"Shit," Ethan muttered, his jaw tightening. "This is big trouble."
Crowds of zombies were the deadliest. Scattered ones could be lured, picked off one at a time. But this? This was a living tide. One slip, one stumble, and they'd be swallowed whole.
"Up the steps!" Ethan barked.
Without hesitation, he and Luke dashed toward the sales office stairs, boots pounding against stone as the first zombies lunged for them. Ethan's mind was already racing—calculating distances, escape routes, choke points. His quick thinking was the only thing keeping them alive now.
Behind them, the horde surged like a flood, crashing against the building, hands slamming against glass and steel, teeth gnashing, hungry for blood.
And so the real battle began.
The zombies pressed forward like a grotesque tide, bodies squeezing and stumbling over one another in a blind frenzy for flesh.
The staircase slowed them, but not enough. Their rotting limbs faltered as they climbed, the uneven steps catching their decayed feet. Dozens tripped, tumbling backward with snapping bones and hollow groans. Yet the rest clambered over their fallen brothers, trampling corpses and clawing forward with unstoppable hunger.
Even a single flight of stairs turned into a graveyard. More than a dozen zombies lay in heaps at the base, their spines bent, jaws gnashing at the air while others tripped over them. But still, the horde pushed on.
The narrow stairway was a double-edged sword. Only four could walk side by side, but the funnel meant the horde packed tighter, shoulder-to-shoulder, their rancid breath choking the air.
Ethan's eyes flashed. A bottleneck. Perfect.
"Kill them all!" he commanded, his voice cutting like a whip.
Spawn lunged forward, the skeletal warrior obeying without hesitation. His massive axe whirled in a deadly arc, the blade singing through the air. Flesh and bone exploded with every strike, a storm of gore spraying across the stairwell walls. Heads rolled, torsos split, limbs flew—Spawn was a reaper unleashed, carving through the huddled dead like wheat before a scythe.
Ethan and Luke fought at his flanks, blades gleaming under the pale moonlight filtering through broken windows. Every zombie that slipped past Spawn's reach was met with a precise strike—Ethan's blade severing a neck, Luke's sword plunging into a skull.
Gunfire cracked once when a zombie nearly slipped too close—Luke pulling his pistol, squeezing a round into its forehead, the spray of blood painting the railing. But bullets were precious; swords and steel had to do the rest.
As an undead, Spawn didn't fear infection, but Ethan and Luke were painfully aware of the risk. Even wrapped in their protective gear, one scratch too deep, one broken seal, and they'd join the ranks of the dead.
Step by bloody step, they retreated, carving a path of destruction. Their coordination was flawless, a rhythm forged from brotherhood—Luke covering Ethan's blind spot, Ethan shouting quick orders, Spawn taking the brunt of the push.
Time blurred into violence. For over an hour, the stairwell echoed with the clash of steel, the screams of the dead, and the ragged breaths of two men who refused to break.
At last, the final zombie's skull cracked under Spawn's axe, collapsing into silence. The stairwell was slick with gore, the stench suffocating.
Ethan wiped blood from his cheek, chest heaving. A faint chime echoed in his ears. Level 11. Luke, pale and drenched in sweat, hit Level 7.
Ethan quickly funneled points into Agility and Stamina, his mind already calculating the fights ahead. Survival wasn't about brute force—it was about efficiency.
The loot, however, was pitiful. Barely two hundred Survival Coins and three Apple of Vitality. For a hundred kills, it felt like the world was mocking them.
Ethan exhaled slowly, voice hoarse. "Enough. Let's head back before we drop."
Luke didn't argue. He was drenched, his sword and shield arms trembling. Even with his protective gear, exhaustion cut deeper than any claw.
---
When they staggered back into the apartment, the girls were waiting. Daisy hurried forward, her long hair shimmering in the faint light, and smiled softly. "You're back. I… I boiled water for you. The bath is ready."
The other girls glanced at Ethan and Luke with a mixture of awe and envy. None of them dared touch the tap water—the virus made it poison. Boiling bottled water for bathing was a luxury, something only fighters could justify. Sweat-soaked survival had to be washed away, or the body would break.
For a moment, Ethan allowed himself the smallest comfort. Steam curled around him as he sank into the hot water, the ache in his muscles easing. His eyes closed. In this broken world, even a bath was a treasure.
"Feels like heaven," he muttered, letting out a rare sigh.
Luke crouched by his own bucket, scrubbing blood from his arms. A rare smile tugged at his lips. "Remember middle school? Boarding school showers… all of us fighting for one basin."
Ethan chuckled, eyes half-lidded. The memory warmed him. Cold winters, boiling water in tin buckets, laughing boys trying to stay warm in freezing dorms. "Yeah. Back then, we thought that was tough."
Silence fell for a moment, and then Ethan whispered, "I wonder how Panther's doing."
