Brazil won, so there’s going to be an extra chapter to celebrate.
PART 1
September 5th, Sunday.
Day 12 of the Apocalypse.
It is the early hours of the morning; most are asleep, and Ethan wakes up.
He grabs something to eat from his inventory and checks his [Condition].
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[CONDITION]
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Health: 100%
Hunger: 45%
Thirst: 64%
Fatigue: 0%
Stress: 15%
Fear: 0%
Pain: 5%
Status Effects: [Well-Rested] – [Dehydrated] – [Cold Desensitization] – [Nicotine Withdrawal]…
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He looks out the window, leaning back as he opens it and lights a cigarette.
Images flash before him—the illusion of bodies surrounding him, children…
“Why didn’t you save us?”
“You knew!”
“It’s your fault!”
Their screams and weeping.
Having an Intelligence stat of 10—the biological pinnacle—isn’t exactly a blessing when faced with a traumatized mind.
He trembles, feeling the stress mounting.
But this isn’t a game.
He feels the guilt, the crushing weight; he knows what he’s done.
He isn’t some reckless, sociopathic bastard who commits these acts without a second thought.
Ethan isn’t a protagonist defined by genetics who, simply because he has a system, prioritizes efficiency to artificially push his limits to the max.
What good is hitting the system’s cap?
He still won’t be able to withstand bullets, even if he reaches Level 10 in every skill and physical attribute.
He remains essentially human.
He might break past normal limits—even doubling or quadrupling his physical capabilities—but while he might easily survive smaller calibers, larger ones…
…
Ethan steps out; his gaze sweeps over the classrooms that have been converted into living quarters.
Bunk beds have been set up, with sheets hung as makeshift partitions to provide a modicum of privacy.
He extends his senses and chuckles; a few perverts are taking the opportunity for some intimacy.
He looks away—he’s no pervert.
But then he frowns.
He breaks into a run, bursting into a second-floor classroom, drawing his axe, and—without hesitation—burying it in the back of an older figure’s neck.
His sudden entry and the noise alert everyone; screams erupt.
Ethan snarls as he swings the axe again, finishing off the person who had been lying on the bed.
People slowly crowd in, flashlights cutting through the dark to reveal Ethan panting over two bodies with split-open skulls.
“WHAT DID I SAY?!” – Ethan roars.
– “I’m gone for one damn day, and look what happens!” – Roaring, he grabs the older man who had been killed, pulling him up and exposing an arm infected with an obvious bite wound.
…
Dawn breaks, and the atmosphere is heavy.
With two bodies now needing to be moved, Ethan tries to piece together what happened.
He discovers the older man had arrived yesterday—one of many people from the houses they had searched.
They had claimed he was inspected.
One of the militia members who brought the old man in approaches with his head down, still groggy with sleep.
– “I’m sorry, sir, I—”
Bang!
Ethan punches him in the face, breaking his nose and knocking him to the ground.
– “QUIET!” – Ethan roars at those who try to step in; his presence is so ferocious that no one dares to advance.
“YOUR RECKLESSNESS KILLED A WOMAN!” – Ethan roars, grabbing the man and dragging him out to the courtyard.
– “She died without making a sound, without alerting a soul!”
He forces him to his knees, making him look at the woman—her face torn open, her throat slashed, blood still trickling, her body still warm.
“Children!
There are children in that place.
She would have turned in a few minutes—an hour at most.
She would have turned, and by then, he would have claimed one or two more victims.
The place would have descended into chaos—how many would have died?
HOW MANY?!” – Ethan shoves him aside.
“Your recklessness could have cost at least three lives.
AT LEAST!” – Ethan roars.
– “Now, you useless, reckless, sloppy fool!
You are going to wrap up both bodies, load them into a pickup truck, drive to our cemetery, and bury them there.
No one is going to help you, and if I find out anyone does, they’ll be punished just the same.
You’re going to bury them, and I’m going to go there later to see for myself.” “Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” someone in the crowd asks.
Ethan glares at him.
“Too much?
That idiot didn’t follow the damn protocols!
I created them for a reason, and look—two people dead.
How many more could have died?
How many children could have been trampled in the chaos?
So yeah, I’m going to be ‘too much.’ I’m going to tear into that useless son of a bitch who can’t follow a simple order for everyone’s safety!
Now go do what I told you, or you won’t have a place here!”
The man nods; clutching his nose, he goes to fetch cloths to wrap the bodies.
