Her voice was like the whisper of falling snow—gentle, sad, filled with dread. The other girls turned to Ethan as well. Even Maya's usual sarcasm faded. They had seen Ethan fight. Seen him command the battlefield like a warlord in the ruins. Without him, their little group felt like a fortress with crumbling walls.
Ethan met Luna's gaze. The softness in her voice touched something inside him, but he kept his tone resolute.
"I have to find my best friend," he said, his voice unwavering. "He might still be out there… alive. After that, I need to go home—check what's left, if anything. We've got a few days, maybe less, before I move out."
The words settled like a final bell toll. Even the emergency lights seemed dimmer.
But there was no room for sentiment in his heart right now. Not when every minute brought more danger.
Not when the world was changing faster than anyone could keep up.
The flickering ceiling light cast long shadows across the room, bathing the cracked walls and broken furniture in a haunting orange glow. Even in relative safety, the air carried the heavy weight of dread. It was never truly quiet in the apocalypse—somewhere, faint groans of the undead echoed beyond the concrete walls, reminding them that this fragile peace could shatter at any moment.
They had enough supplies for now—stacks of bottled water, canned goods, boxes of protein bars, and a few medical kits. But "enough" in a world that was falling apart simply meant "not dead yet." Everyone knew it. The girls didn't say it aloud, but the fear lingered behind their eyes. The truth was obvious: if Ethan left, they didn't know what their future would become.
Ethan looked at Luna. She was sitting near the window, the faint moonlight brushing across her soft face. Her long, dark hair glimmered like starlight, cascading over her shoulder, framing a delicate face that belonged more to a fantasy than a nightmare. Her eyes met his with a quiet intensity.
He wasn't just saying it for himself. With every memory of the previous Ethan now residing within him, he carried more than just a name—he carried a bond. The original Ethan's closest friend had stood by him through everything, and now that bond had become Ethan's own. Protecting him felt like more than a duty—it was a promise written into the soul of his new life.
Across the room, the girls sat in silence, their beauty dimmed only by sorrow. Grace leaned against the wall, her sculpted figure clad in tight, battle-worn tactical gear that hugged her toned curves. Her short, jet-black hair framed a sharp, commanding face—a warrior, forged in fire. Beside her, Luna looked more ethereal than ever, while Olivia—tall, graceful, with emerald eyes and silky hair—radiated a refined elegance that barely concealed the blade of her judgment.
But in that moment, their stunning features were painted with shadows of disappointment. The room seemed colder.
Then a voice cut through the tension like a match striking in the dark.
"Ethan," said William, stepping forward from the back of the room. "Let me come with you."
Everyone turned to look at him. William wasn't flashy. He didn't have Ethan's composure or Grace's presence. But he was steady, dependable—the kind of man who never complained, who did what had to be done.
"I want to follow you," he continued. "Whether it's finding your best friend or reaching your home. Maybe you'll need a driver. Or someone to haul gear, fix a tire, move bodies. I'll do all the heavy lifting—non-combat stuff. Just let me help."
Ethan looked him over thoughtfully. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and firm.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "My family's in the southern city—Nanning. It's far. Dangerous. We don't know what's out there. And like I've said before… I think the zombies are evolving. Faster. Smarter. Stronger."
He let that hang in the air. The girls who had considered going with him—Olivia, Ava, even Grace—shifted uncomfortably. The name "Nanning" sounded like a world away, a journey through hell itself.
But William didn't flinch. "I'm sure. I've made my decision."
Ethan gave a single nod. "Good. You're in."
He needed someone like William—not just muscle, but reliability. With someone handling the logistics, Ethan could focus on what he did best: leading, fighting, surviving.
Then he turned his gaze toward the remaining two newcomers—Aaron and Roby.
"What about them?" he asked, glancing at Grace. "You going to let them follow too?"
Grace's response came swiftly, her voice calm but sharp as a blade hidden beneath velvet.
"Aaron. Roby." She locked eyes with the two. "You've made it this far. You're safe. Now take your supplies… and leave."
