"Luna! Come on, show us!" Ava said, bouncing on her toes beside her. "Just a small fireball, please? Just one!"
Luna's excitement mirrored Ava's. Her hands were already twitching with the urge to test her new power. She raised one finger, gathering her will—
But Ethan's voice cut through like a blade.
"Stop."
They all froze.
"You can't waste it," he said seriously, stepping between them. "At your current level, you'll only be able to cast that fireball once a day. And we don't even know what the actual power output is yet."
He glanced at Luna with an arched brow. "Do you want to collapse after casting it and become a salted fish in the middle of a zombie horde?"
The girls blinked in confusion.
"A... salted fish?" Ava asked, puzzled.
"It means a dried-out, useless husk of a person who can't move," Ethan explained with a sigh. "Save your energy. Use the fireball when it matters."
Luna nodded, composing herself. "You're right. I'll wait."
Ethan glanced around at the group, noting the rising tension between the girls. He understood—jealousy in desperate times was a dangerous thing. But he couldn't afford to waste strength. He would give out skills when needed, but only to those who could control their emotions.
"Look, all of you," he said firmly. "There will be other skills. We'll grow stronger together. But only if we act as a team and not let petty envy destroy us from within. We're not just fighting zombies—we're fighting to hold on to our humanity."
The girls went silent. Luna clutched her chest where the magic had entered her. Olivia looked away. Ava bit her lip.
Ethan turned away, gripping the Straightblade once more, eyes narrowing as he listened for distant groans in the streets.
They were coming.
And he would be ready.
Ethan glanced at Grace, his voice calm yet filled with urgency. "Grace, how's your stamina recovery?"
Grace, without a hint of hesitation, looked him in the eye and replied, "Six points… out of twelve. It's hard to recover. My body feels like it's been through a meat grinder." Her voice carried a note of frustration, her slender shoulders visibly tense.
Ethan nodded, silently calculating their dwindling resources and the threat battering the doors outside. "You guys stay here and keep watch. I'm going to rest for a bit. We'll need full strength soon. Grace, wake me in ten minutes—no more, no less."
He pulled out an Apple of Vitality from his bag. The glossy crimson fruit shimmered faintly in the dim dorm room lighting, a symbol of rare magic in a world falling apart. He bit into it, the sweet juice running down his throat like fire and life itself, and finished it in a few quick bites before collapsing onto the bed.
Without hesitation, he laid back, shutting his eyes as the nourishment surged through his body. His limbs ached, his muscles screamed, but the magic was already doing its work.
But that wasn't just any bed.
Maya, the delicate beauty with a baby face and skin as pale as moonlight, let out a soft gasp. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink as she hugged her knees to her chest. "T-that's my bed…" she whispered, glancing down as if Ethan lying on it made it suddenly sacred.
Ethan was already half-asleep before his head even touched the pillow, his breathing deep and steady. He had fought nonstop since the early afternoon, his body pushed to its limits. The soft bed welcomed him like a cloud, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
Outside, the constant thud-thud of zombies hammering the dormitory door echoed like a grim metronome. Grace sat firm, stationed by the window, her gorgeous figure in full uniform outlined by the sunlight bleeding through the cracks. She was alert, eyes sharp, while the other girls huddled close to Ethan in fear, their beautiful faces pale, unsure when death might burst through the door.
Ten minutes passed. Grace gently nudged Ethan's shoulder.
"Time's up. Five minutes have passed," she said with a teasing smirk.
Ethan stirred, groaning as he cracked one eye open. "Already? Felt like two…"
He sat up with a wry smile, his jet-black hair slightly tousled. He checked his stamina—back to eleven points. Not full, but it would have to do. He didn't have the luxury of more rest.
Without wasting another second, he stood and pulled out a coiled climbing rope from his backpack. Spotting a secure metal beam across the window frame, he tied the rope tight and let it drop out into the dark.
