"Alright, Stark, calm down," a sweet-faced girl stepped in, playing peacemaker. "Commander Jia has his reasons. Everyone earned their points risking their lives. Convincing them to pool resources for a map takes time and patience."
Roy couldn't recall her name, just a vague impression of a 'Cultural Minister' type, always soft-spoken with everyone.
"I'll figure out the map situation," Jia Shuai frowned, unconsciously crushing his plastic water bottle, the pressure evident. "What do you suggest we do right now?"
Stark crossed his arms, thoughtfully kneading his layered chin. "Find weapons. Gather supplies. Food, water."
"Fuck, we all know that!" snapped a dark-skinned guy, frustration clear. "Be specific! Where do we find this stuff?"
Stark bristled. "Without a goddamn map, even if I tell you where, how the hell would you know which way to go?"
Jia Shuai massaged his temples. Stark was abrasive, but his point was brutally valid. No map meant chaos.
"The Promenade," Stark spat out a moment later.
"What?" Jia Shuai blinked.
"In the game," Stark explained, "The Promenade has the widest variety of weapons, easiest to grab. Plus, there should be a supermarket there for food and water... But," he added grimly, "I don't remember how to get there in the game anymore. And even if I did, it'd be useless. This Good Luck City is way bigger than the game map. Everything's probably shuffled around."
"Right. Thanks." Jia Shuai stood, clapping Stark's broad shoulder. "That's solid intel. We rest tonight. Tomorrow, I organize a team to find this Promenade."
...
"The Promenade, huh..."
Roy traced the path from the safehouse on the map, flipping the monitor feed to the corresponding location.
The Promenade was an indoor shopping street, roughly 150 meters long, running north-south. Lined with diverse shops, its center featured a leisure plaza and pedestrian walkways. Once the bustling heart of Good Luck City, it was now a nightmarish stronghold for the undead.
After cycling through a few camera angles, Roy spotted a familiar figure on screen: Shades.
The man was crouched behind a potted plant near a restroom entrance, teeth gritted as he stared at the seemingly endless horde choking the street ahead.
Roy couldn't help a grim smile.
Shades was probably regretting ditching the rookies now. No disposable pawns left to lure the zombies away.
This wouldn't last, Roy knew. He remembered from his past life: by noon the next day, Shades would strike a deal with Jia Shuai. Together, they'd set a trap, wiping out a massive chunk of the horde, securing the Promenade and raking in serious points.
Too bad Roy was alone. Replicating that trap solo was impossible. The Promenade horde alone could have netted him half the points needed for an E-Gold weapon.
"Ah well, gotta be realistic," Roy muttered, shaking his head wryly.
He turned his attention to the row of security lockers in the room. Keys were used where available; the trusty crowbar handled the rest. Soon, twenty-odd lockers stood open, revealing a trove: guns, ammo, stun batons, security uniforms, and an assortment of distinctly American personal effects.
With only 700 points left, Roy couldn't afford to claim it all. He prioritized certifying one piece of white-tier armor and one pistol.
Good Luck City Security Uniform
Type: Armor
Quality: F (White)
Level: Lv1
Defense: 25
Description: Stylish black uniform with the Good Luck City emblem on the left arm. Includes a lightweight vest of questionable ballistic protection.
Certification Cost: 100 Points
Red M92F Pistol
Type: Semi-Auto Pistol
Quality: F (Green)
Level: Lv1
Power: 50
Description: Beretta-manufactured 9mm semi-auto pistol. Part of the limited edition Olympic Rings series.
Certification Cost: 500 Points
For ammo, he grabbed six loaded 10-round magazines and 120 loose rounds. Uncertified ammo couldn't leave the illusion, but it worked fine within it as long as the gun itself was certified.
Staring at the measly 100 points left on his main panel, Roy frowned. Points came fast, but went faster.
"Time to earn some more..."
