Clifford?Clark furrowed his brow slightly but quickly found this information in his memory. It seemed that someone had called him by this name before he went to the Dream Party Hotel. It sounded familiar.
"What do you want?" Clark calmly asked, looking the man over.
Clifford, still catching his breath, hastily continued after swallowing a mouthful of saliva.
"Big brother, I want to join you guys. Please take me with you. I can work hard, I... I can endure hardships. I really can!"
To join his team? Clark didn't immediately agree. With his current mental strength, he could easily perceive that Clifford was just an ordinary player, with nothing particularly special about him. Taking him along would be no different from carrying dead weight.
Seeing that Clark hadn't responded, Clifford grew increasingly nervous. The man in front of him was the most powerful human he had seen in these days, or rather, the most powerful player. Even the guy with lightning abilities he had observed from the window ledge two days ago couldn't compare to Clark. Lightning may have seemed mysterious, but it only paralyzed zombies, a far cry from Clark, who could slice through hordes of them with a single strike.
Each slice of his blade haunted Clifford's thoughts. However, he didn't know that Clark's current strength was even more formidable than he could imagine.
Ever since Clark had ridden off on his motorcycle that day, Clifford had remained hidden in his room, too terrified to step outside. When Bernard and his group had scoured for food, he had squeezed himself into a cabinet and managed to avoid detection.
Eight days...
In those eight days, he had eaten everything edible in the house, including the succulents he had nurtured for several years. If he continued like this, he feared he would starve to death.
The scattered zombies that Clark's group considered a minor threat were like roaming demons to him.
"Big brother, I can really work... I promise... I won't hold you back."
"I'm definitely stronger than these women!"
Clifford quickly scanned the people behind Clark, his eyes filled with hope. In his view, if Clark was willing to take even little girls with him, there was no reason he wouldn't take an adult male like himself. After all, he had more strength than the girls, right?
Inside the car, Lynn furrowed her brow slightly but remained silent.
Stronger than her?
The man outside the car didn't notice the amusement in the corner of Clark's mouth when he heard this.
Lynn was no longer identifying herself as an awakened individual. However, even as a Tier 0 awakened, she had no trouble single-handedly dealing with small groups of zombies.
Clark opened the car door, gesturing for everyone to get in. He didn't like wasting time.
"Ten seconds, tell me what you can do."
Building a safe zone required manpower, and bringing this man along might not be a bad idea. But the prerequisite was that he needed to be useful.
In the doomsday game, whether you were a business elite or an artist, you were nothing more than a piece of meat that could run in front of zombies.
"Usefulness?" The man stood frozen for a moment and then frantically pondered what skills he might possess. Before the apocalypse, he was an architect, often creating building plans for clients. However, with electricity gone and computers turned into heaps of scrap, his skills were utterly useless in the current situation.
"I can drive!" Clifford anxiously grabbed the car door and pleaded with Dirk not to start the vehicle.
Clark remained calm. Knowing how to drive wasn't particularly useful. Among ordinary players, there were plenty who could drive, and awakened individuals could rival professional racecar drivers.
Clifford understood Clark's attitude and became increasingly desperate.
"I can grow vegetables and flowers! I enjoy doing these things in my spare time!"
"Please, please take me with you. I don't have the courage to survive on my own!"
"The zombies are too terrifying. If I stay here, they'll surely eat me!"
He spoke rapidly, fearing that Clark might start the car in the next second, and scattered zombies were already approaching in response to the noise. It was his first time encountering zombies outside, and he had already been scared to the point of trembling.
Clark shook his head, preparing to close the car window.
"If you don't know anything, you should at least have the courage."
Indeed, establishing a safe zone base required a group of experts in agricultural techniques. The supplies left from before the apocalypse couldn't sustain it for long. A base needed at least a team of nearly a thousand people to maintain basic operations. However, the man in front of him appeared to be an urban white-collar worker, and his farming skills were likely at an amateur level. What they needed were experts or experienced professional farmers.
The engine roared to life, and Clark didn't give the man a chance to continue speaking.
"If you can survive, you can find me at LJ City College. I'll need some help there."
With that, Clark handed out some canned goods and drinking water through a crack in the car window. As one of his kind, this was the extent of his goodwill. The man held the cans, looking dazed as the vehicle gradually moved away.
Clark had still given him a glimmer of hope. If the man could make it to the safe zone on his own, it meant he had learned the basics of survival. Someone who couldn't even muster the courage to face zombies or leave their house would only bring unnecessary trouble if allowed to join the team.
Inside the car, Marlene turned back to look at the man, her expression somewhat sympathetic, but she didn't speak up to try to persuade Clark.
Even though she was still a young girl, the experiences she had gone through in these days had taught her a lesson. The apocalypse was brutal, and no one would offer you assistance. Without strength, you couldn't expect to have a meal or stay alive. If you were attractive, perhaps you could trade your body for sustenance, for dignity, but if not, you would have to risk your life to survive.
In the distance, the zombies roared, and there were very few living people left in the residential area. The man in front of her looked like fresh, succulent meat, laid out before her.
The man clenched his fists. Courage? Did he really lack the courage to face it? Clifford couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh and yelled toward the departing vehicle.
"I'm an architect!"
"I know I'm useless to you now!"
"I know that in this damn apocalypse, you need strength to survive!"
"But you promised, didn't you?"
"As long as I can make it to LJ City College alive, you're willing to let me follow you!"
The man finished speaking and turned to look at the crazed, roaring zombies. He suppressed his fear and picked up a fallen iron rod.
"Come on!"
"You beasts!"
The vehicle suddenly screeched to a halt, leaving Clark bewildered inside. An architect? Clifford... No wonder he found the name so familiar; he had thought it was because the man had called his name earlier.
"Go back."
"Arnold, get out and bring him over."
Clark raised an eyebrow and unexpectedly ordered Arnold to get out of the car and bring the man over. It was quite bizarre. He hadn't expected the timid man behind him to possibly be the chief architect of "Hope City," one of the A-grade safe zones in the HX combat zone from his previous life. Strangely, he remembered this architect appearing on the chat channel. Back then, he had seemed generous, confident, and completely different from his current timid and fearful appearance.
In the doomsday game, architects were not particularly useful. However, a player whose skill was architect (profession) was an entirely different story. Just like a blacksmith in the real world, if their skill level was high enough, they could turn their skill into a profession, enhancing the attributes of weapons during crafting.
This was also the capital that allowed most non-combat players from the previous world to join a safe zone, their survival capital. Clark's gaze shifted to the man in Arnold's grip. A player like this, he would certainly want to recruit into his ranks. However, there was one condition: he had to prove himself.