Chapter: 004 Supermarket Escape – Level Up Through Death, New People!
"So damn heavy!"
Ethan gritted his teeth as he shifted the weight of the bulging backpack on his shoulders. He took a few steps, staggered slightly, then scowled in frustration. With a sigh, he crouched down and began unloading.
Two-thirds of the supplies hit the dusty floor of the supermarket with a dull thud.
"This isn't going to work," he muttered, glancing warily at the fragile glass walls surrounding the store. Thin, brittle glass—not even reinforced. It wouldn't take much for a horde of zombies to crash through, especially if they caught wind of him.
This wasn't one of those heavy-duty commercial chains that could double as a fortress. No security shutters, no thick metal doors. Just a convenience store masquerading as shelter.
"I can't afford to be weighed down," Ethan whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "Speed is survival."
He had leveled up twice already, each time investing his points into strength and stamina—not for combat dominance, but for escape. For freedom. For staying alive long enough to get somewhere truly safe.
He grabbed the largest bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and chugged deeply. The cool liquid ran down his throat, refreshing but fleeting. He tossed the bottle aside, wiped his mouth, and sprinted out through the broken automatic doors.
Outside, his summoned Skeleton stood guard, silent and still—like a loyal grim sentinel.
But they weren't alone.
A group of twenty zombies were already lumbering toward him, their slack jaws hanging open, yellowed eyes locked on his living heat. Their sheer numbers brought an immediate wave of pressure, like an invisible wall of dread collapsing inward.
"Shit," Ethan hissed, taking a step back. He scanned quickly—no gaps, no way to force his way through that crowd.
Then came a voice from above.
"Help! Someone! Please help us!"
Ethan's eyes snapped to the source—up in a tree near the school courtyard, a boy was waving frantically.
Aaron.
His voice echoed across the open ground, drawing attention like a magnet. Sure enough, ten of the zombies abruptly turned and began shambling toward the tree where three students were perched among the branches.
By Aaron's side, Roby's face twisted in panic.
"Aaron! Are you insane?! You just lured them here again!"
Aaron shot him a defiant glare. "And what? Wait here until we starve? Or fall? Or get plucked off one by one? We're not getting out of this unless someone fights through!"
Roby opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He knew Aaron was right. The campus was littered with the undead. Slow, yes—but endless. And one scratch, one bite, was all it took. Everyone had heard the stories: once infected, there was no going back. No cure. Just death… followed by something worse.
Back on the ground, Ethan's frown faded. Half the pressure was gone—literally.
"Now it's manageable."
Ten zombies remained in his path.
The skeleton took a long stride forward, eyes glowing faintly with soul fire. With an eerie silence, it raised its rusted battle axe and brought it down in a heavy arc—cleaving the head of the first zombie clean off. The severed skull went flying, bouncing twice before coming to a stop in the dust.
Ethan moved behind his summon, already calculating.
"I need the experience. If the Skeleton kills them all, I get nothing..."
"Cut off their left arms, but don't kill them!" he commanded sharply. "Let me finish them off!"
The undead paused, then obeyed with inhuman precision. It stepped forward and hacked downward, slicing clean through a zombie's left shoulder.
Ethan darted in behind, gripping his novice staff like a spear. With a quick step and a grunt, he swung the staff into the exposed skull of the crippled zombie, sending its head cracking sideways before the corpse collapsed in a twitching heap.
Up in the tree, Aaron's eyes widened.
"Whoa… that guy's amazing," he breathed, watching the deadly coordination between the living and the dead.
Ethan's heart pounded—not from fear, but focus. Two zombies down. Eight remained.
"Fall back!" he barked.
The Skeleton withdrew instantly, following Ethan as they created distance from the slow-moving tide.
But the horde kept coming.
One of the zombies suddenly burst into a sprint. Faster, more aggressive.
Ethan's mind raced.
"Target the left arm—NOW!"
The Skeleton spun and slashed, severing the limb before the creature could close the distance. Ethan didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, twisting his hips as he slammed the staff into its skull with a sickening crack. The zombie stumbled, spasmed… then collapsed.
They backed off again.
Rinse and repeat.
It was a brutal game of hit-and-run. The Skeleton disabled. Ethan finished. Step by step, they turned the tide—turning death itself into opportunity.
