The three continued their discussion, exchanging stories of survival. They shared their struggles, the battles they fought, and the tricks they used to stay alive in this chaotic new world. Hours passed without them realizing, their reunion filled with laughter, nostalgia, and planning for the future.
Then, a sudden commotion erupted outside.
Charvet's eyes narrowed as he stood up. Janry and Joseph followed, their expressions turning serious. They stepped out of the room and into the hallway, where students were rushing toward the main entrance.
"The raid team is back!" someone shouted.
Charvet, Janry, and Joseph made their way through the growing crowd. When they reached the courtyard, the sight before them was grim.
Only ten players remained out of the thirty who had set out in the morning. Their clothes were torn, their bodies covered in wounds and dried blood. Some supported each other just to stand.
Among them were Lyka, the leader of Shadow Girls, and Joanne. But Joanne was unconscious, being carried on a makeshift stretcher toward the infirmary.
Charvet, Janry, and Joseph followed the injured group into the infirmary. The room was filled with tension—pained groans from the wounded echoed through the space, while medics and survivors moved frantically to tend to them. The sharp scent of antiseptic mixed with the metallic tang of blood, making the atmosphere even heavier.
Joanne was carefully placed on a bed, her face pale, her body covered in bruises and cuts. Her breathing was shallow, and for the first time, Charvet felt a rare flicker of unease. She wasn't just anyone—she was the first person he had felt comfortable with after the world fell apart. Seeing her like this sent a cold weight settling in his chest.
Nearby, Lyka stood tense, exhaustion evident in her posture, yet her fists remained clenched, knuckles white.
'What happened?' Charvet asked, his voice calm, but beneath it, a storm brewed.
Lyka exhaled sharply, shifting her gaze to the ground as if piecing together the right words. "It was supposed to be a simple run. The hotel was only six stories high—we thought we could clear it. We'd done similar raids before.
She clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. "But the moment we entered, we knew something was wrong. The air felt... heavy, like we were being watched. At first, we only saw the usual zombies—slow, mindless. But then, as we climbed higher, they changed. Their movements became erratic, unnatural. And then we heard the clicking."
Lyka shuddered, her green eyes dark with remembrance. "Mutant rats, the size of dogs. They swarmed us the moment we stepped onto the second floor. They were fast, too fast. Clawed through our defenses like paper. We lost two people before we could even react. We tried to push forward, thinking we could still salvage the mission, but the fourth floor…" She swallowed hard. "That was where everything fell apart."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The zombies there were different. Not just stronger—smarter. They coordinated. One of them, a hulking brute covered in blackened veins, crashed through our formation, ripping apart three of our people in seconds. Another—some kind of mutated screamer—let out this... this sound." She shivered. "It was like knives piercing through our skulls. Half of us dropped to our knees, clutching our heads. That's when they overwhelmed us."
Lyka dragged a hand down her face. "By the time we fought our way back down, we had already lost six people. Six damn good people." Her voice wavered, but she quickly hardened it. "We barely made it out alive. If we had stayed a second longer, none of us would have returned."
Janry and Joseph exchanged a glance but stayed quiet, letting her continue.
Lyka's voice turned bitter. "We decided to retreat, but the moment we stepped outside, they were waiting—fifty of them, armed and ready. Their leader gave one order: 'Take the girls. Kill the rest.'"
Her hands trembled before she clenched them into fists. 'We fought back, but they had the numbers and the gear. Dario's skull was crushed in an instant. Jace was gutted and left screaming. Renzo held them off, took three down before a bullet ripped through his throat."
She exhaled sharply. "We barely broke through, but ten of us made it out. The rest… either dead or taken. And if I ever see those bastards again, I'll make sure they regret ever crossing us."
Charvet's jaw tightened as he looked down at Joanne. His emotions were a mix of fury and cold calculation. Someone had dared to target her.
Janry, ever the strategist, leaned back, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his arm. His eyes gleamed with cold calculation as he pieced the situation together. "Using a boss as bait to attract players, then ambushing them… and targeting women specifically?" His lips curled slightly—not in amusement, but in understanding. "This wasn't a random attack. It was planned, efficient. Which means they've done this before."
