"Grace!" Ethan shouted, already moving.
Before she could scream, the Skeleton was there—its axe sweeping in a wide arc with brutal grace. One zombie's head exploded like an overripe melon under the blow, chunks of flesh splattering the railing.
Ethan followed, leaping forward. His staff whistled through the air and smashed into a second zombie's skull, twisting it with a bone-snapping crunch. But the momentum of his strike knocked Grace off balance. She tumbled backward, hitting the floor with a gasp.
The last zombie, maddened and hungry, raked its claws across Ethan's left arm.
The sound of tearing fabric and the sharp bite of pain followed. His sleeve was shredded. His muscles screamed from the impact—it had nearly dislocated his shoulder.
"Damn it!" Ethan growled, stumbling back.
But he didn't falter.
Even as pain flared through his arm, his mind remained cold, focused. He gritted his teeth and pivoted, drawing power into his next strike. He couldn't afford to stop—not now, not while Grace was down, and they were still surrounded.
That female zombie was terrifyingly close to Ethan—close enough for him to smell the revolting stench of decay wafting off her rotting flesh. Her face was mangled and barely human anymore, torn apart by bites and time, the skin hanging off like soaked paper. Her eyes, glassy and vacant, fixated on him with mindless hunger. Ethan's stomach twisted at the sight. He clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to vomit. There's no way I'm becoming something like that...
Without hesitation, Ethan lashed out with a brutal kick, slamming his boot into the zombie's abdomen. The force behind it wasn't ordinary—it came from the raw strength he'd gained through relentless leveling. The female zombie was hurled backward like a ragdoll, crashing into a wall nearly two meters away.
Before the creature could even groan, the skeletal warrior under Ethan's command stepped forward. Its eyes burned with ghostly green flames, and its rusted battle axe gleamed under the flickering lights. With a clean downward swing, the axe split the zombie's skull open, ending her existence in a single strike.
As the foul creature collapsed, a white-glowing treasure chest shimmered into existence beside her corpse. The loot-drop system was still active, much to Ethan's relief.
From the ground, Grace stumbled upright. Her face was pale, her lips trembling with worry. She rushed toward Ethan, her eyes wide with fear as she noticed his injured left arm. "Ethan! Are you alright?!"
Her voice cracked slightly, thick with panic. She was close enough now for him to see how her long brown hair stuck to her forehead from sweat, and how her flawless skin had lost its color from fear and exhaustion.
The most terrifying thing about fighting zombies wasn't just the bites—it was the scratches. A single graze from their infected claws, and you were done for. There was no antidote, no second chance. Infection meant death. And worse... undeath.
"I'm fine," Ethan said calmly, though his voice was faint, and his breathing was shallow. "This is a system equipment Protective Garment has zombie-resistant plating... fend off the zombie attack 3 times before failing."
He held up the torn edge of his sleeve, revealing an inner mesh-like layer of protective fibers—advanced, tech scavenged from a destroyed military facility. He'd spent a fortune getting it. Without it, that zombie would've spelled his end.
Grace's large eyes shimmered as she looked at him. Her expression was soft yet serious. "Thank you, Ethan. You saved my life... I don't know how I'll ever repay you."
Ethan didn't respond to her words. His mind was already elsewhere, calculating the next steps. He quickly bent down and picked up the treasure chest, shoving it into his backpack without checking its contents. There was no time.
"Go find your friends," he ordered, glancing over his shoulder at the groaning that was beginning to grow louder. More zombies were emerging—slow and relentless, like a wave of death.
Up on the third floor, more doors creaked open. Female zombies, once students, now monsters with twisted limbs and torn uniforms, began to stagger out. Their moans echoed through the hallway like a death song.
Grace nodded and ran forward, her eyes sharpened by desperation and purpose. She swept her curved blade with precision, slicing through the necks of two zombies in a single flowing motion. The move was elegant and deadly. Her long hair whipped behind her, and despite the gore, there was something undeniably graceful in how she moved.
