For the next two days, Leon lived quietly, as if the world hadn't already begun counting down to its end. He spent them with methodical precision.
The bet had paid off exactly as he remembered. Arsenal's victory brought him a small fortune, enough to buy what mattered: bags of rice, beans, dried meat, bottled water, medical kits, batteries, lighters, and rolls of duct tape. With each purchase, he thought of how many had starved in his first life—how the bold who hunted for food became corpses for the brave, not this time.
When the last of the supplies arrived, Leon didn't take them home. Instead, he rented a truck and ferried everything to the glass tower that had just been completed downtown. Its size, structure, and defensible location made it perfect as a base. To everyone else, it was just another luxury development. To Leon, it was the place where he would defy the apocalypse.
....
Two days passed in a blur, and then the morning arrived. The day of Code 408D.
Leon stood before the steel gates of the tower, the loaded truck idling nearby. The confused security guards exchanged looks but said nothing, too wary of the strange young man with white hair and violet eyes.
He checked his watch every few seconds, eyes flicking to the crowd of pedestrians passing along the street. Any moment now.
'One final thing.'
Pulling out his phone, he opened WhatsApp and typed a short message to his only family left—his step-sister.
|Stay at home. I'll come get you.|
He hit send.
Then it came.
A pressure fell across the world like a storm front, subtle yet undeniable. Leon shivered, not from cold but recognition. The same suffocating weight as before.
[Code 408D initiated]
The words appeared before every human's eyes, a holographic projection none could dismiss. Gasps and cries filled the street, confusion rippling through the crowd. Before anyone could process it, the first guttural growls shattered the air.
Leon moved.
One of the guards clutched his head, body convulsing. His pupils burned yellow, teeth lengthening as his face twisted into something monstrous. Leon didn't hesitate—he drew his revolver and fired once.
Bang!
The bullet pierced the guard's skull, snapping his body backward. Blood sprayed the pavement, shocking the other guard into paralyzed silence.
The second guard turned, horrified. His eyes darted from Leon to his dead partner, his mouth opening to scream or demand an explanation.
He didn't get the chance.
Bang!
The guard crumpled, keys jangling as he hit the ground. Leon strode forward, grabbed the keyring, and punched the button to open the gates.
Vroom!
The truck roared as he climbed back in and accelerated through the opening. Zombies already prowled the street, but his noise drew them to other prey—their neighbors, coworkers, strangers too slow to flee. Their screams filled the air.
Inside the compound, Leon killed the engine, leapt out, and slammed the gate shut again. His heart hammered, but he allowed himself a breath.
'Stage one: cleared.'
Alone, he unloaded every sack and crate into the basement. The room quickly filled with provisions stacked to the ceiling. When the last bag landed with a dull thump, Leon crouched beside the final package—a sleek black suitcase.
He popped the latches.
Inside lay two revolvers, polished black steel. A pair of sleek katanas with midnight blades. A hunting knife strapped into a thigh sheath. And finally, a matte-black combat suit reinforced with light armor plating.
Leon whistled softly. "Efficient."
One by one, he strapped everything into place. The suit hugged his frame, the revolvers holstered at his hips, the blades strapped across his back. For the first time since his return, he felt like himself again.
Turning, he gazed at the sky in anticipation like he was waiting for something.
Before long, he saw them. Streaks of gold shot down from the skies and landed in different areas without making a sound. Even the dazzling colors disappeared.
However, Leon's eyes tracked everything.
"That one's inside the hospital."
He whispered, eyes locked on a particular building.
Once he chose his destination, he set out to hunt.
On the road, which was now void of living humans, zombies roamed about, their bodies covered in blood. Their once humane eyes had now turned yellow. Rows of jagged teeth lining their mouth, accompanied by a set of terrifying claws.
"The celestials are truly biased." Leon whispered to himself. The zombies had instantly gained an edge against humans as soon as the apocalypse began.
As two zombies rushed towards him with palpable bloodlust, he pulled out the revolvers and shot them on the head.
Thunk! Thunk!
The silencer reduced the sound of the gunshots as the two zombies dropped to the ground—dead.
He quickly moved over their bodies and dug out the crystal embedded in their forehead, stashing them in his pocket. He couldn't allow such valuable resources to go to waste.
Moving on, he stealthily took down several zombies from a distance and dug out their essence crystals. By the time he reached the hospital, he had killed over ten zombies.
'Oh damn!'
Cursing inwardly, he groaned, seeing how the hospital was full of zombies. The patients and doctors must have been turned either by the Code 408D itself or by bites from other zombies. There were probably no other survivor in the hospital.
Leon paused, then suddenly sprang forward, ignoring the fact that his actions attracted the attention of the zombies. They turned towards his fleeing figure, rushing after him like predators against prey. Unfortunately, Leon was no prey.
He smoothly unsheathed his katanas and skillfully beheaded the zombies that got too close while avoiding those who were gathered in twos and threes.
The automatic doors slid open with a faint chime, and Leon slipped inside before the small horde outside could follow. The smell hit him first—copper, rot, and disinfectant all tangled together. Blood streaked across the white tiles like crude graffiti, and overturned gurneys blocked half the hallway.
A faint groan echoed down the corridor.
Leon froze, his hand hovering near his revolver. One of the nurses—what remained of her—dragged herself across the floor, her lower half shredded. Her yellow eyes locked on him, and her jaw stretched unnaturally wide before she let out a piercing screech.
"Dammit."
The sound was a dinner bell. From the stairwell ahead, a dozen heads snapped toward him, necks twisting at impossible angles.
Leon didn't hesitate. Twin revolvers barked softly, muffled by silencers, and the first wave of zombies dropped one by one. He didn't linger. Crouching low, he sprinted up the stairwell two steps at a time, katanas flashing whenever one lunged too close.
The second floor was worse. Darkness swallowed the corridors where emergency lights had failed. Shadows twitched along the walls, and the wet slap of bare feet echoed from unseen rooms. He moved carefully, blade ready, forcing himself not to glance at the broken silhouettes inside the patient rooms—limbs bent backward, faces pressed against glass, fingers tapping faintly like insects against a jar.
Every sound mattered. Every shadow could be death.
He cleared the second floor methodically but found nothing. No golden streak, no gift package. Just bodies.
By the time he reached the third floor, his senses screamed at him.
The hallway was crowded—zombies packed shoulder to shoulder, all facing the same direction. They didn't shuffle or groan. They just stood there, silent, as if waiting for something inside the room ahead. Their yellow eyes glowed faintly in the dark, and the air itself felt heavier, almost reverent.
Leon's hand tightened on his sword hilt. Something was wrong. Zombies didn't… gather. Not like this.
He leaned against the wall, controlling his breathing. Charging through them head-on was suicide. Instead, he backtracked, slipped into an empty ward, and smashed open a window with the butt of his revolver. Shards clattered softly onto the pavement far below.
Balancing carefully, he slid out onto the ledge, hugging the wall as he edged toward the corner window of the crowded room. The wind tugged at his coat, threatening to drag him into the dark street below.
Finally, he peered through the grimy glass. And froze.
A hulking zombie sat at the center of the room, its massive frame taking up a quarter of the room.