"If you can't hold out any longer, climb down and escape through here," Ethan instructed the girls, his voice firm but reassuring. "Whatever happens, survive."
Then, without another word, he vaulted over the window ledge and rappelled down like a seasoned soldier.
Behind him, the skeletal warrior—a silent guardian—followed without pause, gripping the rope with unnatural steadiness.
As soon as Ethan touched the ground, the sharp scent of rot filled his nostrils. Four zombies immediately shambled toward him from the shadows, their eyes glazed with eternal hunger.
Drawing his new Straightblade, Ethan's eyes sharpened. He dashed forward like a phantom, his blade slicing in a clean, deadly arc. One zombie's head launched skyward in a spray of blackish-red gore.
"Now that's a real weapon," he muttered to himself with a grin, admiring the weight and balance. The Straightblade cut smoother than the old staff ever did—it halved the energy needed and doubled the killing speed.
The Skeleton crashed into the other zombies, swinging its bloody axe with unnatural precision. One, two, three—heads rolled.
The two of them moved like a duo of death—man and summon—unstoppable. Together, they cleaved a path through the campus grounds, heading straight toward the General Office and Academic Affairs building.
More zombies caught wind of his movement and turned, groaning, dragging themselves toward him in growing numbers. Their twisted bodies formed a writhing horde, chasing his every step.
Ethan didn't slow down. Every second counted.
Don't stop. Don't look back.
Zombies filled the paths behind him like a river of decay. Still, Ethan didn't waste time picking up the gleaming Survival Coins they dropped—he was here for keys, not coins.
Then—
[You have advanced to Level 6. You have earned 2 status points. Please allocate your attributes accordingly!]
The system alert rang loud in his head. Ethan grinned mid-run. "Stamina. Both into Stamina," he said quickly.
A rush of energy pulsed through him as the stat points kicked in. Muscles surged with new strength, lungs expanded easier, and his movements became smoother and more explosive.
With renewed energy, Ethan surged forward like a panther. He and The Skeleton carved through zombies like wind through wheat, the bodies dropping one after another. The blood that sprayed on him no longer slowed him down—it only marked his resolve.
They finally reached the school building's entrance.
Inside, only a few undead remained—three stragglers wandered near the lobby.
"Clean sweep," Ethan whispered.
He leapt forward, his blade gleaming. One zombie raised its arms—but too slow. Ethan spun, beheading it in a single, beautiful stroke.
The Skeleton lunged next, its axe glinting with death. Another head flew.
The final one turned too late. A swift thrust pierced its skull straight through the eye, and it collapsed twitching.
And then—thump.
A pair of pristine white shoes came out and landed beside the zombie's headless corpse.
Ethan's eyes narrowed, instincts flaring.
He stepped forward cautiously and picked up the shoes.
[[Level 1: Enhanced Footwear]
Type: Foot Equipment
Effect:
These reinforced shoes are crafted with lightweight composite fibers and shock-absorbing soles, subtly amplifying lower-body responsiveness. Perfect for scouts, skirmishers, and anyone relying on swift movement and agility under pressure.
Bonus Stats:
+3 Agility
Description:
Favored by runners, rogues, and ranged fighters, this specialized footwear sharpens movement precision, enhances reflexive balance, and allows for nimble footwork in chaotic environments. The material flexes with the user's movements, reducing resistance and fatigue over long distances. Whether sprinting across rooftops or weaving through undead hordes, the Enhanced Footwear is built for speed and control.
Compatibility:
Can be worn with light to medium armor sets. Especially useful in hit-and-run tactics or evasive combat styles.
Durability: 20/20
Sell Value: 75 Survival Coins]
Ethan received the information directly in his mind through the system, and without wasting a second, he swiftly slipped on the pair of Enhanced Footwear. The moment the white shoes were secured around his feet, he felt a distinct change—his body grew lighter, movement sharper, and balance steadier. His agility stat had now reached 14 points, a full 40% above the average human. His steps felt spring-loaded, ready to explode with speed and precision.