She dashed to Room 304, banging on the door. "Luna! It's me! Grace! I'm here to get you out! Open up!"
A voice came through the thick wooden door, muffled but excited. "Grace?! You really came! Hang on—we're moving the barricade now!"
Inside, they could hear the frantic scraping of chairs and furniture.
But the hallway behind them was filling fast.
Ethan's eyes swept the scene. Zombies were emerging from nearly every room on the floor now. Dozens of them. If they didn't do something, they'd be overwhelmed.
"I'll draw them away. Watch the door and don't let it stay open too long!" he said sharply.
Grace's head turned, alarmed. "Wait—I'll help you!"
He blinked, surprised by her determination.
"Alright. Stick close!" he nodded. The Skeleton stepped forward too, silent as ever but deadly with every movement.
The three of them charged the horde.
What followed was chaos. Ethan's staff bashed threw one zombie after another, his movements swift and calculated. He didn't waste energy. Every step, every swing, was surgical. His battle instincts and quick thinking had always kept him alive, but now—with Grace and Luna at stake—he was fighting like a man possessed.
Grace followed at his side. Though slower, her strikes had a beauty to them, her body twisting and flowing with trained grace. Each time she fought, she looked more like a warrior than a frightened student.
The Skeleton, unrelenting and mechanical, cleaved through flesh and bone with its axe, its cold efficiency stacking bodies behind it like a scythe through wheat.
Inside Room 304, a round-faced girl peeked from the window. Her eyes widened in awe at the trio bashing and cutting through the swarm like seasoned fighters. Her cheeks flushed, and a gasp escaped her lips. "They're... amazing..."
But the battle was taking its toll.
There were over a hundred zombies on the third floor. After several minutes of nonstop fighting, their stamina began to fade. Ethan gritted his teeth and powered through—his body reinforced by multiple stat upgrades—but Grace was faltering. Sweat soaked her uniform, her breathing ragged, and her staff arm was shaking from all the bashing.
Twice, she narrowly dodged swipes from zombies who had gotten too close. Blood splattered across her face, but she didn't stop. She couldn't.
"Grace! Now!" Luna's voice called out again.
The dormitory door burst open. Luna's bright eyes appeared through the gap as she waved frantically.
The trio rushed inside. Ethan turned at the last moment, dragging a nearby cabinet toward the door. The girls inside scrambled to help. Within seconds, they'd barricaded the entrance with a computer desk, a nightstand, and a broken bookshelf.
Once the door was sealed, Grace collapsed onto a nearby bed. She was drenched in sweat, her hair clinging to her skin, her chest heaving with exhaustion. She looked up at Ethan, her eyes filled with emotion—fear, gratitude, and admiration all at once.
Her beauty was undeniable, even smeared with dirt and blood.
The battle had been brutal. Without Ethan's quick thinking and their combined strength, none of them would have survived the third floor.
Ethan sat on the edge of one of the girls' beds, his back slouched slightly, eyes closed, his entire body drenched in sweat. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling with every labored gulp of air. Though he was physically stronger than Grace, the relentless battle outside had drained almost all his energy. At this moment, his stamina hovered dangerously low—just four points remained. Every movement felt heavier, as if gravity itself had grown hostile.
The girl's dorm room was dimly lit, the windows blocked with makeshift barricades of desks, chairs, and shelves. The air still carried the sharp metallic tang of fear, mixed with the scent of dust and adrenaline. In addition to Grace, four other girls were present, all of them gathered near the far end of the room, their eyes wide with a mix of awe, caution, and growing curiosity.
They couldn't tear their eyes away from Ethan—and especially from the silent, skeletal figure standing protectively beside him. Just minutes ago, the two of them had charged headlong into a swarm of undead, cutting down zombies with terrifying precision and fury, holding the line to prevent the horde from crashing into the dorm building. It was a scene none of them would forget: a man and a skeleton warrior fighting back-to-back, soaked in blood and shadow, blazing like warriors from action movies.
