Edited By: Bruce Williams
Chapter 6 Finally steadying himself, Mo Fan let out a slow breath, his gaze shifting to the shattered windows of the skyscraper. As he looked down at the city, what he saw sharply contrasted with the memories he’d inherited. The bustling metropolis was no more; charred cars lay abandoned and destroyed along the roads, their metal twisted, with smoke and flames clawing at the sky from multiple points. Most buildings lay in ruins, their frames barely recognizable, and the air was thick with swirling, yellowish particles, stinging his eyes and burning his lungs. Breathing in this poisoned atmosphere felt like swallowing ash. Mo Fan’s eyes narrowed, a hint of wonder beneath his usually steely gaze. He hadn’t anticipated that these so-called nuclear bombs would ravage the city to such an extent. The destruction was absolute, a haunting picture of human ambition laid to waste. And now, the undead_ zombies had risen, turning this world of mortals into a hellscape, a strange mingling of supernatural and the unforgiving finality of human weaponry. “Pity I detonated the orb of greed,” he muttered, his voice edged with regret, “That power would’ve been useful here, a way to grow stronger in this chaotic world.” He allowed himself a fleeting sigh, a rare expression of vulnerability before he straightened, his gaze hardening. “Since I’m here, in this borrowed body, perhaps I should take on the name of its former owner. He had a family—a wife, a child. Maybe I’ll do right by him if I ever come across them. But first, I need to get out of this ruin.” As he spoke to himself, a hint of conflict flickered within him, even if his face betrayed nothing. Mo Fan had always been ruthless; he’d cut down countless lives to achieve his past ambitions. It had shaped him into a man who wore his cold bloodedness like armor, and yet, here he was, considering honoring the man whose life he’d taken over. It wasn’t pure sentimentality—Mo Fan was no hypocrite. He owed no debt, but he understood the weight of obligation. Perhaps it was a sense of twisted honor, or maybe a mere acknowledgement of borrowed time. He had a code, after all. He helped those who helped him, destroyed those who tried to destroy him, and saved those who stood by him when darkness closed in. He could easily choose to disappear from this place, leave the remnants of the Maverick family to their own fate. Given the scale of destruction and the zombies rampaging through the city, it was unlikely anyone would even remember the original man whose body he now inhabited. But as he replayed fragments of the man’s memories, he felt a vague, nagging pull. If their paths crossed, he would help them. And then, when his obligation was met, he’d vanish from their lives as quickly as he’d entered—like a shadow in a city of ashes. Achooo! Mo Fan, now adopting the name Maverick, sneezed sharply, rubbing his nose with his elbow. The yellowish particles floating thickly in the air felt invasive, subtly affecting him at a cellular level. His skin prickled with an uncomfortable heat, an eerie sensation of being slowly baked from the inside out. An itching irritation lingered, clawing beneath his skin like an infection trying to dig its way in. Recalling the strange notification he’d received from the so-called “system,” Maverick moved swiftly. He ducked into one of the building’s dilapidated restrooms, his eyes scanning for anything useful. He spotted a still-functioning tap, a rare relief in the chaos. Wasting no time, he grabbed a frayed towel from a cabinet, soaked it in the cold water, and wrapped it tightly around his face. Breathing through the damp cloth, he felt the relief wash over him as the suffocating haze became more manageable. Although the particles still clung to the air, seeping into his lungs, the makeshift mask reduced their impact, allowing him to draw in deeper breaths without the choking sting. Finally, Maverick allowed himself a moment to steady his nerves. His mind sharpened as his breathing evened out, though an insistent ding in his brain quickly drew his attention. Recognizing it as the system’s presence, he closed his eyes, focusing inward, and summoned it to the forefront of his mind. •••• Name: Maverick Slade Nickname: The Stormbringer Class: Special Operations Agent (Counter-Terrorism Expert) Attributes: - Strength: 18 (+4) - Agility: 20 (+5) - Endurance: 16 (+3) - Intelligence: 12 (+1) - Perception: 14 (+2) - Charisma: 10 (+0) - Vitality: 10 (+0) Skills: - Marksmanship: +5 - Tactical Combat: +4 - Surveillance: +3 - Hand-to-Hand Combat: +10 (Krav Maga) - Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE): +8 - CQB (Close Quarters Battle): +5 Abilities: - "Tactical Training" (Passive): +10% damage when in CQB situations. - "Operational Focus" (Active): +20% accuracy for 5 seconds (Cooldown: 30 seconds). - "Counter-Terrorism Expert" (Passive): +10% resistance to explosive damage. Special Operations Skills: - "Sniper's Eye" (Active): Deals 200 damage to a single target from 500 meters (Cooldown: 60 seconds). - "Flash Bang" (Active): Disorients enemies within 10 meters, reducing accuracy by 50% for 10 seconds (Cooldown: 90 seconds). --- System Notifications: [Warning: Hazardous Environmental Conditions Detected, due to the nuclear explosion, radiation in the environment has increased to a extremely high level!] Breathing-Related Challenges: 1. Radioactive Particles: Dangerous airborne particles inhaled may cause severe internal radiation exposure. 