Finally, after the last zombie's twitching corpse hit the ground, a notification shimmered in his vision like divine light:
[You have advanced to Level 4. You have earned 2 status points. Please allocate your attributes accordingly.]
Ethan smirked, breathing hard, sweat dripping down his chin.
"Strength and Stamina," he muttered. "Let's keep this train rolling."
Ethan dropped to one knee, chest heaving, every breath labored like he was dragging air through crushed lungs. His body trembled from exhaustion, drenched in sweat and the stink of dried blood. He had just bashed down ten zombies in brutal close combat. Every swing of his staff had drained him, and now—he was running on fumes.
> Stamina: 3
That number flashed in the corner of his vision. Dangerously low. One wrong move and he was finished.
Yet despite the fatigue threatening to knock him out cold, a strange warmth surged through his veins. The sensation wasn't physical—it was systemic, tied to the power dwelling deep within him. A pulse of invisible energy bolted through his bones like a jolt of liquid fire.
At the same time, his undead companion—the skeletal warrior he had summoned—also seemed to shudder with unseen strength. Its bones rattled slightly, its aura sharpening like a drawn blade. The upgrade was obvious.
The Skeleton has also been promoted to level 4, and its overall strength is now 30% stronger than the average person.
"Not bad," Ethan muttered under his breath.
But peace never lasted long.
The noise from the earlier fight had drawn attention. Three more zombies, dragged in by the scent of flesh and fresh death, had stumbled into view from the ruins nearby. Their eyes—milky white and hollow—locked onto him with primal hunger. Their groans cut through the silence like death rattles.
Ethan sighed, mentally exhausted. His shoulders slumped, and a flicker of annoyance flared in his eyes.
"Just one more level… just one more," he murmured. "Then I'll finally have enough juice to properly secure this damned perimeter."
He turned his head slowly, issuing a direct command without emotion. "Kill them. Then stand guard."
There was no flourish to the order—just cold calculation. Ethan was spent. He needed time to recover. Even a single zombie, in his condition, could mean the end.
The Skeleton clicked into motion without hesitation. Wielding a his heavy axe, it moved with eerie precision. The first zombie lunged—and had its skull cleaved in a clean downward arc, the axe biting deep and splitting bone like dried wood. The second tried to circle, but a quick backhanded strike severed its jaw and neck in one brutal motion.
The final zombie staggered forward—
Crunch!
A final blow sent it crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut.
But something unusual happened.
Where the last zombie had fallen, a white object slowly emerged, rising unnaturally from the corpse like a summoned relic. It was a box—about 30 centimeters long—bright against the blood-stained ground, pristine and humming faintly with unknown energy.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Hey… what the hell's that?"
He walked toward it, cautious but curious. The box was completely smooth, made of some kind of dense, glossy material. No latch. No hinges. Just… waiting.
[White Treasure Box! A mysterious container. It may hold something valuable… or nothing at all. Place your bet on luck.]
The system's message appeared in his mind like a whispered thought—not typed words, but absolute meaning.
"Ah," Ethan said, finally understanding. "So that's why the system tracks a Luck stat…"
It all made sense now. He'd always considered the Luck stat just flavor—background noise in a world where raw strength and skill meant survival. But now, he understood: Luck influenced more than just random drops. It had weight. Probability. Fate.
Ethan's own Luck stat was unnaturally high—almost double what two average people would possess combined. Two souls combined? A Body and A Soul Combining? A quirk? A hidden blessing? A time bomb?
But the system had marked it locked—he couldn't assign more points to it, couldn't adjust or influence it. It was fixed. Immutable. And maybe that made it even more terrifying.
"Is it like Domino's luck?" he wondered aloud. "Or Wanda's probability warping? Something that nudges reality behind the scenes? Because if so… this could be way more dangerous—or useful—than it looks."
He shook his head violently. "Focus, Ethan. You're not in a lecture hall. You're in a fucking apocalypse."
He reached for the white box and flipped it open without ceremony.
A brilliant white flash burst out—harmless but overwhelming, like the glare of the sun through sterile glass. Ethan winced and raised a hand. When the light faded, something hovered midair for a moment before settling gently into his grasp.
It was a folded garment, sealed with a strange rune that dissolved as he touched it.
[[Level 1: Protective Garment]
Type: Body Armor
Effect:
Provides limited biological hazard defense against early-stage contamination. Can absorb up to 3 direct infection attempts from Level 5 or lower viral strains before deteriorating.
