Dohyun stood in the bunker's main chamber, the newly acquired Silent Pistol (9mm) heavy in his hand. Yoona was asleep in a cot he'd quickly set up, exhausted by terror and the unfamiliar silence of the deep earth. She was safe, but his mission was incomplete.
He had supplies for survival, but not for a siege. He had focused so much on the fortress, the System, and his revenge, he'd neglected the final, critical step: mass rationing.
He had to move now. He had exactly three months and twelve days until December 20th—the date his memory screamed was the end. He couldn't risk the debt-fueled cash any longer; he needed to turn it into physical supplies that wouldn't spoil.
He calculated the caloric needs for three people for six months. It was a staggering number.
The Final Haul
Dohyun put on a clean set of dark clothes, his silent pistol holstered at his hip. He took the last of the laundered cash—about 30 million won—and drove the stolen van toward the nearest industrial food district.
He didn't hit grocery stores. He hit the wholesalers.
Using his Perception 17, he avoided surveillance and suspicious traffic. He parked at a massive warehouse specializing in canned and dried goods for restaurants. He introduced himself as a catering service owner preparing for a huge contract, flashing the cash like a shield.
For three frantic hours, he bought everything non-perishable: 1,000 kilograms of rice, sealed buckets of dried beans and legumes, industrial-sized cans of kimchi, oil, sugar, and salt. He loaded the supplies into the van, the suspension groaning under the weight.
He drove to a second warehouse, focusing on medicine and water. He secured hundreds of gallons of bottled water, industrial water filters, and dozens of large plastic drums for storage inside the bunker.
The Premonition
As the sun reached its zenith, bathing the city in a cold, autumnal light, Dohyun felt a tremor of wrongness that had nothing to do with traffic or surveillance.
His Perception 17 was not just seeing; it was feeling.
The ambient anxiety of the city was spiking. The air felt heavy, metallic. He saw a man stagger out of a convenience store, clutching his head. Moments later, an old woman stumbled and fell on the sidewalk, not moving. Isolated incidents, but his future knowledge screamed anomaly.
He quickly called his mother's work phone, intending to give her a final, desperate warning. It rang three times, then went to voicemail. Too busy to answer, or already...
He didn't finish the thought. He slammed the van into gear, driving the supply-laden vehicle back toward the mountains with reckless speed.
Zero Hour
He was three kilometers from the bunker's hidden turn-off when the world ended, not with a roar, but with a terrifying, instantaneous surge of chaos.
A scream split the air—not a scream of pain, but of pure, horrified disbelief.
Dohyun slammed on the brakes. A crowd was gathering outside a busy bus stop. A man was on the ground, and two people were hovering over him, trying to help.
Then, the man on the ground moved.
He didn't stand up; he lurched, his movements spasmodic and wrong. He grabbed the nearest helper by the throat and slammed her head against the sidewalk. Then, he tore at her neck with his teeth.
It was silent, wet, and sickeningly fast.
A wave of intense, blinding energy erupted in Dohyun's mind.
The System's voice was no longer cold; it was a triumphant, deafening roar: "APOCALYPSE PROTOCOL INITIATED. INFECTION SURGE DETECTED. TEMPORAL INTEGRITY COLLAPSE IMMINENT."
"ALL PRIMARY FUNCTIONS ONLINE. ZOMBIE CLASS ENTITIES DETECTED. EXPERIENCE GAIN UNLOCKED."
The infection spread like a flash fire. In the space of one minute, the gathering crowd had turned into a mob of grasping, lurching figures. Sirens wailed, and then abruptly died out. The sounds of breaking glass and human panic replaced the everyday noise.
The First Kill
Dohyun didn't hesitate. He was caught outside, exposed, with a van full of food that was his and Yoona's only future.
He threw open the van door, ripping the Silent Pistol from its holster. He didn't have time for the rifle.
A newly infected woman—her face contorted, her eyes milky white—stumbled toward the van, drawn by the engine noise. She was slow, weak, and pathetic.
Dohyun aimed. The silent hiss of the pistol was a sound of absolute finality.
Pfff.
The small 9mm bullet struck the woman exactly where his Perception 17 and Marksmanship (Novice) guided it: the center of her forehead. The woman dropped instantly, her pathetic existence extinguished.
"Zombie Class Entity Eliminated. +1 SC (System Coin) Awarded. +50 XP Awarded."
The confirmation was chilling. The System demanded death. The world offered currency.
He had no time to process the first real zombie kill. A small group of three infected were stumbling around the van, attracted by the scent of warm blood and the movement.
He put two more bullets into the leading infected, aiming for the head, the only place that mattered. The third one, a young man in a school uniform, was faster. It lunged, its milky eyes fixed on Dohyun's face.
Dohyun didn't shoot. He shifted his weight, using his Agility 13 to side-step the lunge, and delivered a brutal, focused kick to the infected man's kneecap, then drove his silenced pistol butt into its temple. It dropped, stunned.
He didn't finish it. He threw the van into a screaming reverse, then slammed it forward, plowing through the chaos. He needed to get the supplies into the bunker and seal the blast doors.
The city was already lost. Cars were smashing into each other, people were screaming in agony, and everywhere, the lurching, newly risen dead were beginning their dreadful feast.
Dohyun checked his phone. No signal. The digital world was already gone.
He glanced at his System Status. Current SC: 3. Current XP: 150/2000.
The nightmare had returned. He was no longer just preparing for the end; he was living the zero hour. And he was outside his fortress.