A soft breeze drifted through the cracked window, carrying with it a sweet, flowery scent. It came from one of the girls now approaching him.
She was stunning—long, jet-black hair cascading in waves down her back, a pair of expressive hazel eyes framed by elegant brows, and full lips curled into a charming smile. Her white university t-shirt was knotted just above the waist, revealing the curve of her hips, while tight-fitting jeans hugged her hourglass figure perfectly.
With a soft chuckle, she stepped closer. "Hello," she said with a cheerful tone, "My name is Luna Yao. Classmate, what's your name, please?"
Ethan slowly opened his eyes and glanced at her. Despite the fatigue weighing him down, his sharp gaze remained composed and calm, his voice low but firm.
"…My name is Ethan."
Luna Yao. The name alone carried weight at Qinghua University. She wasn't just beautiful—she was a campus celebrity. Gorgeous, graceful, and naturally magnetic, Luna could sing, dance, and charm any crowd. Her smile alone had broken more than a few hearts, and her vibrant energy made her one of the most popular girls on campus. Now, that same girl stood in front of him, eyes gleaming with interest.
She placed a hand over her chest and bowed slightly. "Thank you for coming to rescue us with Grace. We… owe you everything."
Ethan gave a faint nod. "You're welcome."
Just then, another girl stepped forward. She had pale, almost porcelain-like skin, a cascade of fiery red hair falling over one shoulder, and a baby face that made her look innocent—but her figure was no less striking, matching Luna's seductive allure with hourglass shape.
"Hi Ethan, I'm Maya," she said shyly, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she spoke.
Before Ethan could reply, another voice chimed in. "Hello! I'm Ava."
This one was a short-haired blonde, exuding confidence. Her blue eyes were bright, her smile bold. She had a lean, athletic build, the kind that hinted at years of sports training. Her curves were elegant, her posture commanding—like an Olympian in civilian clothes.
Then came the fourth girl. A statuesque beauty with long lashes, dark eyeliner, and just the right touch of make-up to enhance her already striking features. She had a modern, stylish air about her—tall heels, tight jeans, and a crop jacket over her tank top. Her bottom-heavy hourglass figure was impossible to ignore.
"I'm Olivia," she said with a soft, teasing smile. "You're really something, Ethan. Brave enough to fight those monsters with your own hands? That's kind of hot."
Ethan gave a tired, wry smile, wiping sweat from his brow. "I'm not that powerful… I was just forced to fight."
If he had a choice, he would never willingly dive into a battle against the undead. One misstep—one scratch—and it could all be over. He knew that better than anyone.
Reaching into his backpack, Ethan unzipped it and pulled out a cold bottle of water. Even now, when his body was screaming for rest, he moved with a deliberate sharpness—checking corners, scanning the room. The hour of experience and survival instincts kept him on edge.
He took a long swig from the bottle, feeling some of the fatigue ease from his muscles.
Even in the chaos outside, even in the most desperate moment, Ethan had never abandoned his bag. It was his lifeline—packed meticulously with high-calorie snacks, water, and medicine. With it, he could hole up for three days straight and still come out swinging.
As the girls caught a glimpse of the supplies—bottles of coke, chocolate bars, candies—their eyes lit up like children seeing sweets after a famine. They were exhausted, starving, and overwhelmed. Since noon, they'd been barricading the dorm, dragging heavy furniture, and holding their breath at every sound. Their strength was nearly gone.
Yet they hesitated.
Even now, even hungry, their pride held them back. Asking for help—especially from a man—was something they weren't ready to do out loud.
All except Grace.
"Water. Chocolate," Grace said directly, walking up to Ethan without an ounce of shame.
Ethan tossed her a can of Coke and four KitKat bars without a word. Grace was a fighter—someone he could trust in this world gone mad. She earned her supplies.
Luna hesitated for a second, but then smiled and walked forward. "Ethan… we're really thirsty too. Could we get something? Please?"
