A girl stuck her head out from a third-floor window of the neighboring dorm, her eyes wide with fear. She held up a piece of white paper, hands trembling. Scribbled on it in bold red marker were the words:
"SOS. PLEASE HELP US."
The message flapped in the breeze.
Everyone paused.
Maya turned to Ethan, biting her lip.
"What now...? Do you want to go save them?"
The other girls looked to Ethan, hearts torn. To ignore them would leave a permanent stain on their conscience. But to help… could mean risking everything they'd just fought for.
Ethan's mind raced—analyzing time, distance, zombie activity, the viability of the escape route. His brain operated like a battlefield general calculating victory odds on the fly.
He inhaled deeply.
"Stay sharp," he muttered.
His eyes narrowed.
There was no easy answer—but they were not alone in this world. And Ethan wasn't the kind of man who abandoned people without weighing all the options.
After thinking it through, Ethan gave a firm shake of his head and spoke with a blunt finality:
"No. It's already hard enough just keeping ourselves alive. First, we need to find a secure location to hole up. Only then—only if we have spare strength left—can we even consider going back for them. Trying to bring them with us now will only raise the odds of some of us dying. And besides, they're at least safe up there for the time being."
He wasn't being cold—just practical.
Ethan and Grace already had their hands full protecting the four girls they'd found. That alone was a dangerous challenge. Adding more to the group at this moment would be suicide and murder.
Turning to the windows above, Ethan raised his voice toward the girls still trapped in the dormitories. "You there! If I have anything left in the tank later, I will come back for you. But for now—defend yourselves. Hold on."
He then looked at the four frightened girls beside him—Olivia, Luna, Ava, and Maya—and spoke in a tone that brokered no argument.
"Let's move. Grace, you and the Skeleton take the front with me. I'll leave these four fish in the net to you."
With that, Ethan sprinted forward with the Skeleton clattering alongside him, their strides slicing through the crimson twilight like wolves on the hunt.
"Hurry, now!"
Grace's sharp voice cut through the tension as she urged the girls forward. They didn't hesitate—everyone understood that this was a make-or-break moment.
The four girls ran close behind Ethan. They were a striking sight even amid the chaos: Luna's flowing black curls streamed behind her like a silk banner, Olivia's dark lashes framed eyes filled with fear yet determination, Ava's toned dancer's legs moved with surprising grace, and Maya—though trembling—possessed a raw beauty with soft features and long, raven-black hair that made her look delicate, almost noble.
Grace circled them like a hawk, scanning for danger from all directions, a protective barrier of steel and instinct.
---
Back on the fourth floor of the dormitory building, a girl pressed her trembling hands over her mouth to suppress a sob. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched Ethan's figure vanish below. Her red-rimmed eyes were wide with despair, her knuckles white.
That was her last chance. The noise when Ethan and his group had broken into the dorm had stirred hope—a fleeting spark in this hellscape. But now, that spark was leaving her behind.
Her body quivered as she tried not to cry out.
"Nikki, don't cry. He said he would come back for us, remember?"
A tall girl with sleek, jet-black hair stepped beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Her voice was gentle, but her eyes betrayed the same anxiety.
Lucia wiped her tears and replied softly, "I know… but this place… it's so dangerous. What if he can't make it back?"
Nikki gave a small, confident smile. "Don't worry. That guy—his name is Ethan Chan. He's solid. I know him. If he says he'll come back, then he'll come back. We just have to believe in him… and hang on."
Lucia looked at her in surprise. "You know him?"
"Of course. I was the one who got him his last job before this nightmare started."
"Tell me more about him."
Lucia clung to Nikki's words like a lifeline. In this tension-filled dorm surrounded by death, a little distraction—especially one filled with hope—was something she desperately needed.
Nikki leaned in, her voice a whisper. "Alright, listen closely. Ethan might not look like much on the surface, but he's got more guts than half the army…"
---
Outside, Ethan and the Skeleton charged toward the distant school bus like predators clearing a path through the undead jungle.
The four girls trailed closely behind, trying to match their pace. But soon, the scent of rotting flesh hit them again. From the shadowed corridors and broken windows, zombies began to emerge—shambling, snarling, their skin ripped and their faces twisted in eternal hunger.
The sight froze the girls mid-step. Their eyes widened in terror, legs growing weak as the horror of it all washed over them.
Grace didn't hesitate. "Run faster! Don't stop!"
Her voice cut through the fog of fear like a whip.
Ethan had already killed the leading zombies up front, slicing through the first wave with brutal efficiency, but the threat was far from over. Grace now bore the burden of keeping the rear and flanks secure—and she knew that one mistake could mean death.
