Combat Emperor Zeta.
Erza was a rare Class-2 Awakened, and his skills and abilities were top class.
As the number of Awakened increases, humanity's competitive nature pushed their limits to unprecedented heights!
'The Combat Emperor has never lost a single combat.'
His name shot up to legendary status, almost mythical.
'He was also a recluse, a loner.'
Only when battles involving high levels of danger and risk, would he appear.
In his past life, Erza was only motivated by one goal: to get stronger!
Only when one is strong, one could live freely without fear.
With no attachments, he could focus his very being into his goal.
Aside from his 'Super Strength' Talent, his employment of an ancient martial art called the 'Kilat Arts' made him indomitable.
Originated more than a thousand years ago from the Nalay Archipelago, the martial art was created to enable its user to survive the harsh, ancient environment at that time.
As humans progressed into civilization, the martial arts evolved but still retained its core principles.
Nonetheless, the creation of firearms ended the golden age of physical combat.
In modern times, martial arts were only classified as 'contact sports'.
It no longer allowed the full potential of its techniques: to kill and maim its opponents.
Only a few living Grandmasters left in the world that inherited the true, original way of their respective arts.
And among them, was Erza's master.
In the second year of the apocalypse, he encountered an old woman living alone in the mountains.
Hungry and injured, he wanted to exchange items with her for food and shelter.
"Child, you're the first one that came here proposing a deal. The previous ones only knew how to bark and point guns."
Before Erza could reply, he passed out.
The old woman was touched by his gesture and decided to take care of him.
When he woke up, he tried to offer her Evolution Nectars as a way to thank her.
"Child, this old woman has no use for this! It's rather funny that such tiny little beads could make you stronger permanently!"
He tried to explain profusely, but in the end, it wasn't successful.
"Let me show you what it does."
At that time, he was only a Class-10 Awakened, almost reaching Class-9.
He was confident with his strength.
He went outside the house and walked towards a tree.
"Ha!"
Crack!
A fist was imprinted on a huge tree's trunk.
"See, it really makes you stronger!"
Erza said with a boastful tone.
The old lady looked at the impact Erza made with his punch.
She shook her head.
"Boy, let grandma show you how to 'punch'."
The old lady walks steadily to the tree that Erza punched.
Her wrinkly, dainty palm balled up into a fist.
Dhoom!
Crack! Crackle!
Craash!
The tree fell. Bits of wood and splinter broke out from the point of impact.
A fragile-looking old woman, not even reaching the height of Erza's chest had brought down a tree with her bare knuckles!
"H-h-how? W-What? Uh,uh-"
Erza's eyes almost popped out.
He wouldn't ever forget how that single punch made him feel.
"Not bad for my age, huh?"
He couldn't remember if it was because of his shock and his desire to get stronger, he immediately kneeled down to her.
"Old la-Ma'am, please teach me to become strong like you!"
And the rest is history.
'In this lifetime, I must find her. I want to re-pay my debt to her!'
Erza treated his master as his own grandmother.
Unfortunately, she passed away one year after he met her.
'She was 101 years old.'
She was healthy until the day she passed away.
She didn't have any illnesses prior.
'I'll convince her to take Evolution Nectars in this lifetime!'
For a year, he stayed in the mountains to train under her.
By the time she was at her deathbed, it was too late.
Erza didn't fully know the benefits that the pink beads would give.
He was only bent on getting stronger.
He didn't really care what happened to his looks, previously.
He only knew that the more Evolution Nectars he consumes, the stronger he gets.
…
The aftermath of his battle with the three S-2 Infected left cracks and mini-craters on the shelter.
It also left all the bystanders' mouths gaped wide.
Big Mark, Mrs. Numee, and Feera saw everything while they were shooting S-1 Infected from afar with crossbows.
They were dumbfounded on how a single Class-9 Awakened like themselves, handled three S-2s all alone!
Erza's pinging woke his team up.
Erza made a fist!
Out of four locations, they managed to save another relative and their families.
'That makes it two out of four. Not bad.'
Their helicopter heist turns out to be a fruitful one.
Crackle!
Erza proceeded to harvest the S-2 Evolution Nectars from their spine.
Just as Erza pocketed his spoils of war, a deep voice was heard.
"Wait! Hero, please wait!"
Several tens of people gathered in front of him.
They were the defending team of the survivors inside the Community Hall shelter.
Erza looked at them without saying a word.
"Hero, are you with the army? P-please, take us with you! We have some old and sick people with us!"
It was the same voice who called him. It belonged to a haggard man.
"I'm not with the army. You should go back inside."
Erza turned them down.
"But you came here with a helicopter, right? We saw you circling around and landed a few blocks away from here!"
A skinny man shouted.
A large helicopter like that makes thunderous rumblings that could be heard from miles away.
"Yeah, so?"
As Erza answered, he sensed that they would not leave him alone.
"Look, man, we have to help each other in these crazy times! Some of us saw your men taking a few of our people away?"
'Hmph, so this is what it's about.'
In desperate situations, humans would go to unimaginable lengths to live.
"Sorry, we're full. Just wait for the army."
Erza's words made them dissatisfied.
Why did they save some, and leave the rest behind? Why are they so special?
Kacha.
A gun was being cocked back.
It was aimed at Erza.
"Hey as*hole! We're not done here! We're leaving with the helicopter whether you let us or not!"
The same skinny man held Erza at gunpoint.
The other survivors were silently supporting him.
It could be their chance to fly away from this hellish nightmare.
"You. Don't. Want. To. Do. That."
Erza's killing intent leaked.
The survivors cowered, cold sweat pouring out from their pores.