Ethan snorts in sheer rage.
…
“It’s good to have you back,” Clark says with a smile, and Ethan nods.
“What happened to Lee?” he asks.
“What do you mean?” Clark blinks.
Ethan takes a drag on his cigarette and looks him in the eye.
“Lee Everett—he’s shaking like he’s cold and looks lost.
Not to mention you idiots seem to like him even more than usual, so…
what happened?”
Clark nods and explains.
“Nathan?
That brat?
I see…
tell Lee to come speak with me later.
I also want you to round up the people who were out rescuing others; I’m going to punish them all,” Ethan says.
“Punish them?
But why?” Clark blinks.
Ethan stares at him.
“Clark.
I smelled blood.
I could have ignored it—since the whole school still reeks of rotting blood—but I followed my gut and averted a disaster.
What would have happened if I hadn’t stepped in?
There were at least twenty people scattered across that room.
How long until the first infected person heard a cough or a snore and stopped eating just to kill someone else?
How long until that poor woman who died without a voice got back up and tore into the first poor soul within reach?”
“It only takes one mistake to doom dozens of lives.
And it’s not just bites that infect; scratches do, too.
How many could have been scratched and infected?
Chaos could have spread; children could have gotten caught up in it.”
“And don’t tell me I’m exaggerating; I’m being realistic.
If I hadn’t woken up and decided to go for a walk, we would have lost good men and women over a foolish mistake.
That can’t happen again—ever,” Ethan says firmly.
“I understand…
but we’re running out of space.”
“I know,” Ethan nods.
“That’s why I plan to redistribute some survivors to the nearby houses.
It’ll be temporary, but we’ve already cleared a good portion of the area, and in a few more days, we should be done clearing the city.” “I think that’s a good idea; a lot of conflicts arise from living in such close quarters.” – Clark smiles.
“Good.
Now, tell me one thing.” – Ethan stops what he’s doing and stares at him; Clark grows concerned at that look.
– “Why is there a backhoe in front of the school?”
Lee Everett was summoned to the roof, where he found Ethan smoking his eighth cigarette—and it was still morning.
“Want one?” Ethan offered.
Lee looked at it and accepted; he didn’t smoke, but honestly, he didn’t care anymore.
Ethan lit the cigarette for him; the history teacher coughed but took a drag.
“That wasn’t your first kill, was it?” Ethan asked, gazing from the parapet down at the courtyard, where the survivors had set up scattered rainwater collection structures.
Lee trembled.
“How did you know?”
“You killed a man in cold blood,” Ethan said.
“They said Clark hesitated; you covered him and fired.
I’m grateful for that—Clark…
he isn’t ready for something like this.
He’s a good man—maybe too good.”
“I realized you had demons when I first met you.
But you protected a child with your life, even though she meant nothing to you.
I let it slide back then, but I can’t ignore it anymore.” Ethan’s expression turned serious.
“Who did you kill, and why?”
“Why didn’t you kill your ex-wife and her lover?” Lee countered with a question of his own.
Ethan raised an eyebrow, confused by the question.
“Is that how it’s going to be?
Fine.” He gave a scornful laugh.
“I was young.
I’d always been more level-headed than most—people said being a cop was perfect for me because I stayed calm under pressure.
When I saw them in my bed—the very bed where my ex-wife and I had tried to conceive, where we’d talked about our dreams—I had the gun and the motive.
I could have killed them, but I would have ruined my own life—everything I’d fought for.
I might have spent decades in prison over a single moment.
All because two degenerates found it easier to screw around behind my back than to just break up with me and be together.”
Lee lowered his head and said, “I couldn’t think that way.” He offered a weak smile.
“I lost my mind; it went blank, and before I knew it, I’d already done it… I was arrested and being taken to Meriwether Prison when the transport vehicle hit one of the infected.
We crashed, and shortly after that, I found Clementine.”
Ethan sees no lie in his words.
He studies him—the regret and the pain—recognizing himself in the man standing before him.
“Good.” Ethan nods and takes another drag of his cigarette.
“Don’t tell that story to anyone else.
In the world as it is now, the number of killers is only going to rise; there will likely be more killers than innocent people.
But being a killer is a necessity now; in the past, it was a choice.
Do you understand?”
“Yeah… but why are you going to protect me?” Lee swallows hard.
Ethan is still a cop, and he knows the man before him is in the business of eliminating threats.
