After a brief rest, Zeroy returned to her computer.
She intended to see if she could investigate the cause of this apocalyptic crisis through the network, and then complete the mission of collecting the virus sample.
A chance to draw a special item—she was still quite interested in that.
But just as Zeroy began her operation, an urgent pounding sounded at the door.
"?"
Her brows arched. Knocking on her door like that? Who dared?
She rose to open it. The moment it swung open, a blur of pink hair hurled toward her.
Though fast, Zeroy was no ordinary person. She clearly saw the intent and sensed no hostility.
So she didn't cut her down. She simply let her collide into her.
"Z-Zeroy, please save my mom and dad!"
Saya clung to her leg, sobbing, soaking her stockings with tears.
"I'll do anything—please save them!"
"?"
Zeroy looked down at the proud young lady reduced to a weeping mess, then raised her eyes to Saeko and the others who had followed. Their faces were filled with shock and worry.
"So, what happened?"
It wasn't complicated. Even in panic and grief, Saya quickly explained enough for Zeroy to grasp the situation.
Learning that the Takagi estate was in trouble, Zeroy opened her detection radar. Her brows drew tight.
What had been a sea of green now bled red.
It had to be recent. Just that morning, she'd checked—the estate and surroundings had been clean.
What happened there? How had it collapsed in just one morning?
She had drones stationed at the Takagi estate for surveillance—it was the largest survivor settlement in the cleared zone aside from her base. Bringing them all in would've overburdened the base, but leaving them unchecked wasn't wise either.
She could review the drone feed to answer her questions. But for now—saving lives came first.
"I'll go see what's happening."
Zeroy paused, her gaze falling on the still shadowed, anxious Saya.
"And you're coming with me."
…
The mansion had become a sea of fire. Thick smoke rolled skyward, flames roaring high.
Zombies swarmed, hunting down scattering survivors.
Everywhere, the unlucky fell beneath clawing masses, torn apart and devoured, screams shredding the air.
Below the main house, an overwhelming horde pressed against the walls, howling, rotting arms clawing for purchase.
On the roof above, a valiant woman stood, leading survivors in desperate defense.
Lady Takagi's bloodstained skirt whipped in the wind as she gripped a pistol, muzzle flashing bursts of fire.
Around her, survivors with pale faces trembled as they fought back with anything they could: firearms, kitchen knives, crude spears cobbled from sticks and blades, straining to keep the dead at bay.
Yet below, the horde piled into a grotesque ladder of flesh. Bloodied fingers nearly closed around their ankles.
Burning rafters collapsed, showering sparks, illuminating hollow eyes—death's gaze, more terrifying than the flames.
The scene was chaos incarnate, the air choking with blood and smoke, death smothering the once-grand estate.
"Mother!"
Saya instantly spotted Yuriko Takagi.
Amidst her panic, that brought a fleeting breath of relief.
Abruptly, she noticed—on the roof stood only her mother and a handful of others. Her father was nowhere.
Not just there…
Held close in Zeroy's arms as they sped toward the mansion, Saya's eyes darted desperately. Yet, no matter how she searched, her father was gone.
And then she had no more room to think.
For Yuriko's position was perilous.
…
The stench of rot swept with the hot air. A man's trembling finger pulled the trigger, but only an empty click answered.
He stared down at the tide of corpses. His throat bobbed, sweat streaking his pale face.
"Madam… run!"
His desperate voice quavered beneath the roars.
"There are too many—we can't hold them!"
They were trapped in this burning, choking refuge. No escape. No hope.
Because zombies in the city had been cleared in large numbers, many survivors remained. Souichiro Takagi had expanded the shelter, taking them in.
They should have been its strength. Instead, their sudden influx bred chaos.
The Takagi family tried to contain it, but it was too late. By the time they moved, dissent had already taken shape.
Conflict exploded.
And in that turmoil, someone used the virus as a weapon. It spread like wildfire through the shelter.
Those welcomed as hope had instead opened Pandora's box.
Now, the horde piled below, once-sheltered survivors transformed into man-eating monsters.
The zombies swarmed, howling to climb the roof, numbers suffocating.
Crushed limbs snapped, skulls burst beneath the press. Bones cracked, groans mixing with the guttural chorus.
The walls of the mansion groaned under the weight, shuddering on the edge of collapse.
And across the refuge, more zombies gathered. There were no survivors left elsewhere—they had all been devoured.
In the firelight, their shadows loomed like demons from hell.
...
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