Dan furrowed his brow, staring at his stats.
He'd leveled up—twice now—but his numbers hadn't changed.
"System," he said aloud. "What are the levels actually for?"
A brief pause. Then, the familiar glow of text returned.
[Each level grants 1 stat point, which may be allocated to any base attribute manually.]
[Current unspent stat points: 2]
Dan blinked.
"…Are you serious?"
He slapped his forehead. "I've been sitting on points this whole time?!"
With a frustrated sigh, he navigated the menu and quickly assigned his lone point into Stamina. The change was subtle—but immediate. His muscles felt lighter, more responsive. His reflexes sharpened by just enough to notice.
A brief shimmer marked the update.
Daniel Hunter
Age: 18
Level: 3
XP: 300 / 400
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class: ???
Health: 10/10
Strength: 10/10
Agility: 10/10
Endurance: 10/10
Intelligence: 12/12
"System, add a tab under Intelligence to show unspent stat points going forward."
[Tab added. Would you like to view your stats again?]
Dan waved the prompt away. "No, it's fine."
The interface blinked out of sight, and Dan leaned back against the wall with a muttered curse.
"All this time... I could've been faster."
He exhaled slowly, already feeling the difference in his body—and silently vowed not to miss another detail again.
As he closed the menu, a thought hit him. He scrolled through the XP requirements again. 100 XP to reach level 2, then 200 more for level 3... and now 400 to reach level 4.
The system didn't just increase XP needed—it doubled the requirement with every level. No wonder it had taken him longer to level up this time.
Dan muttered, "So it doubles each level... that's gonna get brutal real quick."
"I need a plan," Dan muttered as he returned to his apartment.
He grabbed a backpack and quickly packed a few cans of food he found lying around.
Looking out the window, he saw distant fires casting flickering orange glows over the streets below. Dozens of infected twitched and staggered through the shadows. Bodies lay scattered everywhere—an unsettling, stomach-churning scene.
Dan sank onto John's bed, his mind racing. I wonder if my family is okay.
His father had died when he was young, and his mother now lived abroad with his younger brother. He dialed their number, but the call rang unanswered.
With a heavy sigh, Dan scrolled through social media. Desperate posts flooded his feed—people begging for help, sharing addresses. Others livestreamed streets just like his own: littered with corpses and infected.
The police were scrambling to establish safe zones, but with limited manpower and society unraveling, it was a losing battle. The military was in worse shape—many officers and soldiers had turned infected, plunging bases into chaos.
Fuck, Dan whispered, closing his phone.
I can't leave this building.
Too many infected outside.
My best chance is to seal the main entrance, gather survivors, and clear the building.
I have a few days before the bodies start to decompose, making this place unbearable.
If I can find enough people, maybe we can escape the city together.
He nodded, collecting his thoughts. Though the level-up had refreshed his body, fatigue from adrenaline and lactic acid still weighed him down. His mind wrestled with John's death and worry for his family.
There was only one option: survive. For them.
With grim determination, Dan stood and headed for the stairs. Without John, no one could open or close the stairwell doors, and too many infected on the stairs could mean disaster. He decided to try the other stairwell at the corridor's far end.
He opened the door carefully—empty.
Moving cautiously, he descended to the first floor.
Peeking through the door, he froze.
Infected had flooded the stairwell—at least ten of them. The main front door was still wide open.
Fuck, he breathed, slamming the door shut.
I can't do this alone.
Luckily, the infected couldn't get upstairs. Both stairwell doors had security locks, and as long as the infected didn't accidentally open them, the upper floors would remain safe—for now.
Dan revised his plan: clear the upper floors, find survivors, then deal with the reception.
With that decided, he cautiously climbed toward the second floor.
He opened the door and immediately faced a snarling pack of infected, their eyes wild and bodies twitching with unnatural speed. The narrow corridor gave Dan little room to maneuver, but he used that to his advantage. With his newly honed reflexes, he moved faster than before — every step calculated.
The first infected lunged forward with a feral snarl. Dan sidestepped, bringing his blade down in a sharp, precise arc. The infected crumpled, but another was already charging. He barely had time to fall back before spinning and slashing again, catching the second in the shoulder and forcing it to stagger. The tight space meant the infected came at him one or two at a time, and Dan quickly fell into a rhythm: strike, retreat, strike again.
His muscles burned, adrenaline sharpening his senses. He could feel the pattern — how they hesitated after missing, how their attacks came in short bursts. He used that moment to dodge and strike decisively, never giving them a chance to regroup.
One after another, the infected fell, their snarls turning to gurgles. After the fifth, Dan staggered back, heart pounding, breathing heavy but steady. The corridor was littered with bodies, but he was alive — and stronger for it.
A system notification chimed in his mind: a level-ups. Without hesitation, he added another point to Agility, feeling his body respond instantly. He wiped sweat from his brow and moved on, knocking on the nearby apartment doors.
Dan moved carefully down the corridor, knocking softly on each dorm room door. The first door cracked open, revealing a girl about his age with sharp green eyes and a braid hanging over her shoulder. She looked tired but determined.
"I'm Mia," she said quietly. "You're the first friendly face I've seen all day."
Dan nodded, offering a small smile. "We need to stick together if we want to survive. I'm Dan."
The next door opened to a tall, lanky boy with glasses slipping down his nose and a nervous twitch in his hands. "I'm Eli," he said. "I'm not much for fighting, but I'm good with my hands. Can I help?"
Dan's eyes softened. "Definitely. We all have a role to play."
At the third room, a quiet girl with short dark hair and an intense stare opened the door. "Name's Jade," she said simply. "I'm ready if you need me."
Dan nodded. "Good. We're going to make weapons. Spears. They're simple but effective."
He gathered some broken broom handles and kitchen knives from the nearby abandoned rooms. Demonstrating the technique, Dan showed them how to tape or tightly tie the knives to the wood, creating makeshift spears.
"Eli, you're good with your hands — you make sure these are sturdy," Dan instructed.
Mia examined her spear, practicing the grip. "I'm not just sitting back. I want to fight."
Jade nodded. "I'll watch your back."
Dan smiled faintly, feeling a flicker of hope. "Alright, we'll keep each other safe. One step at a time."