“I’m not doing this because we picked the wrong women,” Ethan says.
“You killed Nathan without hesitation, yet you were clearly filled with regret and remorse.
Your heart is in the right place; you just haven’t gotten used to it yet… want to know who my first kill was?”
Lee listens.
“Dina’s mother,” Ethan says, and Lee is surprised.
“A strong, brave woman.
She fled her home seeking help, running through streets infested with those things while clutching a terrified, weeping little girl.
She was scratched, had hair torn out, chunks missing from her shoulders, legs mangled—and yet, she fought desperately to save her daughter, who didn’t suffer so much as a scratch.” Ethan omits the bruise on her shoulder.
“She was on the ground, and I promised I’d protect her daughter.
Then I killed her to end her suffering.
My first kill… it was gentle, necessary, and I have no regrets; I knew there was nothing I could do to help her.
But after that, I kept killing—out of necessity or to protect others.
I killed people out of mercy, and… the count is over fifty.”
Lee trembles as he hears this.
“Life is made of choices, Lee Everett.
You chose to kill those people; you chose to save and protect an eight-year-old girl.
You’ve shown me you’re a good man who made the wrong choices, but who has the determination to try and do what is right and necessary.”
Ethan extends a hand.
Lee looks at it, hesitates, but shakes it.
A firm grip.
“You aren’t a bad man.
If Nathan had been captured, I would have killed him.
If not you, someone else might have killed him there; there’s no shortage of people willing to do it.”
“Does it get any easier?” Lee asks.
“I’d like to say no, but I’d be lying.” Ethan nods.
“Killing is killing—a life lost.
Whether it was an act of mercy, protection, or a way to prevent something worse, it’s still taking a life.
I admit I’m numb, but I remember the face of everyone I’ve killed, every single moment, and I’ll take that to the grave.
I can’t let it affect me, though, so I’ll adapt and go as far as I can.”
Lee nods and asks for another cigarette, since he’d only taken two drags before forgetting about it.
Ethan hands him the cigarette, and together they watch.
“I heard the zombie pits were your idea,” Ethan says.
“Yeah.” Lee nods.
“I had that plan too.
But it would’ve been too much work, and I was planning to suggest it later.
Still, I’m glad it came up early—we’ll be able to save ammo that way.” Ethan smiles.
PART 3
As early afternoon sets in and many are having lunch, a dejected man—isolated from the rest—sweats profusely while digging two graves.
An elderly couple approaches, leaves a packed meal for the man, and walks away.
…
Ethan studies the map they brought, overlaying it with his system’s map.
“Strategically speaking, regarding the route to the neighboring city, these three points are the best locations for the initial trenches.” He circles three open areas.
“We’ll have to cut down some trees, but the timber can be used to reinforce our farm fences.”
“Combined with traps and the presence of survivors and infected wandering the woods, this will drastically reduce long-term risks.”
Hearing Ethan’s words, Lee asks, “But just those three starting points?”
“Initially, yes.
Our biggest problem is the neighboring city.
We’re firing a lot of guns; that’s bound to attract plenty of them.
They might be lost in the woods for now, but sooner or later they’ll become a problem—especially once we start putting up walls.”
“After these three trenches, I want dozens more scattered all around the city; in fact, we should extend the line of trenches as far as possible between here and Atlanta,” Ethan points out.
Everyone understands; Atlanta is a massive population center with millions of inhabitants.
The sheer number of infected that could pour out of the city toward them is colossal.
With these trenches, they could handle hundreds or even thousands of them on a weekly basis.
If a massive horde came to cause trouble, the trenches would fill up and significantly thin out their numbers.
Strategically speaking, it’s an absolutely essential measure for any community.
‘I think something like this only appeared during the Governor’s arc…
why didn’t they use this strategy more often in the series?’ Ethan wondered.
It’s a simple concept; even without heavy machinery, digging trenches one or two meters deep wouldn’t be a problem.
Implementing this across entire bases would simply make them safer.
Of course, in a few years—as the number of the undead dwindles due to harsh winters and decomposition—this method will become less useful; erecting thorny barricades here and there will be the better option then.
“Well, we have the machinery and the manpower.
I’ll oversee things,” Ethan says, and everyone agrees.
…
Work begins.
The backhoe is driven to the first site; there aren’t many trees, so they start digging, and Ethan slowly ventures into the forest.
No one says a word; they simply know he is doing his job.