Panther—his old brother in arms. After the exams, life scattered them like leaves. In this apocalypse, who knew who survived?
Luke's smile faded, but his voice carried hope. "He's a survivor. He always was. Guys like him don't go down easy."
Ethan's chest tightened, but he nodded. "Yeah. After all… we nerds made it through, didn't we?"
For the first time that night, both men laughed. It wasn't joy, not really—but a fragile reminder of humanity.
---
Meanwhile, in a smaller room, another war brewed.
Nina leaned against the wall, her beauty radiant even in fatigue. Her eyes glittered with determination as she whispered, "Daisy, I want Ethan. I want him to be my boyfriend. Will you help me?"
Daisy froze, caught off guard. Ethan's figure in battle flashed in her mind—the way he fought, unyielding, unbreakable. Her lips parted, hesitation visible. Finally, she sighed. "...Alright. I'll help."
Nina turned, eyes sharp as she fixed on Jessica. "And you? You'll support me, right? If Ethan is mine, I'll make sure he protects you too."
Jessica hesitated, fingers curling against her dress. She admired Ethan as well—though her shy nature kept her quiet. She wasn't in love, but she wasn't ready to surrender either.
Before she could answer, Leah's voice cut in like a knife. "Schemes. That's all this is. If you want him, win him yourself. Don't drag others into your little plans."
Nina's face flushed with anger. "This is between us, not you!"
But Leah sneered, eyes cold. "Don't play dumb. You don't love Ethan. You just want a shield. You're afraid of the others—Grace, Luna, Olivia, even Sydney. You know they're stronger, prettier. You think you can play politics? Pathetic."
Nina's pride burned. She was stunning, yes, but she couldn't deny the competition. Grace was radiant, Luna elegant, Sydney dazzling in her uniform, and even Maya's playful cuteness made men smile. Compared to them, Nina's confidence cracked.
"You—!" she shouted, her voice breaking.
Daisy quickly stepped in, raising her hands. "Enough! Fighting won't help. We all need rest. Tomorrow, it's our turn to fight, to level up. If you waste your strength arguing, you won't survive."
The tension lingered like smoke, but slowly, Nina and Leah fell silent. With cold glares, they turned away, each retreating to their blankets.
And in the darkness, unspoken rivalries festered.
---
It was after midnight when the sound of a door creaked open in apartment 208. Shadows moved swiftly down the stairwell, carrying bags, whispering orders. Zhao's team—faces tight with nerves—slipped out into the night like thieves.
The yellow school bus waited at the curb, hulking and silent in the darkness. Zhao pulled out a ring of stolen keys, his hands trembling only slightly. One slid into the ignition with a click.
Yun Yi climbed into the driver's seat, sweat glistening on his brow despite the chill. With a nervous glance at Zhao, he twisted the key.
The engine roared to life. The sound shattered the silence like thunder.
The school bus lurched forward, rattling down the street. Its heavy frame devoured the distance as it sped away from the apartment complex.
---
Upstairs, the roar cut through Ethan's shallow sleep. His eyes snapped open.
"What the—"
He was already at the balcony, barefoot, clad in loose pajamas, when he saw it: the yellow school bus vanishing down the road. His jaw clenched, his face paling with fury.
Behind him, hurried footsteps. Luna appeared, also in sleepwear, her silky hair loose around her shoulders, eyes wide with fear. "Ethan, what's happening?" Her voice trembled, though part of her already knew.
Ethan's fists gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white. "The bus. Someone stole it. Someone I saved."
Nina came next, her normally lively face drained of color. "Then… then what do we do? How can we get to Long Hai City without it?" Her voice was shrill, panicked.
Inside the room, the others had gathered. Eyes fell on Ethan, searching for guidance. Only Luke and Grace met his gaze with steady calm—the others were terrified, shadows of despair flickering across their expressions.
Ethan forced his tone to stay level. "Don't panic. I was already planning to switch vehicles. Tomorrow, I'll find us something better." He raised his voice slightly, firm but calm, like a captain steadying his crew in a storm. "For now, go back to sleep. Worry won't bring it back."
There was hesitation, but one by one, they nodded and retreated. Only Luke lingered.
Ethan stood frozen at the balcony, eyes still burning on the empty street. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "It's hard to predict a man's heart. To think—the people I saved…" His words trailed into a bitter sigh.
Luke stepped up beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Don't waste anger on them. The bus is gone, fine. Tomorrow we'll take something better. Stronger. Faster. They think they're clever, but they've just robbed themselves of survival."
Ethan managed a grim smile, appreciating Luke's grounding presence. They were brothers, in all but blood.
Later, lying in bed, Ethan cursed aloud, pounding a fist into the mattress. "Fuck! My research materials were in that bus."
In the trunk, he had hidden three captured zombies—experiments that might have revealed how EXP worked, how Spawn's abilities tied into the system. Now, gone.