Her words were honey and poison all at once. Spoken with beauty, but filled with finality.
Roby's mouth fell open. "Wait—what? You're kicking us out?" His face turned red with disbelief. "Why are you guys like this? My father—he's in charge of the Jiang Nan district!"
There was a beat of silence, followed by a visible wave of contempt.
Ethan's brow twitched slightly. Spoiled brat, he thought.
"What about your father?" Olivia said with a smirk, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Tell him to come rescue you then. Maybe send a helicopter. Or a limo."
Aaron turned to Roby with a frustrated shake of his head. "Let's just go, man."
With dignity still barely intact, he grabbed two hefty bags of supplies and slung one over Roby's shoulder. Roby, still grumbling under his breath, reluctantly followed.
But just as they reached the door, the skeleton in the corner stirred.
Ethan had given no command aloud, but his intent was clear—and his summoned undead always listened.
The creature took one slow step forward, the massive bone axe dragging slightly along the floor. A hollow sound echoed, like death itself walking.
Roby's face turned sheet white. "WAIT! I'm going, I'm going!" he yelped, snatching the bags and bolting for the hallway.
Aaron followed closely behind, silent and humiliated. The door slammed shut behind them.
Ava exhaled and stepped forward, locking the bolt with a metallic click. The sound of finality.
And just like that… the room was quieter again. Safer. But no less uncertain.
Ethan stood in the hallway for a moment, then turned to Luna with a casual question:
"Where am I sleeping tonight?"
Luna's cheeks flushed the lightest pink, and her lips curved into a soft smile that was both shy and inviting. She tucked a lock of silver-blonde hair behind her ear, then nodded slightly. "Follow me."
She led him toward the back of the apartment, hips swaying slightly as she walked. The air in this part of the apartment was warmer, scented faintly with vanilla and jasmine. When she opened the door to her room, Ethan was momentarily taken aback.
The master bedroom was filled with soft light spilling in from a cracked window. It carried the fragrance of shampoo, flowers, and something distinctly her. The space was impossibly neat, every item placed with care. A plush bed with crisp white sheets and six or seven stuffed animals lined up at the headboard gave the room an almost dreamlike quality. The walls were decorated with polaroid photos and delicate string lights, and atop the dresser sat a jewelry box and a few books—romance novels, mostly.
"This is your room for tonight," Luna said quietly, her voice wrapped in nervous charm. She stood near the doorway, her figure silhouetted by the hallway's golden light. Her eyes sparkled with an unreadable emotion—shyness, curiosity, perhaps something more.
Ethan looked at her, sensing the weight of the moment. He knew this was her room. And this was the first time she had ever let a boy step inside it.
Without saying much else, Ethan nodded in thanks and stepped inside. He looked around once more before turning toward his silent, skeletal companion.
"Okay, buddy," he said, his voice firm. "Stand guard. No one enters without my say-so."
The Special Skeleton, standing behind Luna like a silent specter, moved with mechanical precision and took up position by the door. Its bony fingers tightened around the handle of its massive axe.
Ethan collapsed onto the soft bed, not even bothering to remove his jacket. His body was exhausted, every muscle screaming for rest. His mind had been racing all day—calculating, strategizing, fighting, surviving. He'd wanted to spend the night analyzing the deeper mechanics of the game-like system he'd found himself in… but his body simply refused.
As he sank into sleep, a final thought echoed through his mind:
"If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles..."
He would understand this world. He had to.
Outside the room, Luna watched for a few seconds, pouting slightly as she noticed he hadn't even removed his shoes before sprawling across her pristine white bedding. But the irritation faded when the Skeleton silently turned to face her. Gulping nervously, she backed out and closed the door.
No one would dare disturb Ethan tonight—not with that guardian outside.
---
Morning came early.
A thin sliver of golden sunlight streamed through the window, cutting across Ethan's closed eyes. He awoke not with panic, but with calm clarity. The light haze of sleep lifted, and he sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Sleep really is the most effective recovery tool," he muttered. A glance at his status confirmed it—stamina fully restored.
