Death, that's the only constant in the current world.
Thirteen years after the great collapse of 2036, the event that opened a rift from the dark realm to Earth.
The world was plunged into chaos as the military struggled to contain the threat, zombies turning urban cities into a bloody painting, ghosts roaming the world and taking out lone survivors.
Even eldritch gods that bloated the sky, instilling madness in those who see their form.
However, despite this, humanity still survived, because with death came balance —a boon that all sentient beings gained to combat the threat.
A system like gift that guaranteed power to those lucky enough to gain the highest tiers.
Creating multiple fortress cities across the world from old-world capitals, protected by hunters who specialized in taking down the dark threats.
And some unlucky, blessed with terrible luck that gave them terrible boons.
And Erick was one of them.
Tap. tap. tap.
The dilapidated streets of old Jersey rang out as Erick ran through them.
Beath heavy.
"Shit, shit, shit!"
He was armed with simple military fatigues and an AK-47, one of the most reliable weapons since the great collapse.
But even then, it was useless against what was chasing him.
GROWL.
A horde of zombies.
THUD.
The sound of a door closing echoed as Erick immediately went inside a ruined corporate building for shelter.
"Come on!"
He grunted, pushing a cabinet onto the door to barricade it, allowing for a brief respite.
His boon, you ask?
The Vermin.
A completely average human, except for having enhanced eyesight and hearing, but it was only barely better than average.
"Open System!"
[Erick M. Matthews]
[Boon: Vermin]
Str: 4
Dex: 2
End: 2
Int: 3
[Skills]
- Pesky Little Rat: ???
- Aiming (Lvl 4)
His stats were decent despite his terrible boon, with one being the average baseline for their race.
Each system stats vary across species, with the undead's version of one being drastically different from a human's.
And in Erick's case, he had the physique of an Olympic player.
"Goddammit! I only have 3 mags left..."
He bit his lip, pressing his back against a wall as he prepared to fire, the upper stairs of the building completely blocked by rubble.
But despite the situation, he snickered, a cold, detached one.
"Well... I guess it's fitting."
CRASH.
The zombies had finally broken through, the horde charging straight into Erick to feast on his flesh.
"You'll bastards die along with me!"
BANG! BANG! BANG!
SPLAT! SPLAT!
Erick shot without even aiming. With a horde that big, he was guaranteed to hit something anyway.
SPLAT! SPLAT!
He took out a couple, but of course, it wasn't enough.
CRUNCH.
"Fuck! Get away, bastard!"
He yelled out, grabbing his knife from his belt as he stabbed the zombie's head that bit him.
CRUNCH.
Another one bit him, this time on the legs.
He was done for, with each second passing adding another bite.
"F-fuck you!"
He yelled out as he was now being eaten alive, but he had one more trick up his sleeve.
A grenade.
He planned to take everyone out with him.
"See you all in hell!"
BOOM!
The huge explosion covered the entire first floor of the building, with the old, unmaintained concrete being unable to withstand the blast as it crumbled.
Causing the entire thing to fall and bury both Erick and the zombies alive.
At least.
That's what was supposed to happen.
[Pesky Little Rat: Activated]
[Persistent vermin like you never truly die... do they?]
In the rubble, a mangled hand twitched.