Ethan looked at her for a moment, then sighed and dug into his pack again. He pulled out one more can and four chocolate bars, handing them to Luna. "Here. You'll have to share. I don't have much left."
"Thank you, Ethan," Luna said sincerely, taking the supplies before walking back toward the others.
As she distributed the snacks, her mind was already racing. He gave Grace more. That means… she's more important to him.
She stole a glance at Ethan, who was now checking his weapon, sharpening a bloodstained staff in silence. That calmness, that deadly efficiency, even after exhaustion—it struck something deep inside her.
Luna bit into her chocolate bar slowly, her expression unreadable. I need to make sure I become just as important to him too…
Around her, the others laughed softly, relieved, enjoying the sweet taste of sugar in their mouths. But Luna's thoughts were already elsewhere—already calculating, already deciding her next move.
For now, Ethan had saved their lives.
But Luna had no intention of being just another grateful survivor.
High-calorie food like chocolate had once been a rare indulgence for these girls—something reserved for birthdays, festivals, or secret snacks during late-night study sessions. But now, everything is different. The world had changed. To be able to eat and drink anything at all was a blessing in itself. As they slowly nibbled at the precious chocolate bars Ethan had handed out earlier, the girls savored each bite like it was the last sweetness left in a crumbling world.
But peace never lasted long.
Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the corridor.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The thunderous pounding of rotting fists against steel jolted everyone back to reality. The zombies outside the girl's dormitory door were attacking in a frenzied wave, their decaying arms relentlessly battering the metal entrance. The entire room trembled under the weight of their assault.
Without Ethan and Grace constantly patrolling the premises to keep the undead at bay, the foul creatures had begun to gather. One by one, two by two—until all three floors of the dorm had become a feeding frenzy. Dozens of the infected were now slamming themselves into the steel doors, snarling and screeching, their eyes filled with bloodlust.
Despite the fortified entrance, the girls' faces grew pale. No one knew how long that door would hold.
The four girls—Maya, Luna, Olivia, and Clara—huddled behind Ethan and his towering Skeleton companion. Though Grace stood beside them with a staff at the ready, her presence didn't have the same overwhelming reassurance. She was powerful, yes, with swift movements and a steady hand—but she was still just one person, and a woman at that, significantly outmatched compared to Ethan who had leveled up several times, and the eerie, bone-armored skeleton warrior at his command.
Even Grace's jaw was tight.
"Big Sis Grace… what do we do?" Maya whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched the hem of Grace's uniform. Her soft baby face was filled with terror, and her big eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
Grace furrowed her brows, striding with firm steps toward the dormitory door. Her long dark hair was tied in a tight ponytail, swaying as she moved. Clad in a form-fitting, high-collared tactical university uniform designed to avoid scratches from the undead, she looked like a battle-hardened beauty, fierce yet graceful. She leaned toward the window and took in the situation.
Below them, outside the main door, were more than thirty zombies—limbs twitching, teeth gnashing, forming a mass of infected flesh and hunger. The stairwell was completely blocked, the narrow corridors would only lead to being torn apart. Fighting in such a confined space was suicide.
With a glance back, she called out, "Ethan… any ideas?"
Ethan stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He moved quickly, scanning the situation through the dirty window with a calculating gaze. The sheer number of undead outside made his jaw tighten. Even his summoned skeleton wouldn't be able to hold the line for long—not in this tight space.
He turned away from the door without hesitation and strode across the room to another window—this one overlooking the rear of the dormitory.
His eyes narrowed.
Only a handful of zombies wandered around back there, aimless and isolated. The terrain outside was open, with a service path leading toward the outer edge of campus. A plan was already forming in his mind.
He turned back to the girls, voice steady and low.
"Escaping from this building isn't the problem," Ethan said, "The challenge is surviving out there. The entire world has turned into a zombie wasteland. Without a safe place, we're just walking corpses."
The girls listened, hearts racing.