2. Toxic Gases: High risk of exposure to chlorine, phosgene, or hydrogen cyanide, released by chemical reactions in the atmosphere. 3. Airborne Contaminants: Elevated levels of fallout particles, heavy metals, and airborne pollutants. 4. Oxygen Deficiency: Reduced oxygen levels likely due to nuclear winter conditions hindering photosynthesis. 5. Respiratory Issues: Increased likelihood of respiratory diseases and infections due to compromised air quality. Protective Measures Recommended: 1. Use Gas Masks or Respirators: Essential for filtering radioactive particles and toxic gases. 2. Secure an Oxygen Supply System: Obtain a reliable source of clean oxygen for safe breathing. 3. Implement Air Purification Systems: Vital to remove airborne contaminants and pollutants. 4. Seek Sealed Environments: Take shelter in bunkers, sealed buildings, or other fortified locations. 5. Improvised Protection: Use thick, water-soaked cloths tied around your nose and mouth for basic filtration. NEW NOTIFICATIONS!!! --- Alert: Unidentified Energy Detected. 0.6% > Source: Recent zombies terminated Type: Unrecognized energy resembling performance enhancers Analysis: Can boost the host's stats quickly if reaches 0.10% or more. A new notification pops up, adjusting to it's databases. Option Available: Energy absorption detected—potential for immediate stat boosts. > Select stat to boost: Strength: Moderate Agility: Slight Vitality: Low The system, uncertain but adaptable, displays a final line: > Warning: Unable to classify energy origin. Continue with caution.Edited By: Bruce Williams Chapter 7Maverick stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the hologram before him, processing the information displayed with a mixture of disbelief and fascination. It was as though he could grasp the meaning of the words before him and yet, a veil of incomprehension lingered over it all."Why does this remind me of the Ball of Greed?" he murmured, almost to himself.Memories flooded back, dark and vivid, of the ruthless path he’d walked to pursue that forbidden power. Driven by a singular ambition, he’d sacrificed countless lives to create it. The Ball of Greed—an artifact so potent that even the self-proclaimed righteous heroes had hidden behind moral facades, claiming they sought justice, when, in reality, they coveted its strength.According to the ancient, forbidden text where he’d uncovered its secrets, the Ball of Greed possessed only two abilities, but each was unparalleled in their world. The first was the power to absorb energy—whether life force or d
Edited By: Bruce Williams Chapter 8Maverick's face was expressionless, his eyes cold with a look of indifferent as he squared off with the two male 'couples' zombies. Both were hunched, jaws slack, with trails of dark, thick drool dripping from their cracked lips. Their dried, exposed muscles twitched as they lunged at him, each move desperate to sink their jagged teeth into his flesh.Swoosh!In a smooth, practiced motion, Maverick sidestepped the first zombie’s attack. His body moved with a smooth transition, a knife flashing in each hand. Before the creature could react, he drove his left knife cleanly under its chin, the blade piercing through the roof of its mouth and into its brain. The zombie froze, its body momentarily suspended in his grip as blood and white brain matter seeped down the steel. With a quick jerk, he withdrew the knife and let the lifeless body crumple to the floor.The second zombie snarled, its hollow eyes wild as it lunged forward, clawing at him. Maveric
Edited By: Bruce Williams Chapter 9 With a single thought, Maverick pulled up his stats display. --- Name: Maverick Slade Nickname: The Stormbringer Class: Special Operations Agent (Counter-Terrorism Expert) Energy: 0.10% Attributes: Strength: 22 Agility: 22 Endurance: 19 Intelligence: 13 Perception: 16 Charisma: 10 Vitality: 11 Skills: Marksmanship: +5 Tactical Combat: +4 Surveillance: +3 Hand-to-Hand Combat: +10 (Krav Maga) SERE (Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape): +8 CQB (Close Quarters Battle): +5 Abilities: "Tactical Training" (Passive): +10% damage in CQB situations "Operational Focus" (Active): +20% accuracy for 5 seconds (Cooldown: 30 seconds) "Counter-Terrorism Expert" (Passive): +10% resistance to explosive damage Special Operations Skills: "Sniper's Eye" (Active): Delivers 200 damage to a single target from up to 500 meters (Cooldown: 60 seconds) "Flash Bang" (Active): Disorients enemies within a 10-meter radius, reducing accuracy by 50% fo
