The hospital hall was silent.
Only moments ago, elderly uncles and aunts had been eager to "testify" on Ethan's behalf. But once the police announced the attacker had already been dead before the incident, their enthusiasm vanished. The crowd withdrew quietly, their chatter gone.
In the end, the only one who stayed by his side was the young nurse—Christina Chu.
Ethan noted her decision with faint surprise. The others had scattered, yet she had chosen to accompany him to the precinct to make her statement.
Still, he didn't panic. Not once.
Even sitting in the back of the police car, flanked by officers, his eyes closed and his expression calm, Ethan radiated composure. He had already considered the worst-case scenario and accepted it.
And he had no regrets.
Because what he had gained far outweighed the inconvenience.
---
When he killed the zombie—likely the first in Riverdale City, perhaps the first on all of Blue Star—the System had rewarded him with more than experience and coins.
It had given him something rarer.
Something only evolvers could see.
A parchment.
Nestled safely in his evolver's space backpack was a curled, ancient-looking sheet, glowing faintly with otherworldly energy.
Not equipment. Not currency. Something infinitely more precious.
A blueprint.
Ethan's lips curved faintly.
In his last life, forum discussions had hammered one truth into every survivor's mind:
Props and gear crafted from blueprints might not always be the strongest at their level…
But the strongest equipment at any level was always blueprint-made.
Blueprints were the foundation of true power.
They were special treasures dropped within the Trials of Gods and Demons, granting the bearer the ability to forge equipment, potions, or unique items—provided the proper materials were gathered. Once collected, the blueprint allowed the object to be cast from the void itself.
But their rarity was legendary.
Not one in a thousand. Not one in a hundred thousand.
Sometimes—one in a million.
Even with the tenfold pre-apocalypse bonus, finding one on his very first kill was beyond extraordinary.
Luck.
Ethan's hidden Luck stat had to be high. He could feel it.
He drew the blueprint into view and examined it carefully.
---
[Zombie's Claw – Crafting Blueprint]
Type: Weapon – Gloves (Grade E)
Description: Claws soaked in zombie venom and blood, possessing terrifying tearing power and a strange blood-draining effect.
Crafting Requirement: 30 Zombie Nails
Remark: If you can see this, believe in yourself. You are the child of destiny, the master of tomorrow's world, the lord of the apocalypse… the big player of the end times.
---
Ethan's eyes glimmered.
It wasn't the grade that mattered—E-level equipment was nothing special.
It was the fact that he had a blueprint at all.
In a world where such treasures had drop rates bordering on myth, to hold one now was a windfall of unimaginable proportions.
The materials weren't difficult—just thirty zombie nails. Yet even that was a tall order before the apocalypse officially broke loose. Zombies weren't exactly abundant yet, and collecting their parts without exposure was risky.
Still, the item wasn't his focus.
The blueprint itself was priceless.
He smiled faintly, folding it back into his inventory.
The policemen misinterpreted his calm. One officer gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Don't worry. We've got video footage. You saved someone's life. You'll be fine."
Ethan tilted his head, studying him. Fine?
A dead man lay in a hospital. Even in self-defense, that normally wasn't brushed aside so easily.
The officer leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Listen—this virus, whatever it is, it's new. That patient wasn't alive when he attacked. He was gone already. It doesn't fall on you."
"Officer Zhang!" another policeman snapped sharply, face grim.
Ethan blinked.
So. That was it.
The police already knew. This wasn't the first case. They were covering it up, keeping the outbreak quiet to prevent panic.
It fit perfectly with his knowledge. His past-life memories had said the transformation wave spread subtly at first, hushed up by officials until the collapse was undeniable.
No wonder they hadn't handcuffed him. No wonder they hadn't treated him as a suspect at all.
He gave his statement calmly, described the attack, then signed the papers. By nightfall, he was released without further trouble.
---
As he stepped out of the precinct, a voice called softly.
"Are you okay?"
He turned.
Christina Chu stood there, still in her nurse's uniform, mask pulled down now. For the first time, Ethan saw her face clearly.
His eyes flickered with interest.
Her cheeks were soft, almost doll-like, carrying the freshness of youth. Her lips pressed nervously together, but her wide eyes shone with earnest concern. She wasn't breathtaking, but she was undeniably pretty—pure, warm, the kind of girl people liked instinctively at first glance.
A pleasant surprise.
Ethan's smile softened, warm and disarming. "I'm fine. What about you?"
Her face flushed. She shook her head quickly. "I'm okay. But… thank you. Really." She hesitated, then blurted, "Let me buy you dinner!"
The words tumbled out nervously, but she held his gaze.
Her heart thundered. She had never invited a man out before—not once in her twenty years. Yet something about him—the way he'd saved her, the warmth of his hand, that calm smile—had stirred something she couldn't name.
Looking into her expectant eyes, Ethan chuckled inwardly.
How could he possibly refuse?
Even the cruel Dark Mother Goddess had once coveted this face. Winning the trust of a little nurse, a white rabbit eager to repay him, was hardly difficult.
He nodded, still smiling.
"Dinner sounds good."
---