Charvet didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on Joanne's unconscious form, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he turned to Lyka.
"They'll pay for this." His voice was quiet, almost emotionless—but the sheer weight of those words carried an unmistakable promise of violence.
"Janry, find a car. We're going there. We're killing every last one of them." His voice was calm, almost too calm, but the weight behind his words sent a chill through those who heard him.
Janry nodded without hesitation and moved, but Lyka stepped forward, her green eyes filled with worry. "Wait! Charvet, this isn't just some random group of players—they're strong. We barely survived last time! They're organized, well-equipped. We need a plan—"
Before she could finish speaking, a sudden chill crawled up her spine.
Joseph had vanished from his spot.
A sharp, cold edge pressed against her throat, and her breath hitched. Joseph's voice, low and taunting, whispered right beside her ear. 'Don't you dare stand in the boss's way.'
His grin was visible from the corner of her eye, wicked and cold. His grip was firm, the knife pressing just enough to let her know he wasn't bluffing.
The room tensed. The air turned heavy.
Charvet stepped out, his gaze unreadable as he moved silently, his dark figure cutting through the light. Joseph released Lyka and followed close behind
Janry had already left the building, heading for the parking lot. He knew exactly what they needed—a heavily armored vehicle with a mounted machine gun. It was a rare find in these chaotic times. The vehicle had originally been meant to pick up a university student whose father had army connections. But Janry and Joseph had taken it for themselves, tricking the boy into giving it up. They'd convinced him he wouldn't survive alone, and he ended up serving them.
Janry smirked at the memory of the kid's pleading face. He wasn't the first to fall for their tricks.
Once inside, Janry started the engine. The powerful car hummed to life, its armor gleaming under the afternoon sun. The machine gun on top was ready for anything.
Charvet climbed into the front seat, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee as he stared ahead. Joseph took his position at the mounted machine gun, his usual grin returning as he gripped the handles.
Janry drove, keeping his eyes open for any danger as Charvet stayed alert. Their destination was the hotel, and they wouldn't stop until they had their revenge. Janry knew where to go, thanks to his spies.
"We're close," Janry said, his voice calm.
Charvet's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. They were about to make their move. No one would be spared.
Janry glanced at Charvet. "Straight in, or do we lure them out?"
Charvet's eyes darkened. "No need. We go in and wipe them out."
Janry smirked and pressed the gas, the vehicle surging forward.
As they neared the hotel, a battle came into view. From a distance, they spotted ten people fighting desperately as they fled. Behind them, a group of nearly a hundred men and women pursued, their attacks relentless and coordinated.
Janry's eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. "Looks like another group tried to take down the zombie boss but got ambushed instead," he muttered.
Joseph let out a low chuckle. "Poor bastards didn't see it coming."
Charvet remained silent, his gaze locked on the chaotic scene ahead. The survivors were barely holding on, their formation breaking as exhaustion set in. They wouldn't last much longer.
"Get us in range," Charvet ordered, his tone cold and firm.
Janry nodded and pressed the gas, the armored vehicle surging forward, ready to enter the fray.
As the armored vehicle closed in, Joseph didn't hesitate. He squeezed the trigger, unleashing a storm of bullets. The deafening roar of the machine gun filled the streets, cutting down enemies in an instant. Bodies were torn apart, blood splattering across the pavement. Those unlucky enough to be caught in the barrage were shredded, leaving behind only mangled remains.
Screams of pain echoed before fading into silence. The survivors who weren't hit immediately panicked, their will to fight shattering. Without hesitation, they turned and fled, disappearing into alleyways and side streets.
Before the dust even settled, Charvet was already on the move. He pushed the truck door open and stepped out, his eyes locked onto the retreating enemies. Without a word, he took off after them, his speed inhuman.
Janry quickly shut off the engine and followed, his dagger drawn, ready for the kill.
Joseph let out a low chuckle, hopping down from the vehicle. "Running? That won't save you."
The hunt had begun.