He adjusted the laces tightly, gave his legs a quick stretch, then turned to his silent undead companion. The skeleton—clad in nothing and gripping a battle-worn bone axe—stood ready like a loyal sentinel.
"Let's move," Ethan muttered, leading the way forward.
As they passed the dim hallway near the school's administrative wing, the muffled sound of papers fluttering filled the silence. But it was broken abruptly by a scream.
"Help! Please! Someone help us!"
The desperate voice came from the Financial Office. Ethan immediately turned his head, instincts flaring. He dashed forward with light, near-silent steps and pushed open the door to the Financial Office. Inside, five people had backed themselves into a corner—four young men and a frightened woman, likely fellow students. The woman, despite the dirt and fear clouding her face, had a refined beauty about her—long flowing hair tied into a hasty bun, delicate features, and soft lips trembling in shock.
"If you trust me," Ethan said with a calm authority that cut through the panic, "then follow me. Stay close."
Without waiting for their answer, Ethan turned and bolted toward the General Office. He knew that on this level, the majority of the zombies had already been lured or eliminated. As long as they moved swiftly and stayed behind him, the risk was minimal.
"What now, Zhao?" asked a student with rimmed glasses, his face pale and trembling.
The one called Zhao stood still, watching Ethan's back. He was sharply dressed in expensive, branded clothes—clearly someone from a wealthy family. A polished wooden staff rested in his hands, but it was more for appearance than actually used. He blinked, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"We follow him," Zhao said decisively. "If we stay here, we'll die waiting for a miracle that's never coming."
Zhao was not only good-looking—tall, lean, and refined—but also quick-witted. As the president of Qinghua University's student council, he was used to making hard calls under pressure. This moment was no different.
He flung open the Financial Office door and peeked outside cautiously.
His breath caught.
Outside, Ethan was already mid-battle. With practiced movements, he swung his blade—one, two—and within mere seconds, two zombies fell, their heads lopping off in smooth, elegant arcs. His strikes were surgical, clean, and powerful. The skeleton beside him crushed a third zombie's head like a watermelon with one downward chop of its axe.
"...Unreal," Zhao whispered in awe.
The rest of the group, finally overcoming their fear, followed him out in a single rush. They watched Ethan fighting like a whirlwind of death—fluid, efficient, and entirely fearless.
"Where the hell was he hiding on campus all this time?" Zhao muttered to himself. He had met all the powerful or noteworthy students before, and this guy was a complete mystery. He moved like a ghost trained for war.
The young woman beside Zhao couldn't take her eyes off Ethan either, her fear momentarily forgotten.
"He's incredible..." she whispered.
As the group continued behind Ethan, slashing through the last of the zombies on the floor, Ethan suddenly motioned for the skeleton to take point.
"You handle the front. I'll check the General Office," Ethan ordered.
The skeleton gave a silent nod—more sensed than seen—and charged forward. Ethan turned and kicked the General Office door open.
The room reeked of blood.
A grotesque figure staggered toward him—a plump, middle-aged man, his uniform stained crimson, chunks of his flesh missing. His face was half-eaten, but Ethan recognized him instantly.
Filix—the school's bus driver.
"Found you," Ethan murmured coldly.
He stepped in, dodged the lunging corpse, and in one swift motion, sliced the head clean from the man's body. The sword glinted faintly with a chill energy—his strikes now infused with his growing strength and precision.
Without hesitation, Ethan pulled out a pair of rubber gloves, knelt beside the body, and rifled through the blood-soaked uniform. After a moment of frantic searching, he grinned and yanked out a keyring with three large keys.
"Got it."
He turned and bolted from the room.
By the time he rejoined the hallway, the skeleton had already finished clearing the last undead. Limbs and torn torsos littered the corridor.
Zhao and his group huddled in a corner, their expressions a mix of fear, awe, and growing hope.
Ethan approached, face serious.
"I'm heading to the girl's dorm next. Do you have any plans?"
