PART 1
Thursday, September 9th.
Day 16 of the Apocalypse.
It is night—or rather, the early hours of the morning—when Ethan returns to the school.
On his way back, he encountered many people who didn’t belong in the town, breaking into houses and barricading themselves inside.
There had been numerous accidents.
Ethan sighs upon arriving at the school; because of its location on the outskirts, few people had come here.
Those who did were firmly turned away—after Ethan’s explosive outburst, no one wanted to risk angering him.
He finally arrives, utterly exhausted after fighting non-stop for nearly 48 hours.
With a cigarette in his mouth, he surveys the school entrance: three unfamiliar vehicles and families seeking refuge.
“You aren’t coming in,” Ethan states firmly, stepping toward the crowd; startled, they instinctively make way for him.
Ethan’s Charisma has reached level 10, and all his attributes are at the pinnacle of human capability.
Needless to say, his presence—combined with 48 hours of slaughter and everything else—radiates an aura of death so palpable that even the least sensitive among them recoil.
“Who are you?” a man asks hesitantly.
“I’m the one in charge.” Ethan stares the man down.
“And I gave the order: no one enters or leaves amidst this chaos.
I won’t put my people in danger for the sake of strangers.
There are plenty of cleared houses.
Barricade the doors and wait for further orders, but no one is getting into the school.
Anyone who tries to force their way in gets killed—infected or not.”
The crowd parts, and Ethan walks inside.
Clark comes to greet him, surprised by the aura he projects.
“I’m exhausted; we’ll assess the situation first thing tomorrow.
Any news on our people in the buildings?”
“Everything’s in order,” Clark says.
Ethan nods and finds a quiet spot to rest.
PART 2
Dawn breaks, but Ethan doesn’t wake up until 8 a.m.
He wanted to sleep longer, but those few hours of rest—despite his exhaustion—gave him just enough strength to keep going.
He activated [Radar Sense]—which now had more than triple its previous range—scanning for anything concerning.
Everything seemed to be in order.
“You could sleep a bit longer,” Clark says; knowing the answer already, he hands Ethan a mug of steaming black coffee, unsweetened.
Ethan doesn’t even reply.
“What’s the general situation?
I saw it yesterday: Atlanta was evacuated, and with the bombing, people are fleeing everywhere—abandoning their cars on jammed highways and roads.
We’re talking about thousands of refugees who, in a few days, will likely dwindle to hundreds.” He sighs; he’s done all he could, but he knows that even if he did a hundred times more, it still wouldn’t be enough.
“Our people in the buildings seem to be okay, but we aren’t getting much information from the farms.” Clark looks worried.
“I don’t see Jerome; did you send him to take a look?” Ethan asks, and Clark nods.
“Okay, gather everyone.
I’m going to give an update,” Ethan says.
Clark nods.
…
Climbing onto a table and looking out at the crowd of over a hundred people, Ethan clears his throat and speaks.
“As you all know, I’m Ethan Walker, Deputy Sheriff of Linden County.
I’m thirty-one years old, and I won’t be modest about this: I’m the one running around like a madman, killing the dead that shouldn’t be moving, saving people, and killing those who deserve to die.
The world is getting worse by the day, and I am what I am—jury, judge, and executioner.
Simple as that.”
Murmurs break out among the crowd.
“Silence!” Ethan speaks firmly, and everyone falls silent; even without raising his voice, the effect of his 10 Charisma—his social magnetism, his voice—is almost hypnotic to these people.
“On the night of September 7th—two days ago—Atlanta, a city I believe you’ve all visited dozens of times, was firebombed with napalm.
From what I’ve been told, it’s called Operation Cobalt.” Ethan glances at Elijah.
“I’m an ex-soldier; I deserted because I disagreed with the high command’s decisions,” Elijah shouts as he introduces himself.
“Based on what I was told and what I saw with my own eyes: the military abandoned us—all of us.
They evacuated as many survivors as they could from the cities, then set them ablaze to cut down the number of walking dead.”
