The world ended on a day like any other.Marcus sprinted down the once familiar streets, now in the grip of chaos. Abandoned cars cluttered the road, their horns blaring uselessly into the dusty afternoon air. People ran in all directions, some screaming for help, others attacking each other in frenzied panic. The sky was tinged with an eerie red hue, a reminder of the catastrophe sweeping across the country. Just a few hours ago, everything had been normal. He had been normal.Then the news broke.It started like any other viral headline: "Breaking News! : Unexplained Violent Outbreaks Across the Country."At first, it was just contained random acts of aggression, riots erupting without cause in major cities. Marcus had seen the videos circulating online, each one more horrifying than the last: people attacking others with mindless rage, their eyes glazed over, faces twisted with unnatural hunger. Experts on TV scrambled for explanations ranging from terrorism, a new virus, or even m
Marcus stepped out of the bathroom, steam swirling behind him as he wiped the last droplets of water from his face. The grime and filth that had seeped from his body earlier were now washed away, leaving his skin feeling fresh and clean. The strange, almost euphoric high that had gripped him during the transformation had subsided, but the sense of renewal still lingered. His muscles, sore from the recent battle, now only ached faintly, as if the worst of the strain had been purged along with the dirt. He inhaled deeply, feeling the air fill his lungs more fully than before, as though his body had been reset. The infection that had threatened to overtake him was gone, but the changes it left behind were undeniable. He caught his reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink—a face he barely recognized anymore. His skin, once pale and sickly, now had a healthier glow, and his eyes, sharper and more alert, seemed to gleam with an intensity he hadn’t seen before.Then the screen popped
He glanced out through his window and caught sight of several infected roaming the street below. The eerie silence was occasionally broken by distant groans and shuffling feet. Marcus exhaled, grabbed his backpack, and moved toward the door.The hallway outside was eerily quiet. Marcus paused for a moment, listening intently for any movement. Nothing. He started down the stairs, taking care to make as little noise as possible. His thoughts were a jumble—his family, this infection, and whatever strange power had just been bestowed upon him. As he reached the ground floor, Marcus froze. A figure stood near the entrance, hunched over and twitching. His stomach sank as he recognized her—the building’s caretaker. She had always been unpleasant, quick to snap at residents over petty issues. Still, she didn’t deserve this fate.Her skin had taken on a pale, sickly hue, and her eyes, once sharp and judgmental were now clouded and dead. The infected caretaker suddenly let out a low growl, her
Marcus took a deep breath as he stepped outside, the chaos of the city now in full view. Smoke filled the air from burning cars, and the distant screams of panicked civilians echoed through the streets. It was a scene out of a nightmare—total anarchy. People were running, some trying to fight the infected, while others fled in desperation. The infected themselves were relentless, lunging at anyone in sight, their grotesque forms an all too horrifying reminder of what awaited anyone who failed to escape.Marcus’s eyes scanned his surroundings, his mind racing. He needed a plan. His first thought was simple: gather supplies. He couldn’t survive on just the clothes on his back, and the spatial pocket he had was a godsend in this situation. A quick inventory check showed he still had some basic items, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He needed food, water, and most importantly, a weapon, something reliable that didn’t drain his Aether. After his earlier fight, Marcus was acutely aware of his
He stood there for a moment, adrenaline still pulsing through him, the weight of the axe familiar in his hands. He was stronger now, faster too. The infected man would’ve overwhelmed him before. But now… now he could take their heads off. As gross as it looked...it felt good."Okay," he whispered to himself, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I can do this."The reality of the situation was becoming clear to him—this was his life now. Every encounter with the infected would be life or death. He couldn’t rely on his spatial blades for every fight, not with how much they drained him. The fire axe was a crude solution, but for now, it would do.With the infected man dealt with, Marcus made his way toward the exit. Outside, the city was still in chaos, but he had a plan now. He needed to keep moving, find a way out of the city, and make his way back to his family. The fire axe swung by his side as he jogged down the street, carefully avoiding the groups of infected scattered along the way.