The group blinked in surprise.
Zhao looked at him sharply. "The girl's dorm? That's a few hundred meters across campus. The road's crawling with zombies. You can make it alone—but we'll slow you down."
Ethan gave a small nod. He'd already considered that.
Zhao took a step forward, smiling faintly. "You've saved our lives. At least give us your name."
"Ethan," he replied without hesitation.
Zhao extended a hand. "Zhao Lei. Student president."
There was a pause, then Zhao smirked slightly.
"Let me guess—you're heading to the girl's dorm because you've got someone important there? Friends? Girlfriend perhaps?"
Ethan's gaze turned toward the horizon, as if piercing through the walls and trees ahead.
"...Something like that," he replied quietly.
In his mind, a memory flickered—of a girl in a light blue jacket with a calm, teasing smile, waving goodbye before the outbreak began. Grace.
Ethan narrowed his eyes as he stared at Zhao, his voice calm but firm." You're right," he said slowly. "There are too many zombies on the road to the girl's dormitory. If you're going alone… there's no way you'll all make it. At least half of you will die before you even reach the second floor."
His words were simple, but they struck like cold steel—unflinching and honest.
Zhao's group consisted of five students, none of whom had any real combat ability. They were civilians caught in a nightmare world, holding on to fear and hope in equal measure. The idea of sprinting through a horde of undead with nothing but adrenaline and prayer was suicide.
Zhao stepped forward, desperation hidden behind his composed expression. "I know we can't make it on our own. We'll be stuck here until the food runs out—or until they break in." He paused, then added more softly, "Ethan, I believe you're planning to leave this school. But before you do... I hope you'll come back for us. Help us get out of here. If you can do that... I swear, I'll repay the favor. No matter when. No matter how."
Ethan gave him a single nod—small but full of weight. "If I have the strength to spare, I'll return." His gaze swept across the room, locking briefly with each of their eyes. "But before I go, I'll give you this truth—kill enough of them, and you'll level up. The more you level, the more powerful you'll become. This world isn't normal anymore. Everything we ever knew has changed... If you have the courage to fight, to stand your ground and bleed... you'll evolve."
He turned without waiting for a response, his long coat swaying behind him like a banner of defiance.
The room was left in silence, thick and stifling. Dust floated in the air like forgotten hope.
The man in glasses spoke up quietly, his broken frames sliding down the bridge of his nose. "Zhao… do you really believe him?"
Zhao didn't answer immediately. His fingers tightened around the novice staff that appeared in his hands with the voice of god, knuckles white. After a long, trembling breath, he finally whispered, "Maybe I do. Did you see him? Calm, strong… and he had a damned skeleton fighting beside him."
He looked up, his face shadowed with uncertainty. "Ever since that voice claimed to be 'God,' nothing makes sense anymore. Our science stopped working. Things we could explain yesterday… they make no sense today.... It's like the laws of the world changed overnight."
The others exchanged uneasy glances. Zhao's voice sparked something inside them—fear, yes, but also a sliver of belief. A desperate hope that maybe they could survive. Maybe there was a path forward... if they were willing to pay the price.
But that price was steep.
They had all seen what a zombie could do up close. The way it tore through flesh, how even the slightest scratch could spell doom. There were no health bars, no "Save Point" screens—only permanent, irreversible death.
The thought of fighting zombies up close, of engaging in brutal, bloody melee combat, made their skin crawl. Everyone present had witnessed what even a single zombie could do to a person. Just one bite, one scratch... and it was over. A death sentence.
This wasn't a game. There were no respawns. No second chances.
And so, silence reclaimed the room once more. Each person, caught between fear and desire, weighed the cost of survival—and the terrible price of power.
Finally, Zhao looked at the others. His expression had changed—still uncertain, but now laced with a grim resolve.
"Go back," he said.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked into the Financial Office. He wasn't ready to risk his life just yet. Knowing the path to power didn't mean being ready to walk it.