If even a single zombie slipped through and the girls faltered, the outcome would be fatal.
Spurred by Grace's shout, the girls picked up the pace, adrenaline overriding hesitation.
But then it happened.
Maya's foot caught a small pebble on the road—barely visible in the light. She slipped and cried out in pain as she crashed down hard, twisting her ankle.
"M-My foot! Help! Please—someone help me!"
She tried to rise, but the pain was too sharp. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she reached out.
Olivia looked at her for a split second, then made a snap decision—she kept running.
Surrounded by zombies, there was no room for hesitation. She wasn't heartless—just terrified.
But Luna and Ava weren't the same. Both stopped and rushed back without a second thought.
"Come on, Maya!" Ava said breathlessly as she hooked an arm under Maya's shoulder.
Luna grabbed her other side, her hair sticking to her sweaty face. "We're not leaving you behind!"
They hauled Maya up and began moving again, though their pace had clearly slowed. The trio struggled forward, but already exhaustion was setting in. After barely ten meters, they were panting heavily, their legs wobbling.
Then—like a shadow—Ethan returned.
He reappeared as if from nowhere, eyes scanning the situation with practiced sharpness. Without missing a beat, he knelt and swept Maya into his arms with ease.
"I've got her," he said gruffly, nodding to Ava and Luna. "Follow my skeleton. Stay sharp."
Both girls gasped in relief, grateful beyond words. "Be careful," they murmured in unison, before hurrying after the bone warrior that had turned back to guard them.
Ethan sprinted with Maya in his arms, his steps steady, expression unreadable. His mind was already racing—calculating routes, estimating threats, keeping count of how many seconds remained before the next nightmare came charging around the corner.
"Grab this! Then get on my back!" Ethan shouted, tossing the heavy backpack toward Maya.
Without hesitation, Maya clutched the backpack to her chest and quickly scrambled onto Ethan's back. Her slender arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, pressing her soft body close against him. The scent of her light perfume, mixed with adrenaline and fear, clung faintly to her skin. Ethan felt the full weight of her—and the backpack stuffed with emergency supplies—dragging down on him like a boulder. If not for his enhanced physical strength, he would have collapsed under the strain.
"Hold on tight," he said grimly. "If you fall, I won't be able to catch you."
Maya nodded wordlessly, burying her face near the crook of his neck, her heart pounding wildly. A warm sense of security washed over her as Ethan took off in a sprint.
'He's so strong... so steady. If only... he were my boyfriend.'
The thought floated through her mind like a quiet whisper, shameful yet sincere.
Ahead of them, the upgraded Skeleton—now Level 7 and far more fearsome than before—was hacking a bloody path through the undead with brutal efficiency. Its axe gleamed with gore, cleaving through necks and splitting skulls as zombie bodies crumpled to the asphalt in broken, twitching heaps.
The undead wailed and shrieked, but the Skeleton's power was undeniable. With 60% more physical strength than an average human, it carved a savage trail of bodies.
Ethan raced through that opening, his body moving with unnatural speed. Enhanced several times over, he now moved with the ferocity of a wild dog and the precision of a human. He charged toward the school bus like a storm, legs pumping, heart pounding, Maya clinging to him every step of the way.
The instant they reached the bus, Ethan leapt up the steps and practically collapsed inside. He gently lowered Maya to one of the seats, her cheeks flushed, eyes wide with both exhaustion and awe.
Then, pulling the keys from his pocket, he tossed them to Luna. "Drive—now!"
"Got it!" Luna replied, catching the keys effortlessly. She slipped into the driver's seat with the confidence of someone who had done this a hundred times before, turned the ignition, and fired up the engine.
"Olivia, Ava—take care of Maya," Ethan commanded, already sliding into a seat to catch his breath.
Ava immediately rushed to Maya's side, gently helping her steady the pack and checking for injuries. Olivia, on the other hand, hesitated—guilt swimming in her eyes. She had run when Maya had been in danger, and now the weight of that cowardice lingered heavily on her expression.
Grace sat across from Ethan, her long dark hair shimmering faintly in the sunlight that filtered through the grimy windows. With one perfectly manicured hand, she reached forward and said with a lazy smile, "Water."
Ethan let out a wry chuckle and dug into the pack. Instead of water, he handed her a cold can of Coke. Grace accepted it with a small, satisfied smirk.
"Where to now? Are we heading to my place?" Luna asked from behind the wheel, her long black ponytail swaying slightly as she looked back.
"No. Hit the small supermarket up ahead first. We need more supplies. Without food and medicine, we won't last long," Ethan said firmly, then turned to Olivia. "Come here and explain how the controls work. I need to learn how to drive this beast."
