Exiting the gates, the heavy metal doors groaned behind me as they closed with a thud. I stepped onto the overgrown road, the humid Florida air clinging to my skin, the sound of cicadas buzzing in the trees around me. My hand rested on the hilt of my sword, my senses sharp. I was heading to the location where Troy left the two controlled walkers.
Even without seeing them yet, I could feel them.
It was strange—this connection. Through the system, like an invisible thread tied from me to them. Not physical, not emotional, but something deeper. I didn't even need to see them to know they were nearby. They were mine.
After trekking through some trees and weaving through dense underbrush, I spotted them—still standing in the shadows as I ordered, still silent, unmoving. My undead soldiers.
"Alright, boys. Let's get to work."
I had an idea.
Instead of me doing all the hunting, what if they fetched more walkers? A test of command. I focused on them and issued a new order, a simple mental command:
"Bring me more."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, the system interface flickered in front of me:
Command accepted. Dispatching controlled walkers to attract targets.
So it listens to me and acts as the medium? Interesting.
Minutes passed. Then I heard it—shuffling, groaning. My two undead returned... with over 30 walkers trailing behind them like lost souls. It was eerie, watching them move with unnatural calm, herding their own kind.
"Let's get started."
I raised my sword.
The first one lunged—I pivoted and slashed across its neck. Clean. The next, I stabbed through the forehead. Again and again, like a grim dance. I didn't flinch. I didn't hesitate. I moved.
When it was done, 30 corpses lay motionless at my feet.
You have killed 30 walkers. You may now control 3 additional walkers.
"Perfect."
I took a few moments to rest. Then, I resumed.
Hours passed, daylight waned, and by pacing myself, I eventually racked up a total of 100 confirmed kills.
Controlled Walkers Available: 10
Sweat ran down my face. My arms were sore, my breathing heavy, but my mind was sharp. This power… it was only beginning.
Now came the second part of the plan.
I wanted to create a vanguard of stronger walkers—bigger, more intimidating, maybe even mutated if I could find one. I needed monsters, not just corpses. So far, all I've found were ordinary infected—slow, rotting, but fragile.
I stared down the cracked road ahead, flipping open the map I brought with me.
Pine Town. A nearby rural town. If I was going to find tougher walkers—or anything mutated—it would be there. More people. More chaos. Maybe even the start of evolution.
I packed up my gear, whistled low to summon the 2 walkers under my control, and pointed toward the road.
"Pine Town, boys. Let's go hunting."
few minutes later…
I arrived at Pine Town.
From the outskirts, it looked like your typical quiet American town—small homes, shops, and diners. But now? It was crawling with the dead.
As I entered a street, I saw several walkers banging on the doors of a few houses. That meant only one thing—survivors. People were still inside, trying to stay alive.
I needed a better vantage point.
I scanned the surroundings and spotted a two-story diner with a rooftop sign. Perfect. I motioned silently for my controlled walkers to wait below, then climbed up a side ladder I found half-hidden behind a dumpster.
"Sorry, boys," I muttered with a chuckle as I reached the roof. "You're not exactly built for climbing."
From the rooftop, I had a clear view of the town center. I pulled out my binoculars and scanned the streets. Walkers were everywhere… but five of them caught my attention.
They were different—bulkier, and broader. Rugby players, maybe.
I focused on them.
Target Identified.
I didn't even need to be close. The system responded instantly to what I could see.
That gave me an idea. What if I used a sniper scope or high-powered optics? That would increase my acquisition range massively. That's something I'd have to experiment with later.
"Alright," I muttered to the system. "Separate them from the herd."
With a soft mental ping, the five bulky walkers began peeling away from the crowd, slowly drifting away from the houses they were banging on.
There were survivors inside those houses. I'd deal with that later.
Right now, I was collecting soldier's.
Back at the Federation
Dawn was approaching.
The sky was turning grey-blue, the stars fading into the morning light. But Marcus hadn't returned.
Near the gate, Max was pacing back and forth, agitation written all over his face. Troy stood beside him, arms crossed, silent and tense.
"This is on you, Troy," Max snapped. "You let him go. Alone."
Troy didn't answer.
Max spun toward the gate guards. "Get a search party ready. Gear up. We're going to find him."
Just as the guards began to move, Ray and Jessy arrived. They looked just as pissed off.
"He left… and didn't tell us anything," Jessy said, jaw tight. "Doesn't he trust us?"
Ray held up a hand. "Let's calm down. Marcus… he wouldn't do this without a reason. He's always thinking ahead."
"He shouldn't have gone alone," Max growled. "The world's not what it used to be! Walkers, looters, worse—he could be dead out there!"
Ray looked him in the eye. "He knew the risks the moment he stepped out that gate. I trust him. You should too."
Jessy added, " Marcus doesn't act on impulse. Whatever he's doing… it must be important."
Max let out a long breath. "Fine. But if anything happens to him."
Troy finally spoke. "I'll take full responsibility."
Max looked, then walked away.
Ray looked at Troy. "Rough day, huh?"
Troy gave a dry, bitter smile. "You could say that."
Jessy folded her arms. "Still, he should've told us. We're supposed to be his brothers."
Troy didn't respond at first.
Because deep down, he knew the truth.
He knew about Marcus' ability. The walkers. The control.
But how could he explain it to them? Would they even believe him?
Troy looked away. No. Not yet. This one… this one's Marcus' to reveal.
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