The dangerous aura was so threatening that some fell to their knees.
"O-O-Oi! Don't you see what I'm holding here? Let me get on it! Or I'll b-blow your brains out!"
The skinny man barked while trembling.
"You think I give a sh*t?"
Erza nonchalantly answered.
Zoom-
Before any of the survivors finished blinking their eyes, Erza was gone.
"I'm in a good mood today, count yourself lucky."
By the time they heard his voice, he was already behind the skinny man.
"Heee-"
The skinny man panicked and turned to his back.
Click! Click!
"H-huh?!"
He pulled the trigger but nothing came out.
"I'll be taking this."
He held the gun's magazine in his palm.
'What sorcery is this?!'
They didn't even see when did Erza removed the bullets.
The events that happened in front of them was shocking.
They did see Erza engaging with the stronger, bigger zombies from afar, but it was more terrifying experiencing it themselves in front of their noses.
"I suggest you start repairing the damages rather than threatening someone you don't want to mess with."
It was almost dusk.
He needed to fly back to the hotel for safety.
He gave them one piece of advice as a token of appreciation for sheltering his blood relatives.
"Wait, Hero! Please forgive young Bainal!"
The elderly man got on his knees and kowtowed.
"Whatever, I have to go now. Don't lose hope."
Erza didn't intend to kill the skinny man, but the old man's demeanor convinced him that there are still good people left.
"Sir Hero, please! Before you go, please tell me your name!"
The man wanted to at least appreciate the man who saved his group from the clutches of death.
After thinking for a while, Erza muttered his other name who would be one of the most famous names in history.
"Zeta."
…
By 7.15 pm, they reached their hotel.
"How are they?"
Erza asked his mother.
"Better."
They were having dinner in their top-floor suite.
After reaching the hotel, they treated the injured or ill relatives and their family members.
They settled them in at the floor under them and let them rest.
Mrs. Numee could now diagnose a person's health condition by touch.
'It's as if Mom's hands are medical scanners.'
"How about you, Erza?"
Mrs. Numee asked with a concerned tone.
"I'm okay, Mom. Don't worry."
Out of habit, he said those words to make sure he doesn't show his weak side.
He couldn't show his frailty.
The harsh apocalypse would strike the weak, especially when one is down and exposed.
The survivors thrived on strength, and as Awakened, one would be preyed once their weakness is obvious!
'Your resources and Evolution Nectars would be taken away.'
In a dog eat dog world, one would do heinous things to survive.
Lovers betraying each other.
Brothers stabbing their own brother's back.
All for the sake of benefits.
For the sake of strength!
"Boy, you can't fool Mom. Come here!"
With a stern tone, she commanded Erza to sit on a chair beside her.
"Yes, Mom."
Erza was stunned as he was always the one giving instructions.
But in front of his mother, he was as obedient as a lion's cub to its lioness mother.
Mrs. Numee rests her right palm on her son's forehead.
She frowned.
"Erza! What do you mean you're okay?! You, you have injuries everywhere!"
She almost screamed on top of her lungs.
Erza could not answer her back.
One of his biggest weakness is that his body does not possess a high level of regeneration.
Although his Talent allows him to deal unspeakable level of damage, it doesn't mean his body is immune to damage itself.
As his power grows, the body would adapt by increasing its capacity to contain and withstand impact.
'Power output produces recoil. To utilize the output efficiently, one must know how to use it.'
Hence, Kilat Arts.
Sufficient rest periods are needed to heal the fine cracks and muscle tears from the result of prolonged battles.
But Erza's habit was something that was hard to change.
As he lived and fought alone most of the time, he had to reduce his resting time resulting in an incomplete healing process.
The damages accumulated would pile up and eventually render him full of old, unhealed injuries.
'A Talent does not come without its price.'
The Evolution Nectars only unlocks the maximum potential of a human, not making them a perfect being.
'No matter how powerful an Awakened is, they can still die.'
Either by old age, being killed, or from the repercussions of their power.
'The scientists did theorize that with the trend of evolution that the Evolution Nectar provides, they would eventually become a God-like being.'
The being would be free of the shackles snd constraint of humanity, of being mortal!
But before the theory could be proven, Erza was killed by a Strain-10 Infected in his past life.
The theory would remain a theory, for now.
Pa!
"There! All fixed up!"
Mrs. Numee gently smacked her son's shoulders.
Erza felt that the tiny, annoying sore all over his body was gone.
He felt refreshed.
"Thanks, Mum. Here, as payment."
He took out a dark pink Evolution Nectar.
"Tsk- Erza! Who do you think I am? I'm your mother! I'm supposed to take care of you!"
She clicked her tongue in anger.
To Mrs. Numee, it was a mother's job to protect her children no matter how old they get.
'Oh sh*t, I did it as a habit.'
During his past life, he would seek a healing-based Awakened when his injuries got quite severe.
Every Healer's services must be paid, and their preferred currency was Evolution Nectars.
That way, the Healers could still make an income despite being unable non-combatants.
They also needed the beads to buy food with, or grow stronger for a better survival chance.
"Thank you Mom, I love you."
In this new life, he made sure to say these words to his parents at least once a day.
'Only when one loses someone, would they start to truly appreciate them.'
Growing up, he didn't have a habit of showing his affections to his parents or brothers.
This almost 180° change of behavior was quite awkward for his family to accept at first.
"Mom loves you too. Now go to sleep, I can't heal the lack of rest."
Mrs. Numee smiled and sent his son to bed with a half-strict tone, a style unique to Asian mothers.
"Night Mom. See you in the morning."