Olivia's face lit up at being called over. She quickly made her way to Ethan's side and started walking him through the basics of vehicle control: ignition, throttle, braking, gear shifts. Though her movements were a little awkward at first—still tense from the guilt—her voice grew steadier as she talked.
Ethan, for his part, absorbed it quickly. His mind, sharpened by survival and the decisions he had to make since the outbreak, grasped the concepts with lightning speed. The fundamentals were easy. The real challenge, he realized, was not mechanical.
It was survival.
The rules of the road no longer applied. What mattered now was raw instinct, brute force, and relentless focus.
In fact the hardest part of driving is the rules of the road. How to start the car, stop, accelerate, and braking are not difficult.
But of course, with Ethan driving skills, would only be a killer on the road.
As Luna drove, Ethan kept his eyes locked on the road and the world outside—if it could still be called a road. Zombies flooded the streets like a tide of flesh and rot.
The school bus roared forward, its engine bellowing like a war beast. Reinforced bumpers smashed through the undead ranks with terrifying force. Bodies exploded on impact—limbs flying, skulls caving in, blood and ichor painting the windshield in a hideous collage of death.
Ethan grabbed a dirty rag from the floor and wiped away a thick smear of gore on his sword as he spoke aloud to no one in particular, "This is efficient, but…"
His eyes flicked to the side mirror, watching the trail of carnage left in their wake. Dozens of zombie corpses lay crushed behind them—twitching, broken, unmoving.
But no flash of white light.
No glowing System notification.
No Survival Coin.
No level-up.
Nothing.
He frowned. A dangerous thought settled in the back of his mind.
"So I can't gain experience through vehicles…" he muttered, anger bubbling inside him.
His fingers tightened on the edge of the seat, eyes narrowing.
The System has rules. Hidden conditions. Maybe it only rewards personal effort. Danger. Struggle. It doesn't reward safety. It doesn't care if I run them over from a distance. That's not enough.
His plan—use brute force, heavy wheels, and reinforced steel to crush everything in his path—was efficient, yes. But it wasn't rewarded. He was starting to understand now.
The System didn't want survivors.
It wanted warriors.
And if he wanted to get stronger, he'd have to bleed for it.
His eyes swept across the blood-slicked asphalt once more. Not a single glowing orb. No shimmering essence. Not even a faint flicker in the air that might signal the reward of experience.
"If I want to survive… I need to understand how this system works," Ethan muttered under his breath, gripping the seat tighter. "What are the actual conditions for leveling up? Is it direct combat? Magic output? Physical exertion? Or maybe… there's a hidden damage threshold I have to cross with my own hands…"
His voice was low, barely audible under the rumble of the school bus engine, but it echoed in his mind like a riddle he refused to leave unanswered.
He wasn't just frustrated—he was hooked. The logical part of his brain, once trained for mechanical systems and engineering, was now fully locked onto this mystery. There was a pattern here. There had to be. And until he cracked the code, he'd be stuck in neutral.
And in a world like this, stagnation wasn't just dangerous—it was fatal.
Luna, perched quietly on the passenger seat beside him, glanced his way. She felt the change in the atmosphere—the simmering tension radiating off him. But she didn't speak. She didn't have to.
Up ahead, another small cluster of the undead stumbled across the road—shambling, crooked silhouettes beneath the blood-red sky.
Luna didn't slow down.
The bus barreled forward, tires screeching. A sickening crunch rang out as steel and rubber met rotting flesh. Skulls popped, bones shattered, limbs flew. Blood splattered across the cracked windshield, painting a grotesque mural of death.
Still… nothing.
No EXP notification. No reward. No sign of progress.
Ethan's jaw clenched.
"So that's how it is," he growled. "I can't cheese the system. It wants danger. It wants me on the front lines."
The old school bus rumbled around the next corner and rolled to a stop in front of a small, partially looted supermarket. Its cracked sign flickered dimly, and most of the windows were either boarded or shattered.
Ethan stood up and gave orders with no hesitation.
"Luna, stay behind the wheel. Engine on, foot ready. If anything goes wrong, you punch it—no hesitation."
Luna gave a sharp nod, her golden eyes narrowing in focus.
"Olivia, Ava—you're with me. You two are on supply duty. Water, high-calorie canned goods, and medical supplies if they're in reach. Grace, you're with me—we're cover."
With that, he leapt out of the bus, landing on the cracked concrete with fluid grace. Grace followed immediately after, her elegant figure gliding down like a shadow. Even in this chaos, there was a poised deadliness in her steps, the kind you'd see in a trained predator.