As Marcus reached the makeshift barricade, the large bearded man stepped forward, his rifle still in hand but lowered now that Marcus posed no immediate threat. He was broad-shouldered, with sunken eyes that betrayed exhaustion and perhaps something more—wariness, or maybe even hopelessness. The man eyed Marcus from head to toe, sizing him up.“Introduce yourself,” the man barked, his voice deep and gruff.“Marcus,” he said simply, keeping his tone neutral but respectful. “like I said earlier, I'm just trying to find the best way out of the city."The bearded man grunted, seemingly satisfied with the brief response. “Name’s Briggs,” he said after a pause. “And since the world’s gone to shit, it’s hard to know who to trust. But I figure it’s better we have numbers. Safety in numbers, especially against those freaks.” He gestured vaguely behind Marcus, toward the direction where infected were still roaming in the distance.Marcus nodded. It made sense. Strength in numbers had always bee
Marcus noticed that the XP he got from each zombie varied. Some lower that his initial kill while some were higher. Marcus was still lost on the system's criteria for Xp distribution but he was sure it was something he would figure out soon enough The group reached a small pharmacy and decided to stop for a quick supply run. The streets around them were eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that made Marcus’s skin crawl. Despite the apparent silence, there was an underlying tension in the air, as if danger lurked just out of sight, waiting to strike. The pharmacy itself looked looted, shelves partially emptied and debris scattered across the floor from previous scavengers. Briggs and Erika moved inside first to scout the area, their movements deliberate and cautious. Meanwhile, Marcus and Ian stood near the entrance, tasked with keeping watch.The silence between Marcus and Ian was thick, almost suffocating. Every glance from Ian carried a palpable weight, as if his distrust was a phys
As they stepped out of the pharmacy, the cool air hit Marcus's face, doing little to quell the simmering anger within him. He glanced at Ian, whose contemptuous glare felt like a physical weight. Marcus had to take deep breaths to resist the urge to punch the man.Briggs, leading the way down the deserted street, took the point once more. Erika fell back with Marcus, who was beginning to feel the pain from his injury subside. The throbbing in his shoulder was less pronounced than before, a testament to the resilience his body had gained. This was a positive development, as he couldn't afford to show weakness now. Not when a certain someone was likely plotting against him."Hey," Erika said softly, concern etched on her face. "You did great back there. I know it was tough.""Yeah, well, Ian doesn't think so," Marcus replied, struggling to maintain his composure. "What's his problem? Do I look like someone who killed his parents or something?""He wasn't always like this," Erika explain
The night air was thick with tension as Briggs, Clara, Ian, and Erika pressed forward through the shadows, their every step calculated to avoid detection. They moved along the edges of abandoned vehicles and shattered barricades, the distant chaos of gunfire and screams serving as a grim reminder of their limited time. A sudden guttural growl stopped them in their tracks. From the corner of a dilapidated building, an infected stumbled into view, its lifeless eyes locking onto them. It hesitated for a fraction of a second before breaking into a sprint. "Down!" Clara hissed, pulling Ian to the ground as Briggs swung a metal pipe he had picked up earlier. The improvised weapon connected with a sickening crunch, sending the infected sprawling. Erika stepped forward, finishing it off with a swift strike from a crowbar she had scavenged. Ian stared at the corpse, his breathing ragged. "How...how are they moving so fast? Did they evolve or something?" "No time for a biology lesson," B
The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the quarantine zone in eerie shadows illuminated only by the harsh floodlights mounted on military vehicles. The once-distant sounds of chaos—screams, sporadic gunfire, and inhuman growls—was now all over the place.Inside the makeshift base, Clara, Ian, Erika and Briggs remained tense, huddled together near the edge of the cordoned area. The soldiers, now on high alert, barked orders and readied their weapons. Briggs paced, his ears keen on picking up anything that might clue them into the escalating situation. He froze when he heard a nearby soldier’s radio crackle to life. “Level 3 purge order confirmed,” the voice on the other end said coldly. “What’s the timeline?” the soldier asked, his face pale despite his hardened demeanor. “Eighteen hundred hours. No exceptions.” Briggs’s stomach dropped. He clenched his fists and turned back to the group. “They’re planning to kill everyone—infected or not probably.” Ian stared at him
After leaving the checkpoint where they had dropped their names and basic personal information, the military personnel directed the group to separate testing stations. Clara glanced around, noticing how the others were being led off in different directions, each to their own station. She was alone now, and that only heightened her nerves. “Step forward,” barked the medic at her station, motioning to the spot in front of him. Clara approached cautiously, keeping her expression calm despite the storm of thoughts racing through her mind. The medic adjusted his glasses and began explaining the procedure. “We’ll start with a temperature scan, followed by a quick blood draw. Standard protocol to check for any abnormalities,” he said, reaching for a handheld scanner. Alarm bells rang in Clara’s mind. 'Hell no.'Forcing a polite smile, she let her compulsion powers surge to life, their subtle influence weaving into the medic’s mind. Her thoughts pressed against his, implanting the sug