---
Meanwhile, Zhao's team pushed the stolen bus down darkened streets, heading toward Long Hai City.
Manni, one of the prettier girls of their group—slender, her long hair tied messily, fear shining in her eyes—finally spoke, her voice trembling. "Zhao… should we really have done this? Ethan saved us. He fought for us. And we—" She trailed off, guilt choking her words.
For a moment, silence hung heavy. Then Zhao exhaled slowly. "Manni, listen. To reach Long Hai City, this was the only way. Without a bus, we wouldn't make it. Ethan… Ethan is strong. Stronger than all of us. He'll find something else. He doesn't need this bus like we do." His tone was calm, rational—but his eyes betrayed unease.
Several heads nodded, though not convincingly. The world hadn't been broken long enough for their consciences to fully rot. Shame still stung.
Then Yun, his hands tight on the wheel, snapped bitterly, "Saved us? He acted like he was our master, ordering us around. Who does he think he is? He's just one guy with a pet monster. No class, no respect."
"Yes!" another boy chimed in quickly, as if reassuring himself. "He treated us like baggage, like pawns. Why should we worship him? We don't owe him."
"Exactly," others echoed, seizing the excuse. Belittling Ethan dulled the sharpness of their betrayal.
The bus rattled into Qing Yun District—once a bustling commercial area. Now, streets were littered with abandoned cars, wrecks piled into crude barricades. Zombies roamed between the husks, their vacant eyes glinting in the darkness.
"Shit—" Yun stiffened. Up ahead, a heap of cars blocked the road. "Zhao! A blockade! What now?"
Zhao's blood ran cold. "Reverse! Reverse now! The bus mustn't stop—"
But he didn't finish.
Glass exploded.
Two P1 zombies smashed through the side windows, glass raining like shards of ice. Their hulking forms burst into the bus in a frenzy of claws and fangs.
Screams tore the air.
One zombie lunged instantly, its massive jaws clamping around the throat of a beautiful girl near the aisle. Her eyes widened in horror as teeth sank deep, ripping through flesh. Blood sprayed in an arc, drenching the seats and the monster's face. Her scream died in a wet gargle as her body convulsed.
The second P1 swiped its claws across another girl's shoulder. Flesh tore open like paper, blood gushing as she shrieked, collapsing into the arms of her friend.
"Help! Help us!" Panic erupted. Girls shrieked, scrambling toward Zhao, tears streaming down their terrified faces. Their beauty, once a comfort in this ruined world, now only made their deaths more cruel.
The bitten girl's body fell limp, her lifeless eyes staring at the flickering bus lights. The second P1 didn't pause—it pounced again, its bloody maw opening wide like a lion descending on helpless prey.
The other P1 zombie lunged into the chaos, its movements faster, heavier, far more terrifying than the mindless husks outside. With a guttural roar, it seized another girl by the shoulders and sank its teeth deep into her throat.
Her scream tore through the bus, high and desperate, before cutting off into a gurgle as blood sprayed against the windows. In the space of only a few breaths, three young women had been butchered—faces once filled with hope and beauty now twisted in shock and bitter regret. Their final, glassy eyes seemed to whisper the same truth: if only we had stayed with Ethan… we'd still be alive.
The stench of blood filled the cramped interior. The remaining survivors shrieked, scrambling over seats in blind panic.
Zhao's expression shifted from leaderly resolve to raw fear as he watched the two hulking monsters tear through flesh. They weren't normal zombies. These were predators—P1s, faster, stronger, more cunning. His heart hammered as he realized the truth: even if they fought together, victory would cost him his life.
"Stop! Stop the bus!" Zhao barked, his voice cracking.
Yun, sweating and terrified, didn't hesitate. He slammed both feet on the brakes. Tires screamed, the massive bus jolted violently, and the two P1s were thrown forward, smashing into the driver's cabin.
The survivors barely had time to breathe before the monsters scrambled up, growling, claws dripping with fresh blood.
And Zhao—once the one who had sworn to protect them—made his choice.
Without another word, he turned and hurled himself out the side window, landing hard on the pavement. His novice staff clattered in his grip as he staggered up, then sprinted into the night without looking back. His mind was already decided—let the others die. Better them than me.
For a moment, the entire bus froze in disbelief. The man they trusted, their so-called leader, had abandoned them first. The betrayal was like ice water down their spines, snuffing out the last ember of hope.
Manni, a strikingly beautiful girl with long dark hair and tear-streaked cheeks, was the first to snap out of her shock. With a choked cry, she bit her tongue until blood filled her mouth—forcing herself awake from her terror—and leapt through the broken window after Zhao. She didn't know where her feet would carry her in the darkness, but staying meant certain death.
Her escape was the spark. The others followed in chaos, throwing themselves from the windows, tripping over each other in their desperation to flee.