Ava and Olivia exchanged a look, then broke into a run—boots slapping pavement as their long hair trailed behind them like flowing banners. Their beauty was almost surreal in the dim light: Olivia's ponytail bouncing against her back, her toned figure tightly hugged by a makeshift combat vest, and Ava's blonde strands glinting like sunlight against her soft, porcelain skin. Both moved with the precision of women who had adapted to this new world.
"Ethan! The entrance is blocked!" Olivia shouted.
The girls had reached the supermarket's front, only to find the entryway jammed with overturned shelves, furniture, and debris stacked high like a makeshift barricade.
Ethan narrowed his eyes, analyzing the situation in a heartbeat.
He pointed to a cracked metal pole near the edge of the building. "There. Clear it."
The skeletal warrior, his loyal summon, silently obeyed. With a two-handed grip on his battle-bloody axe, he swung.
CRACK! BANG!
The glass walls around the building shattered violently, raining down in glittering shards. Dust billowed into the air as metal supports groaned under the force. A large gap was torn open, wide enough for two people to pass through side by side.
The supermarket was now fully exposed—no longer a fortress of scavenged supplies, but an open carcass waiting to be picked clean.
It was at that moment that voices called out from within.
"Ethan? Is that really you?"
A young man stumbled out from the shadows. His clothes were fixed, his face gaunt but alight with recognition.
Behind him was another youth—taller, with messy hair and a forced smile.
"Grace! I'm Roby. Third year. I… uh… we met in biology class, remember?" Roby stepped forward awkwardly, trying to sound confident, puffing out his chest in a laughably forced display of masculinity.
Grace barely spared him a glance.
"Hello," she replied with a voice as cold as the steel in her boots.
Roby blinked, clearly deflated. But Aaron, the other student, approached Ethan with more sincerity, eyes wide with admiration.
"Man… you actually brought the whole damn school bus here?" Aaron said, looking from Ethan to the vehicle. "With this, we could really escape the city… I mean, this is huge!"
Ethan didn't even acknowledge him.
Instead, he turned and walked calmly toward Olivia and Ava. His gaze was sharp, focused.
"Prioritize water, canned protein, dried carbs. Leave the snacks unless they're calorie-dense. Get a move on."
The girls nodded and moved with practiced coordination, slipping into the exposed supermarket without hesitation.
But Roby, still trying to prove something, puffed up and stepped forward again.
"Seriously, Ethan? You're just going to stand there while the girls haul everything?"
Ethan turned his head slightly.
Roby kept going, louder this time. "You're the guy, aren't you? Shouldn't you be doing the heavy lifting? Letting them sweat while you relax? That's disgraceful, man! You call yourself a man?"
Ava and Olivia stopped mid-step. Both slowly turned to stare at Roby.
There was no pity in their eyes—only cold, deadly amusement. Like lionesses watching a gazelle trip over its own legs.
Ethan's eyes locked onto Roby. His tone was flat, but beneath it was something deadly.
"This is my group," he said quietly. "You're not part of it."
Roby opened his mouth to protest—but Ethan stepped forward, and the atmosphere dropped several degrees.
"If you've got a problem with how we do things, I suggest you keep it to yourself. Or you can take your righteous little speech and go stand outside. See how long you last out there."
He turned back toward the girls, his voice razor-sharp. "If either of you thinks I'm wrong, you can stay here with him and the others. I won't stop you."
A cold, suffocating silence followed. Even the wind seemed to die down.
Then Olivia stepped forward, brushing a few strands of hair from her cheek.
"Roby, do you even hear yourself?" she began, her tone simmering with disbelief and barely-contained anger. "Do you realize how stupid you sound right now?"
She walked up to him, jabbing a finger toward his chest—not touching him, but close enough to make him flinch.
"Ethan fought his way through zombies to get us out of that dorm. Do you know what that takes? Do you even understand what it means to face death up close—again and again—just so the rest of us could have a chance?"
She turned her gaze back to Ethan for a moment, just briefly, before focusing again on Roby.
"He's not some robot. He's a person. He gets tired. He bleeds. If he wastes his stamina carrying supplies like you want, and something happens, then what? When zombies attack—because they will attack—who's going to protect us? You? With your self-righteous speeches and zero fighting skills?"
She scoffed loudly.
"This isn't some school project or debate club where you get points for talking nice. This is life or death. You either contribute in the way you can—or you get people killed. And if you don't understand that, then you're too stupid to survive in this world."
Her eyes narrowed as she finished, her voice calm now, but firm. "We're not children. We can pull our weight. That's the least we can do while Ethan keeps risking everything."