The floodlights made it nearly impossible to see beyond their glaring intensity. The command from the loudspeaker boomed once more. “Civilians! Kneel down with your hands on your heads! Do it now!” For a moment, the group stood frozen. Hope flickered briefly in Erika’s wide eyes. “It’s the military,” she whispered, her voice tinged with cautious optimism. “They’re here to help.” Marcus frowned, his grip on his axe loosening slightly. Briggs glanced at him and then at Clara, who looked skeptical but resigned. “Let’s not make this worse,” Briggs muttered. “If it’s the government, we might finally catch a break.” Reluctantly, Marcus lowered his axe, setting it on the ground with a dull thud. He dropped to his knees, raising his hands above his head. The others followed suit, although Clara hesitated for a heartbeat before complying, wincing as her injured shoulder protested. The sound of boots hitting pavement grew louder as soldiers descended from the helicopters on ropes,
The group trudged through the deserted streets, their boots crunching against the shattered glass and debris. Marcus walked in silence, his axe slung over his shoulder, but the thought gnawed at him. The vent—their supposed escape route—had been blocked earlier. Something about that didn’t sit right with him. Finally, unable to suppress his curiosity any longer, he broke the silence. “That vent,” Marcus started, his voice cutting through the eerie stillness. “It was blocked earlier. How?” Clara froze mid-step, her body tensing for a fraction of a second before she quickly resumed walking. Her mind raced. 'He’s suspicious.' Taking a deep breath, she focused her thoughts, reaching out mentally to Erika and Ian. This wasn’t just about silencing doubts—it required precision. Implanting false memories wasn’t her strongest suit, but she had no choice. She concentrated hard, weaving her thoughts into their minds. 'You didn’t block the vent. You never saw it blocked. Everything was norm
Marcus raised his pistol, aiming at the advancing bikers, only to hear the hollow click of an empty magazine. He cursed under his breath—he was out of ammo. With no other choice, he slung the pistol over his shoulder and pulled out his axe, gripping its handle tightly. The weapon felt reassuringly solid in his hand, its blade gleaming under the faint moonlight.Just as he was about to charge, a shot rang out, and Clara cried out in pain, clutching her arm as blood began to seep through her fingers. Marcus's jaw clenched as he glanced at her. This bastards were certainly not going to let them leave here alive.Without another thought, he surged forward, swinging his axe with brutal precision. The first biker he encountered barely had time to register the threat before Marcus buried the blade into his shoulder, forcing a shocked gasp from the man as he crumpled to the ground. Marcus wrenched the axe free, his eyes cold, and turned to the next target.Each swing was a blend of speed and
The bikers shoved Clara, Erika, and Ian forward, forcing them toward a crumbling, abandoned building looming like a haunted skeleton against the night sky. The gang members laughed and jeered, clearly enjoying the helplessness of their captives.Clara glanced around desperately, hoping to spot some way out. But before any plan could form, a sharp, commanding voice sliced through the evening air behind them."Release them, or I’ll start popping bullets," the voice drawled, cold and confident.Everyone turned, and there stood Briggs, holding a rifle steady and pointed at the gang, his expression all business. Beside him, Marcus watched with narrowed eyes, taking in the scene, his arms crossed and posture tense. His gaze was sharp, calculating.The tattooed leader barked out a laugh, his men’s guns immediately swiveling toward the newcomers. “Well, well,” he sneered, flashing a crooked smile, “look who decided to crash the party.”Briggs cocked his head, his finger resting just above the
As the sun dipped below the horizon, evening shadows stretched across the desolate streets, casting an eerie calm over the scene. Clara, Erika, and Ian carefully made their way out of the building, each step cautious, as if even the ground itself could betray them. Clara kept her grip on her compulsion spell, feeling its fraying edges; maintaining control over two people this long wasn’t easy, and it was beginning to wear on her.A burst of gunfire split the silence, distant but unmistakable. Ian’s head snapped up, a glimmer of hope lighting his face. “Think it could be Briggs?” he asked, his tone almost pleading.Erika shot him a look, harsh and skeptical. “Don’t be an idiot. We blocked the only exit. No one’s getting through there.”Ian became confused. “And why did we block the exit?"Erika’s face clouded over, and her expression wavered between confusion and irritation, as if her mind was trying to piece together a memory just out of reach. Clara felt her influence slipping, a tin
Elara lay tense in the pod as the warmth in her veins intensified, creeping through her arms, spreading up to her shoulders, and seeping into her core. Her body felt like it was being enveloped in a strange fire—both cold and burning at once. A sharp sting flared at the base of her spine, and she clenched her fists, trying to keep her breathing steady, but the sensation was relentless.The compound had triggered a reaction at the cellular level, initiating the "adaptive response" the old man had described. Deep within her, every cell was reacting to the foreign neutral gene, which was nudging each strand of her DNA into a new configuration, unlocking dormant sections of her genetic code. Elara could almost feel her body being rewritten, as if someone were tearing her apart and piecing her back together from the inside out.A sudden, stabbing pain shot through her chest, and she gasped, her body straining against the restraints as the heat turned searing. Her muscles tightened involunt