Rising to his feet, he finally peeled off his jacket and stretched, feeling the strength surge back into his limbs. He walked toward the bedroom door and opened it.
The Skeleton was right there, standing still like a monolithic guardian, not having moved an inch throughout the night. Its empty eye sockets locked onto Ethan the moment the door creaked open.
Ethan smirked. "Loyal to a fault, aren't you?"
Then, an idea struck him.
"You've been with me through everything so far. It's time you had a name." He thought for a moment. "From now on… your name is Spawn. After my favorite superhero. May your story be just as epic."
The Skeleton nodded—just slightly—but the glint of eerie light in its eyes held something more… perhaps approval?
Ethan grinned. "Tomorrow, we'll start testing your limits. Learn your skills. Learn your instincts. We're going to figure out everything—together."
They walked into the living room, where the early morning light was streaming in through the cracked blinds. On the couch, William was sprawled out, snoring lightly with one arm over his eyes.
"Get up! I've got something to say!" Ethan barked sharply.
William jolted awake, nearly falling off the couch.
Ethan didn't stop there. He walked briskly to the other two bedrooms, knocking firmly on the doors.
"Up! Meeting in the living room. Now!"
Ten minutes later, all the girls had gathered. They still looked tired but impossibly gorgeous in that half-woken, tousled-haired way. Luna wore a loose hoodie that slipped off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin. Olivia had her hair braided messily, eyes alert despite her drowsiness. Ava and Maya wore form-fitting tank tops and leggings, their natural beauty shining even without makeup.
And then there was Grace—ever composed, ever regal. She stood with arms folded, a calm expression on her face, dressed in sleek tactical black. Her eyes locked with Ethan's.
Ethan's gaze moved across the group before settling on her. "Grace," he began, his tone deeper now, more resolute, "we're safe here for the moment. But our agreement still stands. I want to leave today. I need to find my best friend. He might still be alive out there."
The room was quiet for a moment.
Grace stepped forward, nodding once with grace and certainty. "Yes. I'm coming with you."
There was no hesitation. No drama. Just a simple confirmation—one soldier to another.
The others exchanged glances, unsure of what would happen next. But for Ethan, the next stage had already begun.
He had survived the first day.
Ethan turned to the others gathered in the living room, his voice firm and unwavering.
"We're heading out again today," he said, scanning their faces. "So I'll ask just once—what about the rest of you? Are you going to stay here... or will you fight beside us?"
He let the question hang in the air like a blade suspended over silence.
His gaze swept across the room.
"We need to be clear. Today's battles will be harder than yesterday. More intense. More dangerous. The stakes are higher. One wrong move—one scratch—is all it takes to become one of them."
A chill passed through the room. The reality of his words was suffocating.
For a moment, no one replied. Other than William, who was already tightening the straps on his fate, the others stood frozen. The silence wasn't just hesitation—it was fear. The kind of raw, primal fear that gnawed at your bones and whispered in your ears.
Zombies weren't just monsters.
They were a sentence. A transformation. A nightmare you could become.
Even seasoned men sometimes faltered. What chance did a group of young women have, many of whom had never held a real weapon until yesterday?
Just when Ethan thought no one else would step forward, a soft voice cut through the silence.
"I'll go."
It was Luna.
She stepped forward, her dark hair gleaming in the sunlight, her eyes calm but filled with quiet determination. The delicate lines of her face contrasted sharply with the firmness in her tone.
"I want to fight," she said again. "I want to get stronger."
Ethan gave a slight nod, studying her. Luna wasn't fearless—no one was—but her resolve impressed him. She understood what many others didn't yet: in this world, self-reliance was everything. No one was coming to save them.
Even if she wanted to lean on others, she knew she first had to prove she was worth standing beside.
After a pause, Olivia looked up from where she had been gently adjusting Maya's blanket. The younger girl was still feverish, curled up on the couch with her forehead glistening with sweat.
"I'll stay behind," Olivia said, her dark lashes blinking as she looked from Luna to Ethan. "Maya needs someone here. She can't even walk on her own. If I went out there, I'd only slow you down."
