WebNovels

Chapter 16 - 16

Emily stared at her phone screen, frozen. The call duration timer ticked upward: thirty-seven seconds. Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. Then it cut off as the network died again.

Her lips trembled. Tears threatened to spill over, but she forced them back. She knew that tone in his voice—had known it since they were children, orphaned and alone in a system that didn't care. When Ethan decided something, when he set his jaw and made that particular sound in his voice, nothing could stop him. Not reason, not fear, not even the end of the world itself.

They had grown up depending only on each other. No parents, no extended family, just two kids fighting to survive in a world that had abandoned them long before zombies started walking.

She bit her lip hard enough to taste copper. "Then I'll help you," she whispered to the empty café, to the corpses shambling past the windows three floors below, to her stubborn, impossible little brother who was walking into hell to save her. "Even if it's just a little."

Meanwhile, two miles away, Ethan tore open a piece of stale bread he'd scavenged from an abandoned food truck. It was hard as concrete and tasted like cardboard, but his body needed fuel. He washed it down with half a bottle of warm water and stepped back onto the street.

The highway overpass loomed ahead, offering a direct route toward O'Hare. Maybe an hour's walk if nothing went catastrophically wrong. A generous estimate, given the circumstances.

He spotted a fire emergency cabinet beside an old gas station, its red paint faded and peeling. The glass front had already been smashed—probably by looters in the first chaotic hours—but the contents were still there.

Ethan reached inside and pulled out a fire axe.

The weight was perfect. Solid steel head, probably six pounds. Good balance between the blade and the spike on the opposite side. The handle was reinforced fiberglass, designed to withstand extreme conditions.

"Not bad," he said, testing a few practice swings. The motion felt natural, like the weapon had been made for his hands.

Then the System's interface flickered to life:

[Standard Fire Axe detected.]

[Spend 20 Points to Enhance Weapon?]

[Enhancement will permanently upgrade weapon quality and durability.]

[Current Points: 15. Insufficient for enhancement.]

Ethan's eye twitched. "Seriously? Five more?"

He glanced down the street. A cluster of zombies was wandering near an overturned bus about fifty meters away. Easy pickings.

Three minutes later:

[Killed Level-1 zombie. +1 Point. Current total: 20.]

He returned to the axe, still lying where he'd left it.

[Spend 20 Points to Enhance Weapon?]

[Confirm.]

"Confirm," Ethan said aloud.

The axe shimmered. Black energy—like oil made of shadow and starlight—crawled across the steel surface. The blade's edge turned darker, sharper, taking on an almost glassy quality that seemed to drink in the ambient light. The handle thickened slightly, and the spike on the back reshaped itself into a proper hammer head.

When the transformation completed, Ethan was holding a proper war axe. The kind of weapon that belonged on a medieval battlefield, not in the hands of a warehouse worker from Chicago.

[Enhancement Complete.]

[War Axe (Enhanced): Durability +200%. Sharpness +150%. Weight optimized for user.]

He grinned, swinging it once experimentally. The balance was even better now, perfectly suited to his strength and fighting style. "Now that's more like it."

A zombie lunged from a side alley, attracted by the sound of his voice. Ethan pivoted and brought the axe down in a clean vertical strike. The blade passed through the creature's skull, through its spine, and split its entire torso cleanly in half. The two pieces hit the ground separately, still twitching.

The axe had cut through flesh and bone like butter.

But before he could admire the result, a sudden scream tore through the air behind him—sharp, panicked, distinctly female.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!"

"Shit!" Ethan hissed, immediately diving behind a nearby delivery van. The scream echoed down the empty street, bouncing off buildings, carrying far too far. Every zombie within a two-block radius would hear that. Maybe more.

His pulse quickened, mind racing through options.

He could see them now—shambling forms emerging from storefronts, from alleyways, from behind cars. Dozens of them, maybe more, all turning toward the source of the noise like moths to flame.

Even with his enhanced abilities, a full horde was suicide. He wasn't immune to infection yet—that required a Level 3 enhancement to his constitution, and he was nowhere close to affording it. A single bite, a single scratch from those diseased nails, could still kill him. Turn him into one of them.

No. Now wasn't the time to play hero. He needed to move carefully, stick to the plan, get to Emily.

Still, as he crouched low behind the van, war axe gripped tight in both hands, a cold smile crept across his face. His reflection stared back at him from the van's side mirror—blood-spattered, exhausted, but with eyes that burned with fierce determination.

He adjusted his grip on the axe and began moving toward the highway overpass, leaving the screaming woman and the gathering horde behind him.

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