“You might think this is some top-secret operation, that they’re going to contain the damage, but you’re wrong!” Ethan sighs.
“It means that, officially, the United States government has lost to this global catastrophe.
Major cities like Atlanta were abandoned and firebombed to curb the spread of the dead as much as possible.”
Arguments break out, but Ethan lets them talk.
He closes his eyes, gauging the general sentiment.
“But!” he shouts.
“That’s no reason for us to give up or give in to despair.”
“Atlanta is going to become a nest of monsters.
Even if the napalm killed everything in the city center, the noise will draw in the dead from nearby towns and the city’s most populous areas, forming colossal hordes that will likely stay there for a long time.
But not forever.” Ethan’s gaze is steady.
“As you well know, my people and I—that is, our militia of police officers, farmers, and anyone with a gun who knows how to use it—have been working day and night to keep everyone safe: rescuing those trapped in their homes without food or water, and sending the dead where they belong.”
“But our resources are limited, and we need more.
Now that the government has abandoned us, now that Atlanta has become a ticking time bomb, and now that refugees from Atlanta—and even neighboring towns—will be wandering everywhere, it is time for us to unite more than ever and build a future.
Because, as you can see, no miracle is coming from the heavens.”
Ethan watches as more whispers and doubts arise.
A woman asks, “Do we have to fight the dead?”
Ethan looks at her and says, “Yes.
It’s no longer optional; in today’s world, it’s mandatory.
In case you haven’t noticed, there are likely more of those things out there than there are of us by now.
We have to thin their numbers, build walls, and protect ourselves from the monsters outside—and I’m not just talking about the dead, but other people, too.”
“Our community manages to sustain itself thanks to the farms helping us out and the supplies we scavenge from homes and markets.
But that won’t last forever—time is running out, especially if more people join us.”
“But out there, not everyone has our luck or strength.
People are starving, killing each other for scraps, or even eating one another.
The world isn’t going to get better; it’s going to get worse for a long time.
And in case you haven’t noticed, winter is coming.
We have no power—heaters won’t help us.
That means this will be one of the coldest winters yet, the first of many.”
Many shiver.
“We have to stockpile food and firewood; we’ll have to work our hardest, or we’ll die.
I won’t be gentle, and I won’t coddle anyone.
Everyone has to contribute—old, young, men, women, children—EVERYONE!
There’s no room for argument.
Don’t like it?
The door is open for anyone who wants to leave.
They don’t give a shit who you are—only whether your flesh is still warm.”
“So consider yourselves warned!” Ethan roars firmly.
“If we want to survive, we all have to work and cooperate.”
PART 3
The entire community begins to move, and Ethan grips Clark’s shoulder; he needs to touch the target—even if only for a brief moment—to grant him the [Ally] status.
[Image] >
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[ CLARK WILLCHER ]
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Survival Level: 5+0 (16 / 21)
EXP: 208
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[ ATTRIBUTES ]
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• Strength: 3 / 10
• Constitution: 3 / 10
• Dexterity: 4 / 10
• Agility: 3 / 10
• Perception: 4 / 10
• Intelligence: 4 / 10
• Willpower: 4 / 10
• Charisma: 5 / 10
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[ CONDITION ]
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Health: 98%
Hunger: 20%
Thirst: 19%
Fatigue: 7%
Stress: 21%
Fear: 12%
Pain: 4%
Status Effects: Anxiety(II) Cautious(I) Worried(II)
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[ TRAITS ]
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[Positive]
• Police
• Brave
• Empathic Leader
• Resilient
[Negative]
• Soft-Hearted
• Pacifist
• Restless Sleeper
• Smoker
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Ethan smiles faintly.
With five levels to spend and a record showing 104 zombie kills, his hard work is evident.
Interestingly, Allies also possess an inventory.
Although they aren’t consciously aware of it, they can use it without anyone nearby noticing; however, Ethan is the one who must actually place items inside it.
In other words, Ethan needs to manage his allies’ inventories.
