"Was he truly a companion?"
Miles stood stunned, gazing at Isaac, who stood resolutely before him.
The elder's figure was as straight as an ancient pine, unwavering and indomitable.
Since the advent of the apocalypse, Miles had lived through two lifetimes shrouded in darkness and cold-blooded cruelty. Long ago, he had forgotten what companionship or justice even meant.
Yet Isaac had the chance to seize power and stand above him, but he let it pass.
Whether it was for loyalty or principles, a strange warmth stirred within Miles' heart—an unfamiliar feeling in this desolate world.
"Miles, you can't kill me! Without me, you'll never get that list!"
Alexande's voice trembled with desperation as he staggered out from behind his cover.
There was no point in hiding anymore. With a monster like Isaac on Miles' side, no amount of hiding could save him.
"Hand over the list, and I'll let you live," Miles said, his tone calm as he stared at Alexande, a hint of pity flashing in his eyes.
Once a billionaire tycoon, Alexande now looked more like a beggar, stripped of all dignity.
The apocalypse could elevate the ordinary into the extraordinary, just as it could reduce the mighty to mere shadows of their former selves.
"I can give it to you, but I'll need that snow crawler and a stockpile of supplies," Alexande demanded, his eyes glued to the vehicle as if it were his lifeline.
As long as he could drive off in that crawler, Miles would never catch him.
"Fine."
Without hesitation, Miles agreed.
He waved a hand nonchalantly, and a large pile of food and supplies appeared atop the snow crawler.
"You can summon objects out of thin air… You truly are an advanced-level ability user!"
Alexande's fear momentarily gave way to greed as he stared at Miles with unmasked avarice.
"Enough. Give me the list, and you're free to leave," Miles said impatiently, extending his hand.
"I'll give it to you," Alexande said, but then hesitated, his tone turning sly. "On second thought, I've changed my mind. I—"
Bang!
A gunshot rang out, cutting Alexande off mid-sentence. A bullet hole bloomed on his forehead, his body collapsing lifelessly to the ground.
Even in death, his face was frozen in an expression of greedy ambition.
"Fool," Miles muttered coldly, lowering his gun.
Isaac stared at Miles, his expression conflicted. "You didn't want the list after all?"
"Oh, I wanted it," Miles replied, his tone indifferent. "But I despise being threatened even more."
Whether the list was genuine or not, it didn't matter. Even if it existed, Miles wasn't ready to act on it. His abilities were still too weak.
If he encountered an offensive-type ability user, he wouldn't stand a chance.
With such vulnerabilities, was the list even worth having?
"You planned to kill him all along," Isaac said after a moment of silence. His expression shifted as the realization hit him. "Alexande's threat forced your hand, so you baited him with his own greed, intending to eliminate the danger entirely."
Miles smirked. "Isaac, being too clever is a double-edged sword. It might keep you awake at night."
Back at the villa, Miles headed straight for the basement, his face dark with determination.
"You—"
Lisa nearly dropped what she was holding when she saw the gun in his hand.
Miles clenched his jaw. "Damn it! My shooting is pathetic. I need to practice."
If it weren't for Isaac, he might've lost his life to Alexande. He had been barely ten meters away, yet he'd only managed to hit two out of four targets.
With such a dismal skillset, how could he hope to survive in the apocalypse?
From his spatial storage, Miles pulled out a few shooting targets, donned protective gear, and began his training.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three shots. Two hit the outer ring.
Lisa tried to stifle her laughter but failed, her giggles filling the room.
Miles' face flushed slightly. "The target must be crooked," he muttered defensively.
Lisa, struggling to contain herself, handed him a drink with mock solemnity. "Of course, Master. The target must be at fault."
After an entire afternoon of training, Miles stared at the riddled target paper, lost in thought.
At this rate, he wasn't making progress fast enough.
Marksmen were made with bullets, but his stock was limited—barely a few hundred rounds left. If he exhausted his supply, he'd be even more vulnerable when venturing outside.
Just then, his communicator buzzed. Ryan's voice crackled with excitement.
"Miles, we just captured a super zombie in Zone B. Guess who it is!"
Miles didn't even have to think hard. "Damn it, it's Zeki, isn't it?"
"Bingo!"
That troublesome woman—banished over twenty days ago—had finally turned into a zombie.
"Bring her here."
"On it. We're en route."
Miles didn't care how Zeki had turned. All he cared about was harnessing her energy to enhance his own.
The power he had gained from Andrew had significantly boosted his abilities. If Zeki's energy could propel him further, it would be a major breakthrough.
Not long after, Ryan arrived with the snow crawler, towing a disheveled, feral Zeki behind it.
Her mutated form was similar to Andrew's, but her physical enhancements were striking, almost unnervingly so.
Miles couldn't help but smirk at the thought. "I played this game for a year and never saw a 'Big-Boss Zombie' like this."
Even in death, she was a spectacle.
Ryan looked visibly shaken. "This one's strength is terrifying. If it weren't for Isaac stepping in, I might've been bitten."
Miles noticed Ryan sneaking glances at Zeki's… figure.
"Ryan, you interested in one last hurrah?" Miles teased.
"Hell no!" Ryan quickly waved him off, his face flushing red. "Not a chance! But… you have to admit, she's got a killer figure."
Miles chuckled. "Don't tell me you've forgotten your rendezvous with her back in the day?"
Ryan stammered, his face a deeper shade of crimson. "That was ages ago… Just absorb the energy already, will you?"
With the jokes set aside, Miles focused on Zeki. His gaze swept over her, and the energy transfer began.
Boom!
As the process concluded, a powerful resonance echoed in Miles' mind.
The white fog in his mental space dissipated entirely, revealing a vast, crystalline void.
The clarity was breathtaking—it felt as though he were floating in the infinite expanse of the cosmos. He could locate any item within his space with a mere thought.
But what intrigued him more was his newfound ability.
He glanced at a nearby vase, and it began to float.
With a single thought, he sent it soaring through the air before it crashed to the floor with a satisfying thud.
This was the true power of mental manipulation.
Miles' hands trembled with exhilaration.
He focused next on a heavy desk. It too rose, hovered momentarily, and then shot forward, slamming into the ground with immense force.
At long last, his strength was evolving.