Bonus Stats:
+1 Endurance
+1 Agility
+1 Vitality
+1 Stamina
+1 Spirit
+1 Strength
Limitation:
Offers no protection against infections ranked above Level 5. Repeated damage or exposure will degrade its efficacy.
Description:
A standard-issue survival outfit distributed during the first months of the apocalypse, this garment was once worn by medical teams, first responders, and civilian survivors alike. Although outdated in high-threat zones, it remains a dependable fallback in contaminated areas and early settlements. Its form-fitting design allows it to be worn beneath heavier armor or layered with modular suits without stacking conflicts.
Lightweight, breathable, and reinforced at critical seams, it's often repurposed into makeshift hazmat gear by resourceful survivors.
Compatibility:
Can be worn by any class and alongside other protective equipment.
Durability: 3/3
Sell Value: 50 Survival Coins]
Ethan gave a slow whistle. "Now that's a jackpot."
The protective garment was more than just a stat boost—it was practically three extra lives. Even if he got bitten or slashed three times, the infection wouldn't take root until the suit failed.
He quickly pulled it over his body. It adjusted to his frame with eerie accuracy, like it had been tailored to him. Smooth. Tight. Not too constricting. Reinforced at the joints.
A slight hum vibrated across his chest for a moment, syncing with his system interface.
"Fighting zombies head-on always risks infection," Ethan muttered, pulling the last strap tight. "But now? Now I've got a buffer room. Just don't get surrounded, and I can fight twice as hard with half the fear."
The Skeleton silently returned to his side, axe dripping with ichor. Ethan glanced at it and gave a subtle nod.
"Good work. Let's finish this grind… and get the hell out of here."
Ethan glanced at the tree where the boys were still hiding, gave them a casual thumbs-up, then turned away and calmly walked into the small supermarket to rest.
"Uh... Aaron, what's he doing? Why did he just walk into the supermarket like that?"
Roby blinked in confusion, staring at Ethan's back as the man disappeared behind the cracked glass doors.
Aaron narrowed his eyes in thought, voice low.
"Maybe he's exhausted. Fighting like that burns through stamina fast. He's probably just recovering."
And Aaron wasn't wrong.
Combat—especially the kind Ethan had been engaged in—wasn't something the average person could maintain for long. Even someone strengthened like Ethan would hit a wall eventually.
Inside the dim supermarket, Ethan moved cautiously between half-toppled shelves, resting but never letting his guard down. His eyes flicked to the corners of the store, always watching, always calculating.
He had already eliminated every zombie within the immediate area. The only remaining threat were the sixteen undead still aimlessly loitering under the tree where the three boys had taken shelter.
He checked his stamina mentally—after donning the protective gear, his stamina stat had climbed to 13 points. But the fight had drained him down to 4. After a five-minute breather, he'd only managed to recover to 7. Then… nothing. Even after twenty more minutes of rest, his stamina meter refused to budge.
"Tch. Damn it," Ethan muttered under his breath, irritation flashing in his eyes. "Even after all this strengthening… this body still has its limits."
His enhanced physique couldn't change the fact that his stamina pool was still too shallow for the kind of prolonged combat he'd just endured.
He reached into his bag, fingers brushing across a familiar object—an item he had been saving for emergencies.
"The Apple of Vitality…" he whispered, pulling it out. "Guess it's time."
He bit into it.
Juice exploded into his mouth—sweet, rich, and unnaturally refreshing. As it flowed down his throat, Ethan could feel something stirring deep within. A cool, revitalizing current spread through his body like a river of life, flushing away fatigue and restoring lost energy.
In just five minutes, his stamina surged—rising steadily until it hit 12 points. The weariness that had clung to his muscles like chains slowly began to lift.
His rest complete, Ethan stepped out of the supermarket once more, now refreshed and ready. The Skeleton followed close behind, its bones clicking softly with each step.
"He's back!"
Roby's voice was filled with excitement as he pointed down from the tree.
Aaron squinted. There was no hesitation in Ethan's stride anymore. That meant one thing—he was ready for battle again. And if Ethan had decided not to help them, they would've been left to die. But now… there was hope.
Ethan's sharp eyes locked onto the sixteen zombies loitering beneath the tree. Without warning, he pulled a dented can of beer from his pocket and hurled it to the pavement with full force.