Fortunately, there are plenty of spare storage slots, and he can remotely access his allies’ status and inventory.
Ethan asked Clark to check on the people in the buildings and assess the situation on the streets, while he went to gather the items needed to equip Clark.
The inventory load jumped from 40.08 kg to 295.33 kg.
Next, he helped address Clark’s greatest weakness: his low Willpower.
Clark is brave and fearless—a good man.
Yet, he is deeply affected by the current state of the world; if he fails to adapt, it will swallow him whole.
[6]: 4 → 5 Willpower.
[5]: 5 → 6 Willpower.
[4]: 6 Willpower.
At level 1, it’s an excellent gain.
A Willpower of 6 is enough, so the points went into Intelligence; your friend needs a sharper mind to process things.
[5]: 4 Intelligence.
[9]: 4 Intelligence.
[3]: 4 → 5 Intelligence.
‘I think 5 is good enough; it classifies him as Talented.
Now, for his survival…
I think a Perception of 6 is a must.’ – Ethan thinks, then invests the points.
[10]: 4 Perception.
[3]: 4 → 5 Perception.
[2]: 5 Perception.
[2]: 5 Perception.
[10]: 5 → 6 Perception.
[8]: 6 → 7 Perception.
‘It went a little beyond expectations, but it’s perfect just the way it is.’ – Ethan smiles.
For the final level, he selects Constitution.
[3]: 3 → 4 Constitution.
[4]: 4 → 5 Constitution.
[8]: 5 → 6 Constitution.
In an instant, his Constitution shifted from that of an average human to that of an athlete.
Ethan has to admit his friend is incredibly lucky.
…
Ethan runs into Clark on the street.
“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be coming this way,” Clark says, surprised to see him.
It turns out that having an [Ally] comes with plenty of perks.
Clark is literally moving across his [Map], meaning he always knows where Clark is.
Not to mention that Clark maps out the surroundings himself, causing Ethan’s [Map] to update.
Of course, while Ethan’s range is 1 km, Clark’s is 500 m.
“Yeah, I guess despite the crazy last few days, I managed to get a good night’s sleep,” Clark says with a laugh.
“You and Jasmine found time for that?” Ethan teases, and Clark gives him the middle finger.
PART 4
Assured that Clark is safe, healthy, and mentally more stable than before, Ethan sees just how beneficial the system is to others.
He leaves ammunition, extra weapons, and food stored in Clark’s inventory—emergency supplies.
No one will suspect anything when Clark retrieves them, as the system seems to be warping reality around him.
Ethan wishes the same thing happened to him, but it seems he is the exception to the rule.
…
The city is in chaos.
All the effort put into clearing the streets has gone to waste.
Dozens—perhaps 100 to 150—people must have invaded the city and taken up residence in various houses, bringing the undead with them from the surrounding forests and nearby towns.
Naturally, the hordes that had gathered at strategic locations have scattered once more, making passage difficult.
Ethan spots a group of zombies ahead and dismounts.
He draws a riot shield, wields an axe in his other hand, and advances fearlessly.
He blocks an attack, then surges forward, knocking down half a dozen of them.
The current Ethan is absurdly strong; bench-pressing 500 kilograms wouldn’t be difficult.
Deadlifting a ton might not even be impossible.
Of course, he has no reason to push himself to such extremes.
Once things stabilize, he’ll set up a gym for himself and the militia to train in.
They will strive to improve their physiques, and Ethan, for his part, aims to boost his Fitness stat to Level 10.
However, he doubts he can reach the limit without the aid of EXP.
He is fairly certain he will need over 30,000 EXP to max it out.
…
The pack of zombies ahead is obliterated.
Ethan swings his axe with effortless ease; his strength is such that if the blade gets stuck, he doesn’t even bother trying to pry it loose or stow it in his inventory—he simply swings it anyway.
If the blow doesn’t tear the target apart, the head comes loose and smashes into another zombie.
Ethan makes several stops across the city, slaughtering the gathered hordes while ignoring the survivors he passes.