She didn't wait for a reply. With one final glance at Ethan—one that lingered a heartbeat longer than it needed to—she turned and walked back into the supermarket.
Ava gave Roby a disbelieving look and said quietly, "Yeah. Stupid doesn't even begin to cover it," before following Olivia.
Roby stood there, mouth slightly open, completely deflated. He didn't speak again.
"Ethan, you're not… you're not seriously planning to leave without us, are you?"
Aaron's voice trembled, his face drained of color as he stared at Ethan with disbelief.
Ethan's gaze was cold and unyielding as he stood at the doorway of the bus, arms crossed.
"When I asked whether any of you were willing to help retrieve this school bus or stay behind and wait for a miracle, I gave you a choice. You chose to sit here and wait for the military. Then wait. Maybe, eventually, the government will come and save the brave survivors of this place."
His voice sharpened like a blade. "But this bus? It's too small to carry people who didn't lift a single finger when it mattered."
The group fell silent. They could feel the line Ethan had drawn—between those who fought and those who freeloaded.
Aaron opened his mouth, but it was Roby who snapped first.
"How the hell can you be so selfish?! This is a damn school bus—it doesn't belong to you! Shouldn't we be helping each other out right now?"
Roby's face turned red with rage, his voice cracking. "I have just as much right to get on as you!"
And then, without warning, Roby made a run for the bus.
But he didn't get far.
Crack!
Ethan stepped forward with the speed of a whip, his hand slamming hard against Roby's cheek. The spoiled boy crashed to the ground, clutching his face as it began to swell instantly.
"There's more than one bus in this school," Ethan said, voice as cold as the grave. "If you want one, go fetch it from the jaws of the undead like I did. I wrestled this from a horde. You? You were hiding behind a desk."
He turned away in disgust, then barked one final warning. "You're not welcome on this ride. Crawl back to your corner."
THUD!
The Skeleton stepped forward at Ethan's signal, its glowing eye sockets burning with cold intent. With an earsplitting roar, the axe it carried slammed into the ground just inches from Roby's face. The wind from the swing alone sent Roby reeling back, his pants damp with fear.
Aaron and William were frozen. The skeleton loomed silently beside Ethan, like a demon summoned from the underworld. Its presence made the rules of the old world seem like distant dreams.
Calling the police? Filing a complaint?
None of that meant anything now. This was a new world—and it had no place for cowards.
Ethan didn't spare them another glance. His instincts were already firing.
"Grace, keep an eye on them," he said, voice steady. "I'm heading out. That glass we shattered earlier, along with the bus engine—it drew attention. The undead are coming. We can't afford to get surrounded."
Grace stepped forward confidently, her figure slender yet strong beneath the full university uniform she wore—tight-fitting, protective, yet somehow elegant. Her glossy dark hair was tied back in a swift ponytail, and her emerald eyes sparkled with calm intelligence. The form-fitting uniform hugged her great curves while still offering full coverage against scratches and bites—practical, but undeniably gorgeous.
She twirled her novice staff with finesse, and her lips curled into a half-smile.
"Leave this place to me," she said smoothly, stepping in front of the trio. "I'll make sure they behave. You be careful, alright?"
Ethan nodded, locking eyes with her for a second. No further words were needed.
With a sharp breath, he and the Skeleton sprinted out of the bus like a pair of predators unleashed.
The moment they emerged, a tide of shambling corpses greeted them. Dozens of zombies were already dragging themselves across the cracked schoolyard, groaning hungrily, drawn by the commotion.
But Ethan didn't hesitate.
He leapt straight into their ranks, his Straightblade flashing with precision and speed.
Like a tiger let loose in a flock of sheep, he danced between the walking corpses, slicing throats, cleaving skulls, and stabbing straight into rotted brain stems with deadly efficiency. Every movement was swift, calculated—a testament to his sharpened instincts and increasing strength.
Behind him, the Skeleton fought like a mechanical reaper. With thunderous swings, its battle-axe cleaved through undead torsos, heads flying, limbs tumbling. Each strike sent tremors through the ground. The sound of shattering bones echoed like war drums.
Balls of white light—the life energy of the undead—poured into Ethan and the Skeleton's bodies with each kill, feeding their power.
Aaron's eyes widened in awe. "He's… even stronger now."
He could see it clearly—Ethan was growing, evolving. Compared to just a few hours ago, he moved with more confidence, more decisiveness.
Like someone born to command the battlefield.
As the zombie horde thinned, the only sounds left were the heavy breaths of Ethan, the low groan of a dying undead—and the stunned silence of those who watched him.