Yun scrambled from the driver's seat, clawing toward the window. He almost made it—but the first P1 tackled him from behind, pinning him down. Yun screamed, kicking wildly as the monster's fangs tore into his throat, ripping it out in a spray of blood. His gurgled cry died as his limbs twitched and went still.
Another boy, no older than sixteen, nearly reached the door. A clawed hand snatched him back, teeth closed around his neck, and his scream ended in a choking silence.
The two P1s rampaged through the cramped bus, killing with frightening precision. When at last no screams remained, they didn't pursue the scattering survivors. Instead, they fell on the seven fresh corpses, tearing flesh with sickening crunches, devouring in wet, grotesque gulps.
The bus, once filled with youthful chatter and nervous hope, was now a slaughterhouse. Blood ran down the steps and pooled in the aisle.
And outside, in the night, the sound carried. Dozens of wandering zombies stirred, their heads snapping toward the noise. They staggered forward, drawn by the scent of warm blood. The fleeing survivors would not make it far.
---
Morning came.
Ethan's eyes opened before the sun had fully risen. He hadn't slept well. His mind still replayed the sight of the bus speeding away—the sting of betrayal.
But he couldn't dwell. Survival waited for no one.
"Everyone up." His voice was sharp, controlled, commanding.
Julia stirred and sat up, stretching the stiffness from her limbs. Ethan turned to her immediately. "Jul, how much MP have you recovered?"
A tired but proud smile curved her lips. "Fully restored."
"Then treat Grace. Now."
Julia nodded without hesitation, moving to where Grace lay. She raised her hands, and a soft, radiant glow blossomed from her palms. Two orbs of warm, white light streamed into Grace's body.
The others gathered around, wide-eyed. They had never truly seen magic at work—last night Julia had healed Grace behind a locked door, away from their curious stares. Now, the sight held them spellbound.
Grace's pale face, which had been ghostly in its weakness, began to flush with warmth as the healing light sank into her. Her chest rose steadily, her lips regained color.
"How do you feel?" Ethan asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
Grace's eyes fluttered open. She tested her arm, flexed her legs, then looked at him with a spark of joy. "Better. So much better."
"Again," Ethan ordered Julia.
She obeyed. More light poured into Grace, washing away the last shadows of weakness.
When it ended, Grace exhaled deeply. She rose from the sofa, her movements fluid, sensual yet powerful. Years of training had forged her body into something breathtaking—an elegant weapon draped in beauty. She stretched, arching her back, muscles shifting under smooth skin. Her ample chest, wide hips, and long, toned thighs moved with practiced grace. Her valiant air was intoxicating, even in the bleak morning light.
Ethan's eyes lingered a moment longer than they should have. For an instant, he allowed himself to admire her strength, her beauty, before forcing his focus back to survival.
"How much?" he asked.
Grace smirked, rolling her shoulders. "More than fifty percent. I can fight."
"Good." Ethan's tone hardened. "Today, we find a new ride. Grace, Luke, William—you're with me. The rest stay here." His eyes shifted to Luna, locking on her with steel. "You're in charge. Remember what I said: no matter who knocks—man, woman, or even a child—you do not open that door. If someone tries to force their way in, you shoot. Without hesitation. Do you understand?"
Luna's heart clenched. She remembered the thugs who had once cornered her, remembered the helplessness. She nodded quickly. "I understand."
Satisfied, Ethan grabbed his weapon, and the four of them stepped out into the cold morning.
---
"Where to now?" William asked, nerves creeping into his voice.
Ethan didn't hesitate. "Jiangnan District. Green Shade Street. Less population density, and it's filled with large vehicle showrooms. Ordinary cars won't last. We need something heavy. Something that can smash through zombies without crumpling."
Luke grinned faintly. "Sounds like you've been planning this for days."
"I have." Ethan's eyes were sharp, already calculating routes and contingencies. "Always plan three steps ahead."
To avoid the swarms downtown, he led them in a wide arc, through narrow alleys and quiet streets where the undead were scattered. Small clusters shambled here and there, easy enough to deal with.
William swallowed hard as they approached one such group. His palms sweated on the grip of his weapon.
Ethan placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is your fight, Will. Time to stop being afraid."
The young man's heart pounded. But when the zombie lurched forward, snarling, William let out a roar of his own and charged. The clash was messy, desperate, but he pushed through his fear, driving his weapon home. The zombie fell with a sickening crunch.
Panting, William stared down at the corpse, trembling.
Ethan gave a single approving nod. "Good. Fear never goes away. You just fight through it."
Luke clapped William on the back, grinning like a proud brother. "You've got guts, friend. Ethan's rubbing off on you."
For the first time in days, William managed a shaky smile.
And so, step by step, through blood and fear, the group pushed onward—toward Green Shade Street, toward survival.