Lucas Kane stepped onto the rooftop of Building 8, scanning the scattered flowerpots filled with overgrown weeds and unfamiliar plants. Without hesitation, he yanked them all out and replaced the soil with the meat yam seeds he'd recently acquired. After planting several in each large pot, he poured clean water over the soil.
[Meat Yam Seed successfully planted. Time until maturity: 120 days.]
"Four months?" Lucas frowned. "Who knows what this world will look like in one month, let alone four."
But then he remembered something. "Wait... I can use Mutated Fertilizer!"
Digging through his inventory, Lucas pulled out a clump of grotesque organic matter labeled:
[Mutated Fertilizer – Speeds up crop growth by 10 days. Note: Only one use allowed per crop per day.]
"Only ten days per use? Not ideal..."
Lucas rubbed his chin, calculating. The first thirty days might still be relatively safe, so he needed to prepare as much food as possible. He didn't want to risk starvation just because he planted too late.
Decision made, he synthesized ten units of Mutated Fertilizer into a single Accelerated Fertilizer.
[Accelerated Fertilizer – Reduces Meat Yam maturity by 60 days.]
"Now this is more like it."
He applied the fertilizer, and within moments, the soil shimmered with a faint glow. The sprouts burst from the earth, grew taller, thicker—until five robust plants, each half a meter high, stood swaying in the morning breeze.
[Time until maturity: 60 days.]
Lucas placed the remaining Accelerated Fertilizer next to the pots for the next day. After a quick breakfast, he left the rooftop, Lupo trotting faithfully beside him.
The fluffy white wolf pup—still small, but with a glimmer of primal power in his eyes—kept sniffing the ground or peering into corners. But whenever Lucas moved, Lupo would perk up and follow closely.
It was a peaceful stroll—until they reached the front gate of the apartment complex.
Lucas's expression darkened immediately.
A group of survivors—four men and a woman—were gathered beyond the fence, ruthlessly dispatching the zombies he had deliberately lured there the previous night. Behind them, the woman he'd rescued earlier from the tree was now tied to a lamppost like a criminal. Her eyes were dull, defeated.
The men were armed with random weapons: a baseball bat, a couple of kitchen knives, even a cleaver. With the protection of the community's perimeter fence, they were hacking through the undead with zero risk.
"Looters..." Lucas muttered, fury rising in his chest. "They're stealing my kills."
He stepped forward and shouted, "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
With a swift motion, he unsheathed his Sharpened Tang Sword. In his left hand, he raised the riot shield.
Lupo sensed his master's rage. The tiny wolf bared his fangs and growled lowly.
"Huh? Who's that?" one of the men turned.
Seeing that it was just a single guy with a puppy, their alarm instantly faded.
A burly man with a thick beard sneered. "This woman? I saw her first. She's mine now. But hey—if you want her, sure. Trade me some food. Or better yet... give me that shiny sword of yours."
His eyes glittered with amusement. "And that puppy... small, but probably good for stew."
The others laughed, eyes flashing with greed.
Lucas's voice turned cold. "I wasn't talking about the woman. I said the zombies are mine. Move away from the corpses and walk away. Do that, and I'll let you live."
His words hung in the air, sharp and unrelenting.
The bearded man's face twisted. "Oh? You've got guts, I'll give you that. But you clearly don't understand the world we live in. There's no such thing as 'finders keepers' anymore."
He looked around at his group, then back at Lucas.
"You're just one man. You think you can threaten us? You've got a death wish."
Lucas stayed silent, his gaze steady.
"Wrong move, kid," the bearded man snarled. "You had a chance to run. Now I'm taking that sword, that puppy, and whatever's in your storage space."
The group fanned out, slowly surrounding him.
Four men. One woman.
Their weapons were makeshift, but they'd clearly survived a few battles. Their shields—repurposed kitchen boards, pot lids, even a cutting board with a handle—still bore dried blood.
And there it was. The memory.
Lucas recalled a chat from the survivor channel yesterday.
"Group of looters nearby. Four men, two women. Dangerous."
