must have injured him during the battle.
"Now I can get really hurt too…"
He had to be cautious. One slip, and he might not wake up.
He left the saloon and walked back into the main street. The sun was still sitting low, creating long shadows. Time was slower here, but he didn't believe it. In the game, nighttime meant more powerful zombies.
He headed down to the general store a block away. Its sign was creaking precariously and its windows were broken.
The store was pillaged, but not entirely vacated. He discovered a couple of cans of food in the back counter, a partially full water flask, and a tattered backpack.
[Items Obtained: Canned Beans 2, Water Flask (Half Full), Small Backpack]
He pulled the backpack over his shoulder and crammed the items into it.
Better than nothing," he grumbled.
He sat at the counter and opened one of the cans with the knife. The beans were cold and smelly, but he didn't mind. He hadn't known he was so hungry until he had the first bite.
While he ate, he thought.
If this is a game, there must be a way to level up. Quests, perhaps? Or perhaps I must live long enough to gain powers."
He had no answers, only questions. But one thing was certain: the longer time went on, the more it seemed like he really had been dropped into a living, breathing world.
After eating, he drank some water and checked the store again. He found a few cloth rags, which he tore into strips for bandages, and a pair of worn-out gloves. Then, under the counter, he spotted something shiny.
A revolver.
His heart jumped.
He pulled it out and checked the cylinder—only one bullet inside.
[Item Acquired: Old Revolver (C), Ammo: 1/6]
"Just one shot…" he grunted, shoving it into his belt. "Got to wait for when it's really important."
Equipped with a knife and one bullet, he walked out of the store and gazed upwards.
Still orange. Still evening.
"Feels like time doesn't move unless I do."
He wandered through the tiny town, scanning each building. Many of them were empty or reduced to ashes. He discovered a couple more supplies—a lone healing herb, a pack of matches, and a chunk of jerky so dehydrated it was close to rock.
But what concerned him the most wasn't what he discovered.
It was what he couldn't discover.
No humans. No zombies. No creatures. Just stillness.
"Where is everyone…"
He walked towards the edge of town and saw something new—a signpost that pointed in various directions.
[South: Dustcreek Mines | West: Deadwood Canyon | North: Blackridge Town]
All the names seemed worse than the previous one. He wasn't ready to exit the starting area yet.
"Let's make it through one night first," he said to himself.
Back inside the saloon, he barricaded the door with tables and chairs. He walked quietly, not knowing how sound traveled here. In the actual game, noise drew zombies. Now, he didn't want to learn the hard way.
After blocking the doors, he lit one of the oil lanterns he found and sat in the corner, wrapping his knees in an embrace.
He glanced at the knife, then at the gun. One bullet.
"Okay. Plan," he told himself aloud. "Stay here tonight. Don't waste the gun. Use the knife only if I must. Keep quiet. No fire. No noise."
He wrapped the bandages over the cut on his arm. It wasn't deep, but it hurt.
Time crept by.
The lantern flashed.
Then—he heard it.
Footsteps.
Slow. Dragging.
His hand clamped harder around the knife. He flipped the lantern off and waited.
The footsteps increased, outside the saloon.
Then a groan. A low, gurgling moan.
Zombies.
One, possibly two. He couldn't be sure.
They scraped at the door. Sniffed the air.
Ji-hoon remained still.
The noise continued for a few minutes, then ceased.
He waited awhile before taking another breath.
"Too close…"
This world wasn't following game rules anymore.
He wrapped himself up in the corner, grasping the knife tightly. Sleep was slow to arrive.
Morning
sweet morning. Or what passed for morning. The sky was a pale yellow, a bit brighter than it had been before. Ji-hoon got up, stretched, and peered outside.
No zombies.
He ventured into the street once more, this time with greater determination.
"I made it through the first night…"
That in itself was a victory.
But only the winning of that.
He required answers. Allies. Firearms. A method to become more powerful.
And above all—most importantly—he needed to know why he was stuck here.
Because something had told him… this wasn't merely a bug.