CLANG!!!!
The metallic crash echoed like a bomb across the empty street. The zombies, immediately responding to the noise, jerked their heads toward the sound and began shambling toward Ethan in a loose horde.
"Let's go, buddy," Ethan murmured, gripping his novice staff tighter. His voice was calm, but his eyes gleamed with cold intensity.
Beside him, The Skeleton gave an eerie rattle and surged forward like a silent shadow of death.
Within seconds, it closed in on the nearest zombie. With a clean overhead swing of its axe, the creature's head flew through the air like a ball, bloodless and final.
Three more zombies peeled away from the group and rushed at The Skeleton.
But Ethan was already moving. He darted in from the side, slammed his staff down with a savage crunch into the skull of one, twisting the neck violently to the side. Another zombie lunged—he kicked it hard in the chest, sending it sprawling backward.
Before gaining the protective gear, Ethan wouldn't have dared get this close. One scratch, one bite—death would be inevitable. But now? His confidence burned as hot as his sharpened instincts.
The Skeleton met the other zombie's charge, cleaving its head cleanly in one swing. No wasted motion.
The recent level-up to Level 4 had given The Skeleton a solid 30% boost in overall stats. Faster reaction time. Stronger blows. Greater combat efficiency. It was becoming a killing machine.
Ethan pressed forward again, swinging his staff like a bat and slamming it directly into the side of a zombie's head. Bone cracked, jaw dislocated, and the monster crumpled.
Four down.
They retreated a few steps, letting the remaining twelve zombies cluster together. A short breather. Then they charged again—striking fast and viciously. Their second blitz took down another three zombies before they pulled back once more.
It was a deadly game of attrition—hit, withdraw, recover, strike again.
But the zombies were slow, predictable, and no match for Ethan's strategic mind. Each attack was calculated. Each retreat was timed. Together, man and Skeleton tore through the undead tide like a scythe through weeds.
By the end of the skirmish, all sixteen zombies lay scattered across the asphalt, unmoving.
"Amazing…"
Aaron exhaled in disbelief. "I never imagined our school had someone like that hiding in the shadows."
Roby and William nodded silently, still watching in awe as Ethan calmly adjusted his coat.
His stamina had only dropped by 3 points during the whole fight—thanks to his improved vitality and the effects of the Apple. That alone spoke volumes of how much stronger he had become.
Without wasting time, Ethan moved through the corpses, bending down to collect the scattered Survival Coins gleaming on the bloodstained ground.
Once the area was secure and all threats eliminated, the three boys finally dared to climb down from the tree.
The nightmare was over—for now.
But they all knew one thing as they looked at Ethan:
This man wasn't normal.
He was a storm in human form.
And the world, already torn by death and chaos, had just birthed a being with both power… and a sharp mind to wield it.
"Hey there, classmate! Name's Aaron—third-year student."
Aaron dropped down from the tree like a practiced survivor, landing lightly on the concrete before walking over with a confident grin on his face. His school uniform was tattered and dust-covered, but there was a strange brightness in his eyes—like someone who hadn't yet been broken by the apocalypse.
"I'm Roby Yu, also a third-year," another boy chimed in, brushing off some dried blood from his sleeves.
"I'm William. Third-year, too."
The trio approached cautiously but without hostility, their eyes occasionally flickering to the figure standing beside Ethan.
Ethan gave a small nod and replied with calm composure, "Ethan Chan. Thanks for the assist earlier."
Aaron waved it off with a hearty chuckle. "Oh, come on! I should be thanking you! If it weren't for that crazy skeleton of yours, we'd be zombie chow right now!"
Earlier, Aaron had distracted a portion of the horde, luring away half the undead just in time. That opening had allowed Ethan to counter-attack and wipe out the remaining threat—but he knew full well that, without that crucial window, he might've been overwhelmed. In a zombie apocalypse, survival often came down to timing—and luck.
Ethan's expression was calm, but his eyes remained sharp, constantly scanning the surroundings. Complacency kills, he reminded himself.
The undead weren't terrifying because of their individual strength. In fact, one-on-one, they could be easily dispatched. What made them true nightmares was their numbers... and the infection. Just twenty zombies could drain someone's stamina and mental focus, slowly grinding them down until a single mistake sealed their fate.
Aaron suddenly pointed at Ethan's skeletal companion. His tone was half awe, half curiosity.
