It was just a couple of hours until midnight on December 31. Everyone was gearing up to ring in the New Year—none of them had any idea they were about to step into a living hell.
"Five minutes to go!"
Kevin glanced at the clock. Its hands were inching toward twelve. He started counting down in his head: 5… 4… 3…
Ding, ding… the chimes outside marked the final moments of the year. Kevin's brow tightened. It was coming.
"Humanity stands at the brink. The gods will rebuild the age. Children of man—if you want to live, find Death Town. Enter that city of hope. It's your only chance."
In an instant, that cold, mechanical voice echoed in every ear around the globe. It sounded emotionless, like a lifeless recitation.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Some prank, right?"
"Stop messing with us!"
But less than a second later, the apocalypse began.
Kevin's last memory from his previous life kicked in—his so‑called "allies" had betrayed him over the Ferryman serum, hunting him for three days straight until he collapsed and died of exhaustion. He clenched his fists. "Whether that's why I'm back or not," he muttered, "I've been given a second chance. Even if the world ends again, I'll survive. Nobody kills me twice."
He strapped on his gear, slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder, and gripped his gun. By the time he was ready, screams tore through the streets outside.
Chaos had erupted. A middle‑aged man writhed under a zombie's jaws, blood gushing down his throat as he howled. Just like in his last life, Kevin had been terrified when it all began. He'd been lucky enough to dash into a mall's underground garage and hide for two days. When hunger drove him back out, he'd stumbled on a portal to Death Town in that same mall. It wasn't the only gateway, but it was the one he remembered.
"Help me!"
A ragged cry yanked Kevin back. In a side alley, a young woman sprinted into view and collapsed at his feet. Her right hand was caked in blood as she clutched his ankle. A long scratch ran across her back.
Without hesitation, Kevin raised his gun.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three shots blew through her skull. She stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief, unable to fathom his ruthlessness. She rasped, "I'll haunt you even as a ghost."
Kevin shrugged. "I gave you a chance to die quick. Otherwise, you wouldn't even make it to the afterlife."
Zombies carried a contagious virus one bite and you turned into one of them. Better to die fast than shuffle around hunting the living. Besides, Kevin wouldn't let an infected person get anywhere near him.
Several zombies stumbled out of the alley, obviously the ones who'd been chasing her. Now their target was Kevin.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
He cut one down so many times its head looked like a porcupine. It slumped to the pavement. The next zombie lunged—and Kevin rammed his gun butt into its face, sending it crashing. He yanked a knife free and slit its throat before it could rise again.
It all happened in a heartbeat. The third zombie pounced just as Kevin hit the ground. He raised his wrist—and it bit down hard, teeth scraping against his jacket.
"Die!" Kevin shoved the muzzle into its drooling mouth and pulled the trigger. Its head blew apart, and it fell limp.
A voice chimed in his ear: You killed a Basic Zombie. Total kills: 1. Reward: Basic Energy Crystal.
Kevin's eyes lit up. "A drop already?" he whispered, crouching by the corpse. He smashed its skull with his knife, pried it open, and dug out a glowing green shard. These life‑essence crystals were remnants of a person's spirit, crystallized when they rose as a zombie. They were rare even basic zombies only dropped them once in a thousand kills.
He wiped the blood off the crystal and slipped it into his pocket. He snagged some chocolate, beef jerky, and water bottles from a fallen pack and stuffed them into his bag.
He'd planned to rest in a convenience store—but the smashed window and noise would only attract more undead. Apologizing to the woman's body, he muttered, "Sorry. This is the end of the world."
Night fell fast. After hours of hunting, the streets had become graveyards. Corpses littered every corner, blood slick underfoot. Kevin paused when he spotted a small horde ahead. He shrugged off his pack, drew his recurve bow from his back, and nocked an arrow.
Whoosh! The arrow shot through a zombie's skull, pinning it to a car. The rest scattered, keening in the dark as they shuffled toward him.
Kevin didn't hesitate. He loosed arrow after arrow, each one crashing through a skull and splattering gore across the road. Zombies feel no pain—they only die if you smash their brains or snap their necks.
"You killed a zombie. Total kills: 4."
"You killed a zombie. Total kills: 5."
Before long, the blockade was cleared. His kill count hit 12. Every zombie he felled was proof of his progress—proof that he could survive.
Few living souls remained on the streets; most were already eaten or barricaded inside buildings. But hiding wasn't a long‑term strategy. The undead would eventually break in—and supplies ran out fast.
Kevin knew exactly where he had to go next. He shouldered his pack and pressed on into the night, determined to find Death Town or die trying.