Boom!
The dull cracking sound didn't elicit the slightest change in Novak's expression. The blood-red tentacles and creeping tendrils slowly merged into his body.
[Devour low-level virus-infected body: Gain 0.5 Blacklight Virus-exclusive evolution points! Access to the original memories stored in the virus gene pool at any time.]
Novak had no interest in the memories of these insignificant zombies. His gaze remained distant, cold, and detached.
What ability did Novak most urgently want to evolve right now?
It wasn't the Blacklight Virus's powers of scaling walls or superhuman leaps—those weren't as pressing. No, there was only one thing on his mind: Spirit Speed.
In a post-apocalyptic world where electromagnetic interference rendered vehicles useless, traveling long distances had become a massive headache. While Novak's Agility stat was already over 70, allowing him to run faster than a car at full sprint, and his powerful Constitution gave him the stamina to maintain this pace for long stretches, there was still something unsettling about running wild down open roads.
At the moment, traveling from the villa area to De M-anila City was manageable, but what if he needed to go farther?
Thankfully, De M-anila City was finally within sight.
The once-bustling streets now lay eerily quiet. Vehicles were crashed into one another, some still burning from collisions. What was once a prosperous urban area had turned into a wasteland overnight.
On both sides of the road, zombies lumbered with dark red, dried blood staining their skin, their mouths occasionally opening in low growls. Their movements were sluggish, their minds seemingly lost to the hunger for blood and flesh.
But something caught their attention.
Their twitching noses picked up on a presence, and the dull glaze over their eyes was replaced by an intense, primal excitement. They turned their heads in unison towards a figure clad in black, standing a short distance away.
Without hesitation, the horde of zombies began charging towards the figure.
"Roar!"
The deafening roar from the zombies reverberated down the street, awakening those that had been slumbering. Every undead creature within earshot came to life, drawn to their prey.
But who was the hunter, and who was the hunted?
The figure in black didn't flinch. With calm precision, Novak identified his direction, casting an indifferent glance at the approaching horde. There was no panic, no urgency.
High above, behind the windows of the surrounding buildings, some evolutionaries stood trembling. They dared not step outside to face the zombies, let alone intervene. They watched from their safe perches, paralyzed with fear, waiting for death to knock on their doors.
Yet, the sudden appearance of this figure on the street caught everyone off guard.
Is this guy insane?! they thought.
How many zombies were there on this street? No one could say for sure, but it was clear that anyone foolish enough to reveal themselves during daylight would be devoured in an instant.
There was no mercy for the living.
And yet, here was this person, walking openly among the dead.
Then, something happened that left every evolutionary in the buildings stunned.
The figure didn't seem to care at all about the charging zombies. He stood motionless for a moment, then, with chilling precision, he sprang into action.
Within less than ten seconds, the dozen zombies surrounding him had exploded into bloody mist.
Dark red tendrils emerged from Novak's body, creeping across the street, devouring the fallen zombies until nothing remained but writhing tendrils of blood, which then disappeared into his body.
As the figure turned and quickly disappeared down the street, the evolutionaries watching from above let out a collective sigh of relief.
They were terrified—uneasy about the state of the world. Not only were zombies ravaging the streets, but there were also terrifying creatures like this one roaming around. Monsters that could only exist in nightmares.
But what they saw wasn't a simple monster. Novak, in one indifferent glance, had confirmed their deepest fears: They were insignificant.
---
In his past life, even with only an E-level talent, Novak had fought his way out of the dormitories of De M-anila University on day one, battling the hordes of zombies.
Novak believed that among these trembling evolutionaries, there were likely individuals with C-level, B-level, or even A-level talents. High-level talents offered a huge advantage in the early days, when zombies were still comparable to regular humans in strength.
However, if these people couldn't accept the reality of the apocalypse and step outside to face it, then their fates were already sealed. At best, they would become mere burdens at the survivor bases. At worst, they would die quietly in their rooms.
In the later stages, when cities devolved into untamed wilderness and higher-level zombies, mutated creatures, and wild beasts emerged, the danger would only grow.
Strength wasn't just about talent levels. It was about courage and resolve.
As these thoughts crossed his mind, Novak glanced at chat group No. 001. Discussions had resumed—topics about using talents, the abilities of zombies, and assessing one's own strength.
Yet Ian, who had been so active the night before, hadn't said a word.
Not that Novak cared. As he had made clear before, he wasn't anyone's babysitter. Ian's profile icon still showed up in the chat, which meant the guy wasn't dead.
Perhaps Ian was facing the most critical turning point in his life. Some might call it the "maturing process." Novak remained indifferent.
He had other concerns. Looking ahead, he frowned at the empty street.
The De M-anila Ocean Blue wasn't far from the university campus—just two streets away. Yet something felt off. The number of zombies in the area was too small.
Originally, Novak believed everything was progressing smoothly. He thought it would be easy to collect enough evolution points exclusive to the Blacklight Virus, allowing him to unlock minor abilities, such as the power to leap over walls.
But now, after devouring only a dozen or so zombies, he found himself still short of the required points.
Could someone in De M-anila have already undergone significant evolution? Had they assembled a team of powerful evolutionaries and swept through the area in just a day, leaving little behind? Suspicious but unwilling to waste time, Novak set his sights on the sprawling De M-anila University campus and headed there without hesitation.