"We'll need a place to hide. Something far from the city center. Not an apartment or tower block—those places are death traps. What we need is isolation. Suburbs, gated neighborhoods, self-contained villas… something with walls and space. Do any of you have access to a place like that?"
The girls exchanged glances.
Then Luna, a tall and elegant girl with silky brown hair and sharp eyes, stepped forward.
"My home is in the Garden District," she said confidently. "It's a private residential zone… and I have the keys."
Ethan nodded slowly, already assessing the details. The Garden District wasn't too far from Qinghua University, a college town far removed from major urban centers. Perfect for laying low.
"That could work."
Luna's eyes lit up with hope.
Ethan continued, "Now the next question—who here can drive?"
"I can!" Luna raised her hand with pride.
"I can drive too," Olivia added, brushing a golden strand of hair behind her ear. Her expression was poised and determined, but her eyes sparkled with the unspoken message: Let me prove my worth. She stood tall, her figure outlined by the snug uniform she wore—a look of both beauty and resilience.
"What about a school bus?" Ethan asked. "It's bigger. We can fit everyone and supplies."
"No problem," Luna replied, without hesitation. "I've driven it before."
"Do you know where the key is?"
Luna nodded. "Yes. The driver, Filix—his quarters are between the General Office and the Academic Affairs Office. I've met him several times. That's where we should search."
Ethan was impressed. This was no ordinary student. As president of the student council, Luna clearly had experience dealing with school authorities and logistics. That knowledge might just save them.
With a sharp breath, Ethan pulled open his backpack and reached inside.
A white treasure box rested at the bottom, its surface glowing faintly. He touched the latch.
Click.
A burst of light shimmered through the room, momentarily bathing them in brilliance. When it faded, a gleaming sword rested in his hand—its blade sharp, its edge pulsing with magic. It wasn't just a weapon. It was a promise of survival.
[[Straightblade – Level 1]]
A utilitarian weapon forged in the early days of survival—clean, balanced, and brutally efficient. Made from refined scavenged alloys and tempered in makeshift forges, the Straightblade bears no ornamentation, only purpose. Its razor-honed double edge slices effortlessly through decayed flesh, bone, and even light armor, making it a favored choice among frontline scavengers and infected-sweep squads.
Attack Power: 5–8
Type: Melee
Effectiveness:
Exceptionally effective against infected and lightly armored opponents. Its precise edge allows for surgical strikes, decapitations, and rapid combo attacks without sacrificing control. Particularly favored for close-quarters sweeps in narrow corridors or stairwells where maneuverability is key.
Durability: 300/300
Sell Value: 90 Survival Coins
Description:
A survivor's classic—the Straightblade has earned its place in apocalypse history. Reliable, easy to repair, and quick to draw, it remains the backbone of many combat loadouts. While it lacks supernatural enhancements or exotic materials, its lethality lies in its simplicity. Against the infected, sometimes all you need is steel, grit, and a steady hand.]
"Nice... finally, a proper sharp weapon," Ethan muttered, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "I was getting tired of crushing heads with a damn stick."
In his hand gleamed a newly got Straightblade—its edge sharp, long, and metallic silver with faint traces of frost that shimmered in the fading sunlight. He gently caressed the blade with reverence, feeling a cool, almost supernatural chill pulse from the hilt to his fingertips. It wasn't just a weapon—it was a lifeline.
'Zombie won't be a problem anymore,' Ethan whispered to himself, his eyes narrowing as he gave the sword a few practice swings through the air. It sliced cleanly, silently, with perfect weight and balance. 'With this… they'll fall like wheat to a scythe.'
Before this, he'd been relying on a novice mage staff—nothing more than a wooden rod barely good for clubbing. Each swing against a zombie's skull sent vibrations up his arms, jarring his bones and wasting precious stamina. But now? Now he had a weapon worthy of the apocalypse.