The rest followed him hesitantly. Each step a testament to the hard truth: unless cornered, very few are willing to gamble with death to gain strength.
---
Outside, Ethan was already gone—vanishing like a shadow into the broken world.
With the girl's dormitory as his next destination, he moved fast. His thoughts were clear, his breathing steady. His eyes swept the terrain ahead, calculating every alley, every movement. He didn't have the luxury of slowing down.
A cluster of zombies staggered out from between the buildings, their rotting forms sluggish but unrelenting.
Ethan's grip tightened on the worn hilt of his sword.
"Let's clear a path."
The skeleton beside him let out a silent, obedient clatter and charged ahead. Ethan followed, his movements sharp and efficient. He had no martial arts training, but his agility had grown since the apocalypse began. He struck with instinct—precise, cold, and brutal.
The first zombie lunged, but Ethan's blade was faster—cleanly slicing through its neck. He pivoted, ducked another's claw swipe, and buried the blade into its chest before kicking it back.
Beside him, the skeleton fought like a machine—beheading two more in rapid succession.
Ethan never stopped moving. In a flash of motion, he ducked under a grasping hand and severed an entire arm, then twisted and ran his blade across another's torso. Blood and rot sprayed in every direction.
Seven fell in less than a minute.
Breathing hard, Ethan didn't waste a second. He sprinted the final stretch and reached the base of the girl's dormitory.
The rope was still there—tied from the last time he left. He leapt, grabbed hold, and began to climb.
---
Inside, tension hung thick in the air.
Maya, the soft-faced girl with the baby-like smile, was the first to notice the movement at the window. Her eyes widened.
"Ethan! You're back!"
She shot to her feet, her expression lighting up like dawn breaking over a battlefield.
The other girls, save for Grace, let out audible sighs of relief. They rushed to him with a mixture of gratitude and awe. Ethan hadn't been gone long, but every second outside felt like an eternity under siege. His return brought a fragile sense of safety.
Grace stood at the back, arms crossed. Her eyes, wide and radiant, locked onto him. She stepped forward with the grace of a queen, her long ponytail swaying gently with each step.
"You have it?" she asked softly, her voice smooth yet commanding.
Ethan sat on the edge of one of the beds, exhaling as he pulled out a key from his pocket.
"In my hand."
He opened a bottle of water, the plastic crinkling in his grip, and downed it in one long, steady gulp.
Though his trip had been short, it was packed with violence and urgency. Every movement had been calculated. Every strike, measured. His body was aching, his stamina stretched.
But his mind?
Sharp as ever.
He looked at Grace with a faint smile, then glanced at the others. "Get ready. We won't be staying here much longer."
Their hearts beat faster—not out of fear, but for the first time in a long day... out of hope.
---
"Let's go!"
The moment his stamina recovered to 9 points, Ethan straightened his back and gave the order with quiet authority. His deep voice cut through the tense silence inside the girls' dorm.
The five girls inside—each with different expressions of worry, fear, and anticipation—snapped their attention toward him.
Ethan's piercing gaze swept over them before settling on the four following behind Grace. His voice dropped slightly, calm but firm—unyielding like steel wrapped in velvet.
"When we get down there, I want you all to stay behind me and Grace at all times. Do not run off. Do not push or shove each other. Let me make one thing perfectly clear—if you break formation and panic, I won't be able to save you. You'll be on your own."
His words carried weight—not just in tone, but in truth. Outside, a horde of zombies loomed like a creeping tide. If any of the girls were foolish enough to rush ahead or break line, Ethan's power wouldn't be enough to protect them all.
"Got it!"
The girls nodded in unison, eyes wide with the understanding that even the slightest mistake could lead to death. This wasn't a game. Not to them.
Without wasting another second, Ethan grabbed the thick rope tied to the window's iron frame and swung himself out with agile precision. Muscles flexing, he descended swiftly, boots scraping gently against the wall to slow his speed. Within moments, he landed on the ground like a soldier—silent and ready.
