Lucas Kane stared at the syringe in his hand. The yellow liquid within glowed faintly under the pale light, casting strange reflections across his fingers.
[Basic Constitution Booster: Instantly elevates user's physical condition to "Exceptionally Strong."]
He recalled the system's classification for survivor physiques:
Frail
Normal
Strong
Exceptionally Strong
Peak Human Limit
Above that? A different realm entirely—Awakened.
The evolutionary phase had its own unknown categories, locked behind inaccessible tabs. But Lucas wasn't thinking about that now. He was still just a "normal" survivor—and this little vial was his ticket several steps up the ladder.
No need to delay.
Even if he spent weeks training his body to reach the "Strong" tier, this serum would overwrite that progress and elevate him to "Exceptionally Strong" anyway. Better to use it now, while the difference could save his life.
He gritted his teeth and jabbed the syringe into his forearm with surprising confidence—his hands moved like they'd done this before. Muscle memory? Desperation? Didn't matter.
The yellow fluid slid into his veins.
At first, there was warmth.
Then fire.
The sensation raced through his body like molten lava, burning its way into every joint, tendon, and nerve ending. His muscles throbbed, twisted, and felt as if they were being torn apart from within. It took every ounce of his willpower not to scream.
He clamped a hand over his mouth and dropped to one knee.
Outside, thousands of zombies still wandered the street. One cry, one sound, and they'd descend like sharks in bloodied water.
The pain lasted nearly a full minute.
Then, suddenly—it was gone.
Lucas gasped. His limbs, once trembling, now felt light. His senses sharpened. The dull ambient noise of the ruined city seemed clearer, his vision more defined. He raised the fire axe in his hand. What once felt cumbersome now moved like an extension of his body.
He was stronger.
And his hearing... definitely better.
Because now, he could hear a voice.
Faint at first. Then louder. Desperate.
"...someone... please, is anyone there?"
"Don't come any closer!"
"You monsters—get away from me!"
"Help! Anybody!"
The cries came in fragments, but they painted a clear picture.
Lucas stood slowly, moving to the window—but he didn't stand directly in the open. That would be suicide. Instead, he flattened against the wall and peered out at an angle.
Behind the real estate office, a residential complex stretched out, most of it eerily quiet.
On a second-story balcony, roughly a hundred meters away, stood a woman—barefoot, terrified, and wearing a low-cut formal dress clearly not meant for survival. Her heels wobbled dangerously beneath her.
She must've been pulled in during an event... a party or gala or something, Lucas thought.
Just like he had arrived wearing his track suit, she had come dressed for a ballroom. The worst outfit for a zombie apocalypse.
And worse—her screaming had attracted attention.
Seven or eight zombies now clustered around the front entrance of the building, all reaching skyward, groaning hungrily. Their emaciated fingers stretched toward her like skeletal vines.
Stupid... she had the high ground. She was safe until she opened her mouth.
Still, Lucas couldn't help but see opportunity.
The zombies had their backs to him. Their attention was entirely on the woman.
If I strike now... I could take out a small horde in one go. Energy crystals, experience, resources. Worth it.
But he hesitated.
Were zombies in Aquaria like movie zombies? Did they track by smell? Was sound their primary trigger? Would one misstep draw them all to him?
He had no idea.
Then the system chimed again, as if answering his thoughts.
[Zombies are highly sensitive to sharp noises. Their attention is currently diverted. Now is a good time to engage.]
Perfect timing.
Lucas exhaled, calm settling over him.
He equipped his helmet, slung the riot shield over his left arm, and gripped the fire axe in his right hand. Then he made his way to the office's rear exit.
The front had a glass door facing the main road. The back—thankfully—was a steel security door leading to the residential courtyard.
He reached for the handle.
[Warning: Doorframe is rusted. Opening quickly will produce loud metal-on-metal noise.]
Lucas froze.
Good to know.
He adjusted his grip and carefully—slowly—pushed the door open.
Creaaaaak...
A sharp whine cut through the quiet.
Several zombies froze.
Lucas held his breath.
A beat passed.
Then another.
The undead turned back to the woman, resuming their low, mindless moaning.
Too close, Lucas thought, wiping sweat from his brow. He slid the door open just wide enough to slip through and edged into the alley beyond.
"Hey! Over here!" the woman cried, spotting him. Her voice jumped several decibels.
Goddamn it, woman.
The zombies didn't budge from their post. They were mesmerized by her voice, her scent, her panic.
Lucas crept forward.
Shield up. Axe ready.
He reached the group's rear without a single one turning.
"Careful!" the woman shouted again. "Don't let them bite you! If they scratch you—you'll turn!"
Lucas ignored her.
Every muscle tensed. He raised the axe, locked on to the nearest zombie's skull, and swung.