Maverick was taken aback. He had encountered reanimated corpses before, but never had he seen one rise so quickly. In his old world, the undead required time—a death steeped in months of lingering Yin energy or the result of a demonic ritual requiring the barter of a soul. Both processes took weeks, if not months. Yet here stood Tom—or Tommy, whatever his name was—barely two minutes since death had claimed him, already upright and unnervingly animated.The snap of Tom’s head jerked clumsily in Maverick’s direction, his murky white eyes locking onto him with unnatural intensity. What was more alarming was the hatred emanating from him. It wasn’t the mindless rage of a zombie but something more... personal. The grudge Tom bore from his life had intensified, surging into an almost palpable killing intent.Maverick’s lips twitched into a faint, wary smirk. "This world is full of surprises," he muttered, his voice low and unruffled.Tom made no reply—perhaps he couldn’t. Instead, his head
Roarrrrrr!The guttural scream echoed through the confined space as the mutated zombie, Tom, slammed his grotesque frame into the reinforced walls. Maverick braced himself, his body taut as steel as he absorbed the shockwave of the creature's raw power. The impact hurled him backward, crashing him into the remaining glass wall of the lounge. Shards splintered around him, the jagged edges scraping his skin as he slid to the floor.Without hesitation, Maverick kicked off against the glass, using the momentum to propel himself laterally. He rolled across the ground just as a razor-sharp tongue speared through the air, impaling the spot he'd vacated mere seconds earlier.Maverick did not pause. His body moved with mechanical precision, every motion a calculated response to impending death. He surged toward Tom's room, slipping inside and slamming the door shut behind him.Bang!The door shuddered violently under a massive impact. Maverick barely managed to stagger back as the zombie force
The 47th floor descended into silence after the battle, leaving only the sharp echo of Maverick’s boots as they tapped against the corridor’s hard surface. The stillness was unnerving, punctuated by the faint hum of the city far below.After scavenging a bag and stuffing it with drinks and clothes he deemed useful, Maverick prepared to leave. His mind, however, was fixated on a peculiar thought. He replayed the events that turned Tom into a fully mutated zombie. An idea flickered—would slicing someone’s throat trigger the same transformation? Or was it the deep hatred of the victim fueling the mutation? He scanned his surroundings, but the devastation left behind by the nuclear blast rendered his theory untestable. Most people here were either dead or unconscious. Searching room by room for a survivor seemed an exercise in futility.As his thoughts churned, a faint buzzing sound tugged at his ears. It grew clearer, cutting through the oppressive silence. Maverick turned toward the nea
Maverick let out a muted sigh of irritation, the faint sound of air escaping his lips almost lost amidst the oppressive silence. His joints popped and cracked as he stretched, loosening the stiffness in his body. Without wasting time, he slipped off the bag slung over his shoulder and rummaged through it, pulling out a bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap with swift precision, he poured the cool liquid over his arms, scrubbing off the dark, sticky blood that clung to his skin.The idea of radiation seeping into his bloodstream and triggering some grotesque mutation was not something he intended to gamble with. As the water trickled down and splashed onto the floor, Maverick’s expression remained impassive. Once finished, he capped the bottle and slid it back into his bag before adjusting its straps.He moved to the stairwell of the 47th floor, his boots making muted thuds against the cold concrete. Each step was measured, his senses sharpened despite the lingering ringing in his ears f
Swoosh!The axe in Maverick's grasp whirled through the air, its edge cleaving into the zombie’s skull with a nauseating crunch. The creature didn’t even have time to let out a sound before it was obliterated, its brain matter splattering grotesquely across the wall. The lifeless body crumpled, sliding down until it slumped at the base of the bloodstained surface.Maverick’s gaze shifted to the horde below. Dozens of zombies shuffled aimlessly, their movements slow yet menacing. Instead of retreating, he stepped forward with measured intent, his posture unyielding. To him, these weren’t monsters to be feared; they were opportunities. Each kill held the promise of growth, a chance to absorb more strength.As these thoughts simmered, he found himself standing next to the corpse of the zombie he had just dispatched. Without hesitation, he tightened his grip on the axe and moved forward once more.Swoosh!Crunch!With each swing, Maverick tore through the undead like a blade slicing throu