A moment later, Ava followed suit. "I'll stay too. Someone has to hold this place down, and Maya shouldn't be left with just one person. I'll watch Olivia's back—and the door."
Ethan nodded approvingly, his voice dropping into a serious tone. "Then listen carefully. Lock the door behind us. No one comes in unless it's us. No matter what you hear. No matter how long we're gone."
He looked at both girls with intensity.
"Keep weapons close—knives, scissors, anything. If it comes down to it, don't hesitate. Survive."
Without another word, he turned toward the hallway and strode out, his skeletal guardian—Spawn—clanking softly behind him like a silent knight.
Grace, Luna, and William followed, each with their own quiet determination. The moment the apartment door slammed shut, a weight seemed to lift off the space they left behind.
---
Outside, the city was rotting.
Cars sat at awkward angles on the streets, their windows shattered, their doors ajar. A few broken store signs swayed in the wind. Blood stained the sidewalks like a violent mural painted by chaos itself.
And in the distance—the ever-present groans of the undead.
A massive, rugged school bus stood waiting in the parking lot. Reinforced with scrap metal along the windows, the tires were thick and worn. Luna climbed into the driver's seat without hesitation, brushing her hair behind her ear as she adjusted the cracked rearview mirror.
With a deep rumble, the engine came to life.
The sound alone was like a beacon.
From every corner of the street, shapes began to move. Slow, twitching, jerking forms—zombies.
Their heads snapped in the direction of the noise. Groans grew louder. Dozens began staggering toward the source like insects drawn to fire.
Luna gritted her teeth, threw the gear into drive, and slammed her foot on the gas.
"Brace yourselves!" she shouted.
The school bus surged forward like a freight train, its reinforced bumper smashing into the nearest zombies. Bones cracked like dry branches. Bodies flew across the pavement, leaving smears of black-red blood behind them.
As more undead swarmed into the street, the wheels churned over limbs and torsos. The shocks creaked under the weight of dozens of impacts.
Inside, Grace stood beside Ethan, watching through the narrow windshield with sharp, calculating eyes. William clutched the side rail with white knuckles.
"Only half a tank left," Luna called out over the roar of the engine. "We're running low!"
Ethan, standing steady in the aisle like a commander aboard a warship, replied without missing a beat.
"Can we make it to Zhong Hai University and then to the gas station in Jiang Nan?"
Luna didn't even glance back. "We'll be cutting it close—but yes. I'm confident we'll make it."
"Then Zhong Hai University first," Ethan ordered. "We're not turning back."
---
The drive took them deeper into chaos.
Unlike Qinghua, Zhong Hai University was famous—one of the nation's top institutions. Always busy. Always crowded. Which meant one thing:
More people.
And now… more zombies.
As the campus came into view, it was immediately clear that this place had become a nightmare. The elegant stone gates stood cracked and scorched. The once-beautiful courtyard was littered with overturned tables, shattered glass, and the decomposing remains of students who hadn't made it.
Zombies were everywhere—hundreds of them.
Like flies to a corpse, they wandered aimlessly until the roar of the bus snapped them to life.
They began turning.
Groaning.
Staggering toward the vehicle in growing numbers.
Luna's face tightened. "This many? Already?"
"Drive through!" Ethan shouted.
She hit the gas again, and the reinforced bus plowed through the outer horde. Bodies slammed against the sides, bones breaking under wheels. The smell was indescribable—blood, rot, engine smoke.
The shocks creaked violently.
"They're going to slow us down!" William shouted, pointing to several larger zombies—former athletes perhaps—who were heavier, faster, their bodies less decayed.
"I see them," Ethan growled, eyes narrowing. "Spawn, get ready!"
The Skeleton took position near the emergency door, axe in hand, anticipating a breach.
As the bus forced its way toward the main building, Ethan looked out the side window.
This place had once been filled with promise, laughter, dreams.
Now… it was a graveyard.
And the real fight was about to begin.