About an hour later, Ethan returns with a bloodied axe; his men have finished off the zombies drawn by the noise.
Ethan looks at the two massive boulders that have been removed.
The excavator operator is highly skilled, but the job will still take three to four days.
Ethan lights a cigarette and realizes his inventory supply has run out; he’ll need to grab more from the stash at his house.
Just then, a piercing sound echoes from the sky.
They look up and spot helicopters—dozens of them—heading from Atlanta toward who knows where.
Likely military bases or government bunkers.
‘I remember Atlanta getting bombed…
are they abandoning the city?
Is the bombing about to start?’ Ethan frowns.
…
Work continues while he heads home to restock his cigarettes and meet with his trusted allies.
He tells them he’s going back to investigate Atlanta; something feels very wrong.
No one disagrees; some volunteer to go along, but Ethan declines.
…
He spends the night killing zombies—using only a knife, not his axe—until his kill count reaches 1,000.
Upon reaching a kill count of 1,000 zombies, Ethan received +1 Skill Level, which he once again allocated to [Fitness], effectively raising it to Level 8.
An incredible sensation washed over him; his body crackled as he grew stronger and healthier.
Yet, looking at the XP—79 / 1,000—he realized it would take months to reach Level 6.
Saving that XP was a good idea; he might need to purchase Traits in the future, or perhaps discard existing ones.
In fact, he could already buy some interesting options, such as “Strong Stomach.”
There was also [Night Vision]; while it wouldn’t grant perfect night vision, it would allow his eyes to adapt more quickly to the dark.
Sensory Traits were useless to him due to [Radar Sense], though some could certainly help amplify the effectiveness of his power.
Regardless, Ethan raised his Fitness from Level 5 to 6, consuming 921 XP.
Effectively, his Fitness reached Level 9.
He experienced qualitative changes throughout his body—an uncanny sense of well-being accompanied by a level of strength he doubted was humanly possible.
As he moved and breathed, he marveled at the sheer health and vigor he possessed—yet there he was, living proof of it.
Curiously, his carrying capacity jumped from around 800 kg to 1,001.85 kg.
In other words, he had officially surpassed the one-ton mark.
PART 4
Monday, September 6th.
Day 13 of the Apocalypse.
Ethan drives along the roads, dealing with the dead in his path and encountering a constant stream of people fleeing Atlanta—the volume is higher than before.
There are so many people that lines of vehicles are forming.
“I wonder where all these people are going…” Ethan says, taking up a good, elevated vantage point to observe it all.
He has chosen a gas station; from the roof, he has a view of Atlanta and of anyone passing by to scavenge or refuel.
It is also a good spot for Ethan to watch people, size them up, and perhaps take some of them out.
Ethan knows that the quarry—where Shane’s group camps in the series—is in the opposite direction from where he is now.
The chances of seeing them around here are slim.
…
Camping on the roof, he watches the passersby—scared, hungry people who don’t stay long, afraid of who might show up, especially the military.
But then there are those people—the ones with that telltale laughter, already forming their heinous groups.
These are the people who become Ethan’s targets.
When they enter the station’s store to investigate, Ethan takes them down; this confuses the others, who come looking for their allies only to be cut down themselves.
By the time they realize something is wrong, Ethan is already moving in with a suppressed pistol to finish them off.
He stores their bodies in his inventory and dumps them aside, moves their vehicles behind the station, collects their supplies, and returns to the roof to wait.
The next group to appear consists of families practically enslaved by those who hold the weapons and provisions.
One man boasts about taking another man’s wife, ordering the husband to go see if there is anything to eat.
Ethan identifies the target and takes him out.
Sniper rifle shots ring out, and the group descends into chaos.
The few who try to fight back are rewarded with a bullet hole in the forehead.
[Aiming] reached Level 6, revealing that while constant headshots on zombies yield 2 to 3 times the usual XP per shot, doing so against living people grants far more.
After finishing, Ethan climbs down and, aiming his weapon at the man who had come to investigate, says, “Go back, take your captors’ weapons, supplies, and vehicles, then you can leave.”
The man doesn’t question him and simply flees.
Ethan gathers the bodies and disposes of them.
With this, his human kill count reached 95.
[8]: 4 Charisma.
[3]: 4 → 5 Charisma.
[7]: 5 → 6 Charisma.
14 kills in a single day, and it’s still morning.
Five more kills, and he’ll hit the 100 mark.