Clark finds him.
“I knew if I followed the trail of corpses, I’d find you, Boss.” He chuckles as Ethan lights up another cigarette.
“Need something?” Ethan asks, noting that Clark’s zombie kill count has risen by nearly a third.
“It’s about Jerome; something seems to be going on.
They just radioed for backup.”
Ethan raises an eyebrow.
“Alright.
I’ll go take a look—I should be enough.
You focus on guarding the school and managing any survivors who want to join us.
I don’t want any surprises.”
Clark nods; his confidence in Ethan is absolute, so he doesn’t question him going alone to back up a dozen of his men.
But looking around at the dozens of mutilated undead, it’s hardly a surprise.
…
Flashback to earlier that morning.
Jerome Manson—father of four: two boys and two girls.
He was having his coffee; he and his family—Bianca and Dina—are currently staying at Ethan’s house.
Ethan had asked them to stay there and guard the place—just as Arthur and Damian had occupied Clark’s house—since these fortified locations were bound to attract refugees.
Jerome smokes as he watches the younger children wake up, yawning and wishing him a good morning.
Hearing his daughters call him “Daddy” is deeply gratifying, and his gratitude toward Ethan only grows.
He doesn’t even want to imagine what might have happened if he hadn’t listened to Ethan.
He could have sent his children to school, just like so many other reckless parents.
He could have died on the way to get them, just as many parents did.
He could have been bitten and, in a panic, turned into the undead—even killing his own family.
So many things could have gone wrong.
But he followed Ethan, and today his family is whole—even though he has no news about his siblings and parents, or his wife’s family.
They had warned everyone; most people ignored or even insulted them.
Despite the sadness and longing he feels, he knows this is the end of the world.
Having his beautiful wife and four children together and healthy—able to think about building a future for them—is a privilege that 99% of the remaining families do not have.
And all of this thanks to a single man.
<> “Mr.
Jerome, are you there?”
“Phineas?
What is it, kid?” – Jerome smiles at the voice coming from the radio.
<> “I’m glad you’re there.
Mr.
Jerome, we need help.
There are so many people, all kinds of vehicles, and… the death toll is rising.
We really need help.”
“Okay, don’t let anyone in—dead or alive.
If they try to force their way in, shoot to kill.
I know it sounds extreme, but we can’t take the risk.
I’m taking my crew over there,” Jerome says hurriedly, breaking into a run.
“Dad, what happened?” asks Jacob, standing beside his fifteen-year-old brother, Marcus.
“Trouble at the farms; I need to round up the guys and go,” Jerome says.
“Okay, I’m coming too,” says Jacob.
“Me too.” Marcus clenches his fists; he wants to help.
“No, neither of you is going,” Jerome refuses.
“This is far more dangerous, and we’re guarding this place.
Ethan’s house is important—there are weapons and supplies here.
We can’t let strangers, or anyone we don’t trust, get in and take them.”
“And you two need to stay and protect your sisters and Dina; your mom and Aunt Bianca can take care of themselves,” Jerome adds, well aware that his wife is right behind him and Bianca is within sight.
The last thing he wants is to upset the mother of his children or the boss’s girlfriend.
His sons have no say in the matter.
Jerome quickly puts on a vest, checks the pickup truck and the ammunition, and—with a nod—starts driving; Bianca and Kate open the gate and close it again as soon as he leaves.
Jerome heads to an outpost near one of the traps—where his crew is stationed, close to the school.
Entering the garage and finding everyone there, he begins: “I’m taking half of you.
The chaos is just getting started, and there’s trouble at the farms.
Reload all your weapons and get ready; once Ethan starts making his move, we might not even have time to sleep.”
No one complains; they’ve had plenty of rest since yesterday.
Their confidence in Ethan only grows.
Not only do they see their leader slaughtering the undead and purging the scum of society, but they also see that everything he says comes true.
May his plans always work out, and may—miraculously—no one manage to argue with him and come out on top.