Only one woman here. The other must be hiding...
No matter.
Lucas's mind sharpened. These aren't desperate survivors. They're predators.
And there was only one way to deal with predators.
"Since you've chosen this path..." he muttered, "I'll make sure none of you walk away."
The bearded man gave a mocking laugh and whispered to the tattooed woman, "I'll grab the dog. You attack from the front. When he's distracted, go for the kill."
The tattooed woman nodded. "He must have food if he can feed a mutt like that."
The group had a system.
She was the brain—cold, calculating, manipulative. She'd been the one to suggest raiding other survivors from day one.
They'd already murdered several—stole their food, their gear, their lives. It was efficient. Profitable. And addicting.
The woman tied to the pole? Kept alive not out of mercy, but as bait. Or worse, a tool for infiltration.
Now they had another target.
"You die here, pretty boy," the bearded man grinned, lunging forward with three of his men.
Lucas's eyes narrowed.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
And he was ready for it.
Lucas's eyes narrowed. Something wasn't right.
Just as the burly leader roared and charged, Lucas saw it—the woman with the tattoo hadn't moved. While the others brandished their makeshift weapons and stormed forward, she slowly took a step back, her gaze flicking toward a side alley.
"There's a sixth," Lucas muttered, jaw tightening.
He didn't hesitate. The Tang sword gleamed as he stepped forward, raising his riot shield. Behind him, Lupo growled, white fur bristling, the small pup's eyes locked onto the advancing enemies.
The first attacker, a man wielding a fruit knife, swung recklessly. Lucas sidestepped, parried with his shield, and slammed it forward. The man stumbled, and before he could recover, Lucas's blade flashed.
One down.
A baseball bat came crashing toward his shoulder. Lucas ducked, rolled sideways, and sliced at the wielder's knees. The man collapsed with a scream, but Lucas didn't stop. He whirled, using the shield as both barrier and bludgeon, knocking back a third attacker.
"Now!" the tattooed woman screamed.
From the side, a figure leapt out of hiding—a second woman, holding a broken pipe aimed straight at Lupo.
Too slow.
Lupo's instincts kicked in. The tiny wolf pup's body glowed faintly with bluish energy. In a flash, he doubled in size. Muscles rippled beneath white fur. With a snarl, Lupo launched himself into the air, crashing into the attacker mid-leap.
They both tumbled to the ground, but only one got up.
The others froze for a moment, stunned by the sudden reversal.
"You underestimated me," Lucas said coldly. His presence felt like a blade drawn under the skin—sharp, unforgiving. "And you underestimated him."
He pointed at Lupo, who now stood guard beside the riot shield, blood on his muzzle and eyes glowing with latent energy.
"Finish it," Lucas said, and charged again.
The big man, still clutching the modified cutting board as a shield, roared and met him head-on. Sparks flew as the sharpened Tang blade clashed with the crude shield. The man was strong—exceptionally strong. But Lucas had trained for days on end, tested his body against zombies and beasts, and now, against humans.
And unlike them, he didn't fight for greed. He fought for survival.
A feint. A pivot. The Tang sword curved in a deadly arc.
The man's shield split down the middle.
A scream cut the air.
Within seconds, the battle was over.
Five bodies lay sprawled in various states of pain and unconsciousness. The tattooed woman, seeing her team wiped out, dropped her blade and stumbled back, face pale.
"You don't have to die," Lucas said calmly, blade still wet with blood. "But if you follow me, threaten me, or even breathe wrong—I will finish what I started."
She nodded frantically, eyes wide, backing away before sprinting down the road, disappearing behind a collapsed building.
Lucas exhaled and looked down at the woman tied to the streetlamp. Her face was dirty, her lips cracked, eyes hollow but conscious.
He stepped forward and sliced the rope.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
She nodded slowly.
"Then walk," Lucas said, turning his back.
Lupo followed at his side, tail wagging.
Behind them, the stench of blood mingled with the morning mist.
This was the new world—merciless, lawless, and cruel.
And if you wanted to survive in it, you couldn't afford to hesitate.