Ethan assesses his gear, preparing for more takedowns.
Time passes, and the next group appears, but they pose no real threat.
Another group shows up—nothing there, either.
It isn’t until the fifth group that he encounters people who are clearly terrible.
Three of them end up dead; their vehicle is dumped behind the gas station.
Night falls slowly.
Ethan radios his team and decides to spend the night up at the vantage point.
…
Overnight, the gas station turns into a campsite.
Ethan stays hidden, listening in but tuning out anything irrelevant.
Morning arrives, and the group moves on.
Hours later, while Ethan is enjoying a decent breakfast, a group of scavengers arrives.
How does he know they’re scavengers?
They’re laughing as they talk about what they took from an overweight woman.
There are six of them.
Ethan employs his usual tactics; with their deaths, his kill count reaches 104.
First come the three attribute rolls; he targets [Agility].
[2]: 5 Agility.
[4]: 5 Agility.
[5]: 5 → 6 Agility.
But that wasn’t all.
Reaching 100 kills unlocked an extra benefit, allowing him to make a choice.
[1st]: +3 Levels.
[2nd]: +1 to 3 attributes of your choice.
[3rd]: +25kg inventory capacity.
[4th]: +1km Mapping Range.
[5th]: 1 Ally Slot.
Ethan raises an eyebrow—solid rewards.
The three levels are the best option; if he gets lucky—though it’s a long shot—he could gain 9 attribute points.
Plus, a 15.7% increase in inventory capacity.
The second choice offers a fixed bonus.
“Wait… if I choose that and dump everything into INT or WILL, wouldn’t I break the limits and end up with 11 in one of them?” His eyes light up; how he wishes it were a physical attribute.
But Ethan doesn’t plan on boosting his INT; it’s already absurdly high.
Honestly, it gives him so many incredible ideas, yet he remains unable to use them all due to a lack of technology, time, and confidence.
WILL would be the safe choice; it would help with his shattered psyche.
He ignores the third option.
The fourth option is excellent—it would double his mapping range—but, frankly, it’s somewhat irrelevant right now.
But the final reward…
[Ally Function]
– Slots: 0 / 0
– One slot is gained for every 100 survivors with Loyalty and Goodwill scores above 60 points.
(Cannot be lost)
– “Allies” grant you access to a customizable status screen.
Changes made will neither be felt by the target nor noticed by those around them.
– Individuals designated as “Allies” become incapable of betraying the user.
– Individuals designated as “Allies” cannot possess attributes superior to the user’s.
– Individuals under the leadership of “Allies” count as your subordinates.
Loyalty and Goodwill directed toward them are also directed toward you.
– …
Ethan is astonished to see this.
He had believed he would be the only one with abilities pushing the limits of human potential—something that would set him apart from the rest.
Sooner or later, he had planned to head out and hunt zombies on his own.
But now…
he could create Allies, place them in charge of communities, and reap the benefits.
From what he could see, their levels were comparable to his own, as were the milestones for killing zombies and people.
In other words, it was a copy of his own system, yet the subjects remained unaware that they were under its influence.
What was particularly interesting was that Ethan could turn anyone into an Ally; he wasn’t limited to those who already followed him.
In a moment of dire need, he could turn an enemy into an Ally.
That would be a massive abuse of the system—a truly broken feature.
Ethan smiled, thinking of Clark.
He selected the fifth reward.
He gathered that for every 100 survivors with a loyalty or goodwill rating above 60 points, he would permanently gain an extra slot.
And this effect was cumulative.
Suppose he reached the milestone with 400 survivors, but a plague struck and only 200 remained; if he then recovered over the following months to reach 500 survivors, his slots would increase from four to five.
Even if the 300 new survivors held loyalty and goodwill toward him, it was the total sum that mattered.
Even now, with around 200 survivors under his protection, the effect hadn’t triggered.
This indicated that more than half of them didn’t yet view him as their leader—or simply didn’t grasp the situation.
But Ethan believed that would change once Atlanta was bombed.
Once they saw that their hope for the future lay with this man, things would change very quickly.
Ethan closed the system menu.
He listened to the conversations around him and realized the military was no longer seen in Atlanta; they had moved elsewhere.
Apparently, a multitude of vehicles were following them, clogging up the roads.
But generally speaking, there was an evacuation order; no one is supposed to stay in the city center.
Ethan understands that the worst is coming.