"Hey, Ethan... what is that thing? Where'd you get it?"
Roby and William both eyed the skeletal warrior with envy and amazement. Just minutes ago, they'd watched the creature swing its bone axe in a brutal arc, cleanly decapitating a zombie like it was made of paper.
Ethan didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze swept across the open school courtyard. "This isn't the place to talk," he muttered. He pointed toward a nearby small supermarket. "Inside. Let's move. Fast."
Although he and his summon had cleared the immediate area, Ethan could sense the danger hadn't passed. This was a University, after all—hundreds of students and staff. In a world now ruled by undeath, that translated to a potential swarm of over a thousand zombies.
Aaron and the others nodded immediately and followed him at a jog. Once inside the supermarket, Roby went straight for a dusty can of beer, cracked it open, and chugged it in one long gulp. He let out a loud, satisfied exhale.
"Whew... thought I'd die out there. Damn, I was thirsty."
Ethan shot him a cold glance. "Don't make too much noise," he said sharply. "We're not safe yet."
Aaron grabbed a bottle of water and took a cautious sip before returning to Ethan's side, his curiosity undimmed. He pointed at the skeletal warrior, still standing silently like a sentinel by the broken glass door.
"So seriously... how did you get this thing? Can you teach us? Share the skill?"
William and Roby were looking at Ethan now like desperate men clutching at hope. After all, in this hellscape, power meant survival. And power was rare.
This sudden collapse of society stripped away the illusion of order. When laws fell silent, human nature started to scream. Greed, envy, ambition... they all surfaced like predators sniffing blood.
Ethan gave them all a level look. "You heard the voice too, right? The one that claimed itself... God?"
Aaron nodded. "Yeah. Right before everything went to shit."
"I heard it."
"Same."
Roby and William confirmed, their faces grim.
Ethan continued, his voice steady. "After I killed my first zombie, a skill book dropped from its corpse. I used it—and gained the skill to summon this skeleton."
He wasn't planning to keep that part a secret. In a world where people could become walking armories of magic and undead summons, information sharing could mean nothing to anyone—and higher chances of survival.
This wasn't something to hide; having more power was better for escaping. This is common knowledge for anyone who has spent even a little time with MMORPGs.
Roby's eyes lit up. "You've killed so many zombies! You must've found more skill books, right? You have extras? Just give us one—we can help you kill more of them!"
Ethan's stare turned cold. "Nope. Nothing spare."
Roby blinked, taken aback by the blunt refusal.
Ethan didn't care to explain. Instead, he redirected the topic with the same pragmatic tone.
"Killing zombies with the novice staff drops rewards. Stat boosts. The usual early-game grind."
He eyed their empty hands.
"Where are your novice staffs?"
Aaron scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "Tossed it when we were running away... Thought it was useless weight."
"Same here..." Roby mumbled.
"Didn't think it was worth carrying," William admitted.
Ethan clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Rookies..."
A one-meter-long staff wasn't exactly lightweight, but it was a lifeline—especially if it was the only tool that could grant them power. Now they were empty-handed, and worse—powerless.
Aaron looked visibly regretful. "Damn it... if only I'd known."
"Too late for regrets now," Ethan said flatly. "We'll find a way."
Roby and William felt embarrassed about a novice staff that measured 1 meter in length and weighed several kilograms, leading them to decide against bringing it along during their escape.
Ethan paused, thinking ahead. Time was ticking. The longer they stayed, the more likely they'd be surrounded.
"Can any of you drive?"
That got their attention.
Ethan explained, "There are at least thirty zombies between us and the school's main gate. My skeleton and I can take them down, but it'll burn a lot of stamina. We need a faster way out. If we can get to the school buses, we might be able to smash through the blockade."
Aaron and Roby shook their heads.
William raised a hand. "I've driven cars before. Not a school bus, but... I know the basics."
Ethan studied him closely. "You're confident?"
William nodded. "The controls can't be that different. Brake, gas, steering—same concept. I can handle it."
Ethan gave a rare smile. "Good. Then we've got a plan."
He looked at the others.
"We find a school bus. We hotwire it. William drives. My skeleton and I clear the way. You two stay quiet and stay useful."
He turned back toward the shattered storefront.
"This place is a graveyard waiting to happen. We don't move fast, we're going to be buried in it."