A faint red glow burned deep in Magnus Vane’s eyes, becoming noticeably brighter whenever he looked toward the Blood Moon.
He sat behind the wheel breathing heavily, his heartbeat pounding so hard that it almost seemed loud enough to hear outside the SUV.
Both hands gripped the steering wheel until veins stood out along his forearms, while heat from his accelerated circulation made every breath leave his mouth like steam.
Magnus looked less like an exhausted survivor and more like a machine being pushed toward maximum output.
Thump!
Magnus turned his head.
A walker stood outside the passenger window, repeatedly slamming its forehead against the glass.
It couldn’t clearly see through the darkened window, yet something under the Blood Moon seemed to tell it exactly where Magnus was.
The weak impacts quickly turned violent until skin split across its face and black blood smeared the glass.
Magnus glanced at the dashboard clock.
11:59 PM.
“One minute.”
He shifted the SUV into gear and tightened both hands around the wheel.
The red light in his eyes deepened as the walker continued smashing itself against the window.
When midnight finally arrived, Magnus stomped on the accelerator and sent the SUV roaring down the road.
He glanced into the rearview mirror.
The walker was running.
Magnus’s eyes widened slightly.
The corpse sprinted after the vehicle with an awkward but disturbingly human-like stride, its arms jerking strangely while its legs carried it far faster than any walker Magnus had encountered before.
Lightning suddenly ripped across the blood-red sky, briefly illuminating more moving shapes behind it.
A dozen.
Then several more.
All of them were running.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
There were fewer than twenty, but that didn’t make the situation safe.
Their speed was only somewhat slower than an average healthy adult, and if Magnus let them surround him in the open, even his Level 6 body and boosted Strength wouldn’t prevent them from dragging him down.
A single mistake against more than a dozen Berserkers could still end with him being torn apart.
Magnus gritted his teeth and checked the mirror again.
“These are supposed to be the same walkers that can barely walk straight during the day?” Another flash of lightning cut through the red haze, exposing the horde sprinting relentlessly after him.
They showed no exhaustion, pain, or fear—only an overwhelming need to reach their target.
The Blood Moon seemed to follow directly above the SUV as Magnus drove.
Wherever he went, the crimson light remained fixed overhead, making it feel as though he carried the event with him.
Under that light, the Berserkers continued chasing without slowing, while Magnus’s system effectively placed him in direct opposition to them.
Either they would tear him apart, or he would turn them into experience.
Then the road ahead became familiar.
Magnus’s expression changed.
A vicious grin appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“Fighting all of you alone would be stupid.”
The fortified compound belonging to the motorcycle thieves appeared in the distance.
“But I know some people who can help.”
Magnus laughed under his breath and jerked the wheel.
“You want me dead that badly, system?
Too bad.”
The SUV slid sideways through the compound entrance and entered the courtyard with tires screaming across the pavement.
Bang!
The noise instantly woke everyone inside.
Magnus didn’t wait for them to respond.
He pulled the pin from the smoke grenade he had scavenged earlier and threw it into the courtyard, where thick smoke immediately began spreading around the parked vehicles.
With the Horse-Bone Sledgehammer strapped across his back, Magnus climbed onto the hood, stepped onto the SUV roof, and used his enhanced Strength to pull himself onto the nearest rooftop.
Doors slammed open below.
Rapid footsteps filled the building.
A bald man rushed into the courtyard first, followed by more than a dozen armed survivors.
His right hand was heavily bandaged, with burned skin and blood visible through the gauze from the vehicle explosions two nights earlier.
The moment he spotted Magnus’s SUV inside the compound, his face twisted with rage.
“You actually came back?!”
He raised his rifle and shouted toward the others.
“Watch the exits!
Nobody lets that bastard get away this time!” The destruction of their vehicles had prevented them from chasing Magnus and the Dixon brothers earlier, so seeing the same SUV return felt almost too good to be true.
More than a dozen survivors spread through the courtyard with guns raised, staring into the thick smoke.
A figure appeared inside the haze.
It staggered forward.
The bald man grinned.
“There!”
He pointed his rifle.
“Open fire!”
Gunfire exploded through the courtyard.
Muzzle flashes lit the smoke as more than a dozen guns fired at once, filling the air with the smell of powder.
Bullets tore into the moving figure from every direction, punching through its torso, arms, and legs until it finally collapsed onto the pavement.
The shooting gradually stopped as the smoke began to clear.
Several men cautiously approached.
The bald survivor pushed to the front and used his rifle to roll the body over.
His expression froze.
“What the hell?”
It was a walker.
Before anyone could react, low, animal-like snarls came from outside the gate.
One survivor slowly turned toward the sound, followed by another, until nearly everyone was staring in the same direction.
More than a dozen walkers stood outside the compound.
But something was wrong with them.
Their heads twitched sharply, their eyes tracked movement, and their entire bodies seemed charged with unnatural aggression.
They didn’t sway or stumble like normal walkers.
Even the armed men instinctively stepped backward.
The bald man stared for a moment, then waved dismissively.
“Shoot them.”
He turned away.
“Once they’re down, search the whole place.
Those three bastards have to be nearby, and tonight we finish this.
They killed our people, destroyed our vehicles, and—”
Gunfire erupted behind him.
Then came screaming.
The bald man stopped.
His breathing caught.
He turned around just as a rotten face appeared less than a foot away.
“Fu—”
He tried raising the rifle, but at that distance the weapon was too long to bring on target properly.
He fired from the hip instead, several bullets tearing into the walker’s abdomen and chest without stopping it.
The Berserker lunged forward and clamped its teeth into his face.
The man screamed as flesh tore loose around his eye.
He stumbled backward, but the walker attacked again and bit deeply into his throat, ripping away enough flesh that blood poured down his chest.
Within seconds, the bald man collapsed while the Berserker followed him to the ground.
The courtyard fell apart immediately.
The survivors fired wildly, but they were fighting the same way they fought ordinary walkers.
Most of their rounds struck chests, stomachs, and limbs—wounds that meant almost nothing to the dead unless the brain was destroyed.
Against enemies capable of sprinting through gunfire and closing distance in seconds, their normal tactics were useless.
From the rooftop, Magnus watched without the slightest sympathy.
“What a waste.”
This group had people, ammunition, weapons, and enough supplies to make Hershel’s farm look defenseless by comparison.
Under normal conditions they would have been a dangerous threat to almost any small survivor group.
Unfortunately for them, none of that preparation had included Blood Moon Berserkers.
Another survivor went down.
Then another.
“Fifteen against fifteen,” Magnus muttered.
The Berserkers were simply too fast for people accustomed to fighting slow walkers.
Their heads moved constantly, making clean shots far harder, and once they reached close range, rifles became clumsy while panic destroyed whatever coordination the survivors still had.
Screams echoed across the compound as one armed man after another disappeared beneath the dead.
Magnus rested the Horse-Bone Sledgehammer against the rooftop.
“Total wipeout.”
These people had survived by relying on superior numbers, guns, intimidation, and the willingness to rob weaker survivors before anyone could fight back.
They had believed having more weapons meant they controlled every encounter.
Tonight, Magnus had simply introduced them to something stronger.
The Blood Moon Berserkers had come looking for Magnus.
Instead, he had delivered them an entire compound full of prey.