He wasn't deluding himself about hitting the absurd 200,000-point goal before the illusion ended. But he needed enough for the remaining Blue and Purple-tier weapons he planned to take.
Within illusions, hidden quests offered the best point-per-effort ratio. But Roy wasn't prioritizing that route just yet. For him, there was a far more efficient option.
His gaze fell on the Red M92F Pistol in his hand. A flicker of conflict crossed his face. He took a deep breath, resolve hardening. He raised the gun, pressing the cold muzzle firmly against his temple.
BANG!
Roy opened his eyes. The room looked familiar, yet strange. A split-second of disorientation cleared, replaced by sharp focus. He lunged forward, snatching the phone he'd left pre-positioned on the computer desk opposite. Its purpose: recording the entire Death Refining process.
The playback was stark. At the gunshot, his body jerked violently sideways, collapsing. Utter stillness followed. He looked convincingly dead.
Ten seconds in, change began. The head wound didn't heal; it reconstituted. Flesh and bone seemed to reappear from nothing, bypassing any natural regeneration process. No gradual knitting, just instant, seamless restoration.
By the eleventh second, his eyes snapped open. The Death Refining was complete.
"So," Roy mused, rubbing his chin, "the first ten seconds are genuine death. Refining kicks in at eleven... Not what I expected, but that time gap... that could be exploited. Opens up tactical possibilities for counter-kills."
He deleted the video immediately. His greatest secret couldn't risk exposure.
Death Refining was undeniably powerful, but far from foolproof. In this zombie-infested hellscape, it was potentially disastrous. Dying surrounded by a horde wouldn't mean resurrection; it meant becoming an immortal chew toy for the undead.
But the test wasn't just about timing. He needed to confirm a hypothesis.
Roy stretched, then swung his sword with full force several times. The bone-deep weariness and muscle aches from earlier combat were gone. His strength was back at its peak. The clarity in his mind confirmed it: his mental energy, his spirit, felt fully restored too.
Just as he'd suspected. Death Refining wasn't merely "respawn at full HP."
[Death Refining] (Passive) - Resurrects in a Complete State within a certain time after death (10 seconds + 30 seconds per percentage point of body loss). Simultaneously removes all positive and negative status effects.
That phrase – Complete State – had always stood out. He vividly remembered the descriptions for rare S-rank items like Phoenix Down or skills like Life Goddess's Blessing. They promised a "Whole State" or "Full Recovery," focusing solely on physical wounds and missing limbs. Complete State felt... different. Broader. It implied restoration of all attributes. And now, the evidence was clear: it included expended energy reserves. A single word's difference, but the implications were vast.
"Hypothesis confirmed," Roy murmured. "Time to begin..."
He wiped the drying blood from his face using the security room mirror. The crisp, new black uniform, his refreshed vitality, and his naturally unassuming, almost boyish smile created a stark contrast. He looked nothing like the slaughterhouse veteran who'd carved through undead hordes moments before – more like a harmless kid next door. It was his curse, that deceivingly innocent face. Anyone who knew him understood that beneath the surface lay something far darker.
He opened the door. The figure with the longsword stepped back into the corridor outside the security room.
This time, caution was abandoned. He charged headlong towards the waiting cluster of undead.
Groans erupted. Clumsy hands reached for him.
Roy exploded into motion. His sword flashed in a savage, horizontal arc, a crescent moon of cold steel. The air screamed as the blade sheared through rotten flesh and brittle bone. Two heads, chunks of shoulder, and severed arms tumbled through the air.
Without pause, driven by pure momentum, he pivoted. The blade reversed, cleaving horizontally with brutal force. A zombie was severed at the waist, its top half cartwheeling away, trailing glistening entrails before slamming to the floor meters away.
"Goddammit! Bad angle!" Roy cursed under his breath. Instinct took over. He whipped the sword down in a vicious overhead strike. The blade split the skull of a lunging zombie like firewood, carving a deep 'V' from crown to collarbone. The two halves peeled apart, spilling gore as the body crumpled.