Back in the room, Ava stepped toward the rope but froze as she looked down. Her face turned pale.
She wasn't athletic—never had been. Even with a rope, the thought of climbing down three stories sent her heart racing in terror.
"If you're not going, then let me go first. Don't waste our time, Maya!" Olivia snapped sharply, giving Maya a small shove.
The black-haired Olivia didn't wait for a reply. She grabbed the rope and began her descent with surprising tenacity. Her movements were shaky but determined. She bit her lower lip and powered through the fear.
When she finally touched down, Ethan gave her a slight nod of acknowledgment. Not bad.
Next came Luna. With her long hair tied back, and her expressive eyes filled with focus, she moved like she'd done this before. Smooth and steady, she climbed down the rope with the grace of a dancer and the strength of an athlete.
"Impressive," Ethan said with a faint smile.
Ethan praised her, there are few girls that can neatly climb down the rope like that. Luna gives the impression that she is kind of fragile, delicate and charming beauty, and did not think she could have been so dexterous.
Luna flashed him a wink as her feet touched the ground.
"Don't judge a book by its cover. I may look soft, but I'm a fitness freak. Still, Grace's training regime is on another level..."
Ethan chuckled under his breath. He appreciated people who could back up their words.
Next came Ava—short-haired, her expression twisted with doubt. She clutched the rope, hesitating at the edge before slowly beginning her descent. Her arms trembled slightly, but she made it without incident.
Finally, it was Maya's turn.
Her fingers gripped the rope, knuckles white. Her knees shook as she started down. Her descent was clumsy, slow. Each inch was a battle against her fear. Olivia shouted up from below, anxiety in her voice.
"Hurry, Maya! You're the last one!"
Every second they delayed increased the risk. While the dorm entrance was still relatively clear, the distant streets were a different story—filled with lurking undead, groaning and shifting hungrily.
If they didn't move fast, and carefully, it was easy to get surrounded—and killed.
Spurred by Olivia's urgency, Maya quickened her descent—but in her rush.
Suddenly—slip!
Maya's foot lost grip.
Her scream tore through the air as she dropped like a stone, hands losing their hold. The wind howled in her ears. Time slowed, and a single, terrifying thought echoed in her mind:
"It's over. A broken bone means death… I won't survive this."
The wind roared past her ears as the ground rushed up to meet her. Panic surged through her chest, and in that moment, all she could think was—it's over. In a world like this, a single fractured bone could mean death. You couldn't run, couldn't fight. You'd just be a liability, a target.
"I'm done for...!"
But just as despair tightened around her—
A blur moved.
A gust of air.
A figure dashed forward like a flash of light.
Ethan.
His instincts kicked in. Legs bent, body propelled by adrenaline and boosted strength, he launched himself beneath her plummeting form.
With incredible reflexes, he caught her mid-air. The force of impact hit like a sledgehammer, his boots skidding on the pavement. The momentum slammed into his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs—but he stood firm.
Time returned to normal.
Maya lay stunned in his arms, her breath shaky. Her cheeks turned crimson as her eyes met his.
"T-Thank you... for saving me," she whispered, voice barely audible, vulnerable.
Ethan simply nodded, gently setting her down.
Nearby, Olivia's brow twitched. Watching Maya cling to Ethan made her heart tighten with frustration.
'This little kitten knows how to play the damsel card too well...' she thought with narrowed eyes.
Grace was the last to descend. With the physique of a hardened athlete and the elegance of a seasoned fighter, she glided down the rope without hesitation. Her body was sheathed in a fully covered tactical university uniform that hugged her curves just right—but still stylish and flattering. Her long black hair swayed like silk behind her.
She landed beside Ethan, standing tall, sharp-eyed and confident, her hand drifting toward the hilt of her staff as a precaution.
The five regrouped quickly.
Just as Ethan prepared to move them forward—
"Wait!"
A desperate voice called from above.
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.