Carter and his summoned warriors swept through the building, floor by floor, carving a path through the rotting chaos that had overtaken his home.
His breath was steady, his grip tight on his tactical knife—his only weapon.
The weight of it felt right in his hand, its sharpened edge gleaming under the dim, flickering hallway lights.
Alongside him, his warriors followed like shadows, their heavy clubs, spears, and stone axes at the ready.
They were cavemen, but they moved with the precision of an ancient hunting party, their primal instincts sharpened to a lethal edge.
Each step they took further into the unknown brought more revelations from the system.
Two unexplored tabs caught Carter's eye:
Zombie Encounters – A growing archive that automatically cataloged the types of undead they faced.
Basic Survival Guide – A repository of survival tactics that seemed to pull knowledge from the internet.
The first tab identified the zombies in the building as Walkers—swift, agile, and far stronger than the classic, shambling corpses from old horror movies.
These weren't the slow-moving undead of The Waking Dead.
They were monstrous predators, relentless, like those in World War X.
No wonder the city had collapsed so quickly.
A human couldn't outrun these things, not when we were bound by the limits of stamina.
Maybe the military could've held out—if they had dug in and fortified police stations, turned them into bunkers.
But on the streets?
In the open?
Humanity never stood a chance.
Their one weakness?
The head.
Destroying the skull dropped them instantly.
Severing the spine could disable them, but only temporarily.
Carter tightened his grip on his knife.
The knowledge was valuable, but up close, he'd have to be precise.
One mistake and it was over.
The Basic Survival Guide proved just as invaluable.
With every passing hour, power plants were going unmanned, and soon, the city would be plunged into darkness.
Without maintenance, nuclear reactors across the world would go into meltdown.
A slow-moving apocalypse within the apocalypse.
Carter exhaled sharply and focused on the present.
One crisis at a time.
They continued their methodical sweep, pushing deeper into the complex, moving down each floor.
Every so often, they'd encounter terrified civilians, huddled in their apartments, eyes hollow with fear.
The pleas were always the same.
"Help us! Please, are you military? Are you evacuating us?"
But Carter's response never changed.
"Stay indoors. barricade the doors. We're clearing the building."
They couldn't afford to escort survivors right now.
Not until the structure was secure.
As the warriors fought, Carter noticed another system feature—health bars.
The zombies had them, giving a clear indicator of how much damage they had sustained.
So did his troops.
And so far, none had dropped.
Thanks to their sheer physicality and the brutality of their weapons, the undead never even got close.
But Carter?
No armor.
No guns.
Just a knife.
One mistake, and he was dead.
Every floor, the warriors would pause in the stairwell, checking their weapons.
Carter became proficient with another crucial system function:
Restocking.
His warriors needed tools of war just as much as modern soldiers did.
Instead of bullets, they required new weapons, fresh from the system shop.
And so, every floor, he bought replacements for shattered clubs and dulled axes, while the ranged fighters munitions were restocked every other floor since they didn't get to see action nearly as much as the frontline troops.
It wasn't cheap—but the money his warriors earned through their kills was more than enough to fund their continued slaughter.
An endless cycle.
Carter didn't know whether to feel powerful or horrified.
By the time they reached the final set of staircases, 1, the strongest of the warriors, turned to him.
"Chief."
His voice was grim, his eyes locked on the hallway below.
"Many dead. Many fight."
Carter nodded.
He already knew.
The entrance would be swarming, since it was on ground level, and most humans fleeing the chaos would run to shelter, only resulting in leading those things here.
The real battle had yet to begin.
More warriors would be needed.
He opened the system and checked his stats.
[User: Carter Sherban]
Age: 29
Level: 4
Skills: Ranged Proficiency Lv. 2 | Melee Proficiency Lv. 3 | Driving Proficiency Lv. 3 | Mental Resistance Lv. 1
Health: 140/140
Experience Points: 1,800/5,000
Available Skill Points: 5
Current Balance: 17,600 dollars
Summoned Troops: 10/250
~
Enhancing Himself
The first thing he did?
Upgrade his skills.
He funneled all five skill points into Melee Proficiency—pushing it to Level 4.
A rush of knowledge slammed into his brain.
New techniques.
New instincts.
His grip on the knife felt steadier, his stance more refined.
His reaction time sharpened.
And yet, even with this new understanding, his movements were still not as fluid as those of the cavemen.
They were born for this, like they came preinstalled with Level 10 melee skills.
He on the other hand was still learning.
Next, he turned to the system shop.
The horde below would be too much for his current numbers.
He needed more warriors.
[Troops - Combat Troops]
Contact Soldier: 500 Dollars | Ranged Soldier: 750 dollars | Elite Hunter: 1,000 dollars
[Note: Troops do not come equipped with weapons. You must purchase weapons separately.]
Carter's Decision
9 Contact Soldiers. And a single Elite
Total cost? 5,500 dollars.
[Confirm Purchase?]
He pressed YES.
The floor beneath him lit up with ancient sigils, pulsing with primordial power.
And from them, ten more warriors emerged, their thick muscles flexing, eyes gleaming with raw, untamed ferocity.
They grunted in greeting, stepping into formation with silent discipline.
Carter wasted no time.
He opened the weapons shop, selecting their tools of war.
5x Reinforced Stone Clubs – 1,000 dollars each
4x Flint-Tipped Spears – 750 dollars each
1x Stone Axe - 1,250 dollars each
Total Cost: 9,250 dollars
Which left him with only 2,850 dollars remaining.
The moment he confirmed the purchase, their weapons materialized in their hands.
The new warriors examined their weapons, testing their balance, weight, and durability.
Satisfied, they grinned.
They were ready.
And as Carter gazed down at the horde below, a realization settled deep into his bones.
This was only the beginning.
The dead were many.
But his warriors?
They were the hunters of the ancient world.
And now, they would reclaim it.
Carter raised his knife, the cold metal glinting under the dim light.
"We move,"
he ordered.
And like a pack of wolves, his warriors followed.
The battle for the ground floor had begun.