Turning, Ethan rummaged through his makeshift backpack and produced a glowing item: a small, glowing Skill Book—its title inscribed in golden letters: [Level 1 – Small Fireball]. The book pulsed gently in his hand, radiating arcane energy. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and handed it solemnly to Luna.
"You all heard that strange voice calling itself 'God' when this whole nightmare began," Ethan said, voice low and firm. "I'll be honest with you—this world has changed. If you kill enough of those things out there... you level up. You grow stronger. This Special Skeleton you see? That was one of my own skills."
He looked directly at Luna, locking eyes with her. "This book teaches the [Small Fireball] spell. It's not powerful—not by my standards—but it's still magic. It's real, and it could save your life. Luna, I'm giving it to you. But I need a promise."
She blinked, stunned. The others watched, wide-eyed, breath held.
"I need you to swear that you'll never use this magic on us—and that you'll help me when the time comes to rescue one of my best friends. That's all I ask."
To Ethan, this was a fair trade. The spell wasn't much to him. But empowering allies, even with weak skills, was a smart investment. He wasn't trying to be a hero—he was trying to survive. And he needed loyal, capable people at his side. Luna might not be a warrior, but she was smart, composed, and could adapt quickly.
Luna nodded, her voice steady and clear, though her eyes shimmered with emotion. "Yes! I promise you. Once we're safe—I'll help you find your friend. You have my word."
As soon as she spoke, the Skill Book vanished in a burst of golden light. A beam of energy surged into Luna's head, and for a brief moment, her body glowed as if kissed by divine flame. Her silky black hair fluttered gently from the power's surge. She staggered slightly, but her face was radiant, eyes filled with wonder.
"It's... magic," Ava whispered in awe, watching the transformation unfold before her.
For a moment, no one spoke. The magic had left a visible glow on Luna's skin, almost as if she were illuminated from within. The light faded gradually, but her beauty now seemed ethereal—like a goddess given form.
Olivia's eyes, however, narrowed.
'Why does she always get everything?' she thought bitterly, arms crossed over her chest. 'Looks, brains, money... and now even God himself is handing her power? I'm sick of this.'
Olivia was attractive—tall, curvy, with stormy eyes and long hair—but when standing beside Luna's angelic features and porcelain skin, the envy in her heart had always simmered. Now it boiled.
Even Ava, cute and bubbly with caramel-colored hair tied in twin ponytails, couldn't help but sigh wistfully. "That's so cool… Magic really exists… I wish I had one too."
"Luna! Come on, show us!" Ava said, bouncing on her toes beside her. "Just a small fireball, please? Just one!"
Luna's excitement mirrored Ava's. Her hands were already twitching with the urge to test her new power. She raised one finger, gathering her will—
But Ethan's voice cut through like a blade.
"Stop."
They all froze.
"You can't waste it," he said seriously, stepping between them. "At your current level, you'll only be able to cast that fireball once a day. And we don't even know what the actual power output is yet."
He glanced at Luna with an arched brow. "Do you want to collapse after casting it and become a salted fish in the middle of a zombie horde?"
The girls blinked in confusion.
"A... salted fish?" Ava asked, puzzled.
"It means a dried-out, useless husk of a person who can't move," Ethan explained with a sigh. "Save your energy. Use the fireball when it matters."
Luna nodded, composing herself. "You're right. I'll wait."
Ethan glanced around at the group, noting the rising tension between the girls. He understood—jealousy in desperate times was a dangerous thing. But he couldn't afford to waste strength. He would give out skills when needed, but only to those who could control their emotions.
"Look, all of you," he said firmly. "There will be other skills. We'll grow stronger together. But only if we act as a team and not let petty envy destroy us from within. We're not just fighting zombies—we're fighting to hold on to our humanity."
The girls went silent. Luna clutched her chest where the magic had entered her. Olivia looked away. Ava bit her lip.
Ethan turned away, gripping the Straightblade once more, eyes narrowing as he listened for distant groans in the streets.
They were coming.
And he would be ready.