In his previous life, he had glimpsed something incredible on the university grounds. On the first day of the apocalypse, he saw a projection of that being appear at the Ateneo de M-anila University Campus Ministry. Although it was only a fleeting moment from the dormitory rooftop, Novak was sure of what he saw. Later, he learned just how powerful that entity was and the unimaginable benefits it bestowed upon those fortunate enough to encounter it in the early days.
Now, as Novak crossed the campus, he saw a scene that perfectly matched his understanding of the apocalypse. The streets, squares, sports fields, and dormitory buildings were teeming with figures—well-dressed but drenched in blood, their skin turned a sickly purple, their bloodshot eyes scanning the world with vacant, ravenous hunger.
The sight of fresh flesh and blood in their midst stirred these zombies into a frenzy. They surged forward with terrifying speed and unbridled enthusiasm.
Yet Novak, though once interested in these zombies, found himself indifferent now. Harvesting them could be done anytime. Missing the chance to meet that being, however, would be a much greater loss. The precious items it brought during the apocalypse's early stages were far too rare, and if he missed this opportunity, he might never encounter it again in this lifetime.
Swish! Swoosh!
Sharp claws, grown from Novak's own hands, tore through the air. His speed was unmatched, and any zombie that rushed at him was instantly sliced apart by his razor-sharp claws. The dark red tendrils of the Blacklight Virus crept from his body, immediately absorbing the fallen zombies.
Yet, Novak frowned. Something was off.
He had moved at incredible speed, arriving at the dormitory in record time. But despite his best efforts, the figure from his memory was nowhere to be found.
High above, in the upper floors of the dormitories, surviving students looked down at Novak in awe. Though his aura had changed, many still recognized him as one of their own—a fellow student of De M-anila University.
"Novak! Help! Novak!" someone shouted from above. The dormitory, surrounded by zombies, had become a death trap, and with the arrival of such a powerful figure, their first instinct was to cry out for help.
But Novak merely cast a quick glance at them before turning away. In fact, there was a hint of mockery in his eyes.
As he had said before, zombies are most sensitive to sound and smell. If the students had simply stayed quiet and locked their doors, the zombies would have eventually lost interest and wandered off. But shouting like this?
Novak could only think of two words: Courting death.
Without another look, he sped off, his movement swift and effortless. The scattered zombies were no match for him and couldn't even get close.
He quickly searched key locations: the square—nothing. The library—nothing. Even the dormitories revealed no trace of the figure he sought.
How is this possible?
Novak's expression grew darker. Sure, there could be a time difference of a few minutes... but this unlucky? He couldn't believe it.
Standing in the middle of the square, Novak exhaled slowly, surveying the tide of zombies that had begun to surround him.
A blood-red killing intent flashed in his eyes.
He might not have found the being he sought, but since he was here, he would make sure this trip wasn't a waste. A good harvest was still on the table. After all, if he left without gaining any power, it would truly be a loss.
In the midst of the endless horde of zombies, Novak unleashed a bloody dance. With his Blacklight Virus fully awakened, dealing with these low-level zombies was nothing short of a massacre.
But it wasn't a matter of if he would win—it was how fast. The virus's limitations on speed and the devouring process slowed his killing spree. Devouring a zombie took five or six seconds, during which time the next kill couldn't be absorbed immediately. The efficiency of harvesting evolution points was drastically reduced.
To make the most of his abilities, Novak needed the zombies to be infected with the live virus when they died. Only then would he achieve the perfect genetic evolution he sought.
Kill. Kill.
The blood-red haze in Novak's eyes deepened.
De M-anila University had nearly 60,000 students. Now, many of those students had been transformed into zombies. Though it was impossible for all of them to have turned, the sheer number of zombies outside the dormitories, teaching buildings, and across the square was staggering.
As Novak lost himself in the slaughter, it wasn't the Blacklight Virus controlling him—it was the flood of dopamine and adrenaline coursing through his body. His ability to think logically was rapidly declining.
He didn't care. All he knew was that with every strike, the system prompted him with the same notifications:
[Devour low-level virus-infected body. Gain 0.5 Blacklight Virus-exclusive evolution points! Original memory stored in virus gene pool accessible at any time!]
[Devour low-level virus-infected body. Gain 0.5 Blacklight Virus-exclusive evolution points! Original memory stored in virus gene pool accessible at any time!]
[Devour incomplete low-level virus-infected body. Gain 0.1 Blacklight Virus-exclusive evolution points!]
The Blacklight Virus surged through his body. Dark red tendrils writhed around him like living armor, encasing him in what seemed like a red-black shell. He looked like a Scarlet Warrior, standing against the endless tide of the undead.
Sensing the disturbance, more zombies began pouring toward him, drawn by the carnage.
But just then, a distinct sound cut through the chaos—a special tone that seemed to echo like a bell carried on the wind.
At the same time, a voice—calm and filled with a strange authority—broke Novak's blood-crazed trance:
"Interesting little guy. My footsteps are willing to stop for you."
The scarlet in Novak's eyes vanished instantly. He whipped around, his gaze locking onto a figure seated on a bench in the blank square.
It was low to the ground, with a large head and spindly limbs— like a goblin straight out of myth.
But this was no myth. It was real.
Before him sat Zogwort, president of the Goblin Chamber of Commerce in the heavens and across the multiverse—a goblin, and the god of trade in the boundless universe!