Charvet, exhausted and drenched in sweat, collapsed to the floor, his body still crackling with the remnants of Thunder Flash. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles aching from the brutal fight. The room felt like it was spinning, but he forced himself to remain still, his eyes closed for a moment of respite.
A familiar ding echoed in the back of his mind—the system's notification. He had ignored it in the heat of battle, but now, with the danger behind him, Charvet summoned the system interface with a thought. His expression remained impassive as the blue holographic screen appeared before him.
The notification confirmed what he had already suspected: he had gained experience from the kills, not just from the mutated creatures, but from the players as well. Charvet didn't flinch. Survival meant eliminating threats, regardless of their form, and that was all there was to it.
He glanced at his status screen. His level had risen to 18. He could feel the faint surge of power, though it wasn't much. Without hesitation, he allocated the single stat point into Intelligence. The choice was clear—during his fight with the rat-man, his MP had been drained to the brink, limiting his ability to rely on his skills. Increasing his Intelligence would boost his MP, making sure he could fight longer and with more control in the next battle.
As he continued scanning his stats, a second notification caught his eye—his passive skill, Instinct, had leveled up to 2. He hadn't even noticed it during the fight, but the increase was no surprise. His body had reacted faster than his mind at times, warning him of incoming attacks, making him dodge and counter with unnatural precision. Now, with Instinct at level 2, it would be even sharper, his reflexes even quicker, allowing him to anticipate threats before they even came into his line of sight.
Charvet's expression remained as cold as ever, unaffected by the gains. His body was tired, but his thoughts were already turning toward what came next. This fight was over, but the war was just beginning. With each battle, he would grow stronger. He would have to. There was no other choice.
The sound of footsteps reached his ears, and he looked up to see Janry and Joseph entering the room, their faces grim. They stopped short at the sight of the carnage—charred flesh, shredded limbs, and the lifeless corpse of the rat-man.
"How brutal..." Janry murmured, his voice laced with disbelief. Even he, who had witnessed his fair share of violence, couldn't help but feel the weight of the brutality in Charvet's attack.
Joseph's expression remained cold, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes. "No mercy... but we needed that." His voice was low, a mix of respect and something darker, as though the massacre was justified in the end.
Charvet didn't answer, too exhausted to speak. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes again, letting the exhaustion take over.
Janry and Joseph exchanged a look, understanding that Charvet needed a moment. They moved past him, turning their attention to the two trembling players huddled in the corner of the room. The pair had been too terrified to flee, frozen in fear at the aftermath of the brutal fight.
Janry approached them first, his usual calm demeanor now laced with an edge. "We'll make this quick. Where's your leader? Who else is here?" he asked, his voice clipped and direct.
The two players barely dared to look up, their eyes wide with fear. They had no weapons and were completely at the mercy of Charvet and his group. After a long moment of silence, one of them shakily spoke.
The first player swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he spoke. 'That... that rat-man was our leader,' he said,
Janry and Joseph exchanged a glance before turning their attention back to the two players. Joseph's tone was icy as he spoke, 'Tell us why you ended up following that... thing. What happened?'
The two players exchanged nervous glances, their voices trembling as they spoke. "Before the apocalypse... we were a group of friends. Nonoy, the rat-man, he was one of us. We all stuck together when the outbreak started, trying to survive. At first, things were rough. We were stuck in this building, just like everyone else, trying to make it out."
The other player, his voice low and strained, continued, "We were lucky. Nonoy figured out how to level up and use the system. He was leading us, training us to fight zombies. We leveled up, became stronger. We scavenged supplies, helped survivors... things were looking better. We thought we were making progress."
"But then, a week ago... a guy named Ned showed up," the first player spoke again, his hands shaking. "He offered Nonoy something—said it was a way to gain even more power, faster. Nonoy took the offer. He changed. He started treating us like tools, making us do things... things we didn't want to do. Those who opposed him were eaten by him.
Janry smirked, shaking his head. "So, you still followed him—even after everything he did? Pathetic
The second player's voice cracked. 'We didn't know what to do. Even though we knew what we were doing was wrong, we still followed him because we were afraid of him.
The first player lowered his head, ashamed. "We were scared. He got so much stronger, so quickly. We didn't know how to fight him... or even if we could."
Joseph exhaled slowly, his gaze cold and calculating. "You chose to follow him. You made your decisions. And now, you'll deal with the consequences."
The two players dropped to their knees, desperation etched on their faces. "Please! We had no choice!" one of them pleaded. "We didn't want to do any of it—we were just trying to survive!"
Charvet's eyes narrowed, his voice cold. "That Ned guy you're talking about—what does he look like?"
One of the players swallowed hard before answering, "He... he looked like a typical nerd. Average face, nothing special. But he always wore this long cloak, kind of like what doctors wear, except it was dark and tattered."
The other player quickly added, "Yeah, and he always had this creepy smile, like he was looking down on everyone."
Charvet's face remained expressionless, his eyes devoid of emotion. His voice was calm, yet it carried a chilling edge.
"That bastard… That's the one who escaped from me," he said, his tone cold.
Charvet's gaze sharpened as he pressed on, his voice unwavering. "Do you know where Ned went?"
The two players exchanged a nervous glance, shaking their heads.
"No... after he turned Nonoy into that... abomination, he disappeared," one of them answered, their voice trembling.
"Useless," Charvet muttered, his voice cold and indifferent. Without another word, he turned away, dismissing them as if they were nothing more than an annoyance.
The two players, realizing their fate, desperately began to beg, their voices shaking with fear. "Please! We didn't—"
But Janry and Joseph were already moving. In a smooth, practiced motion, they each drew a blade, their movements quick and decisive. The two players didn't have time to say another word before their throats were slit, their pleas silenced as they collapsed, blood pooling around them. Janry and Joseph wiped the blood from their knives with casual precision, unfazed by the brutal act.
As Charvet walked down the stairs, he spoke to Janry over his shoulder
"Go back to the university. Bring more vehicles and people to help get these women to safety."
Janry nodded, quickly heading for the exit as Charvet and Joseph stayed behind to guard the women. Three hours later, Janry returned with more vehicles and a few people to help. They carefully helped the women into the vehicles before making their way back to the university.
By the time they arrived back at the university, it was already dawn. Charvet, Joseph, and the rescued women were brought straight to the infirmary. Joanne remained unconscious, still recovering from the earlier events. When Lyka saw Charvet, alive and with some women rescued, she was stunned. She couldn't believe he had managed to defeat so many strong players, but she didn't press him for details. Instead, she let Charvet rest and heal first, knowing he needed it.
Early the next morning, Joanne slowly opened her eyes, disoriented and confused. She couldn't believe she was still alive. The chaos of the previous day flooded her mind, but it felt like a distant nightmare. She was back in the university, lying in the familiar sterile environment of the infirmary. The pain in her body was a reminder of how close she had come to death.
She glanced around and spotted Lyka sitting quietly by her side, her focus on a book. Joanne blinked a few times, trying to gather her thoughts before speaking.
"Lyka..." Joanne's voice was weak, but it carried the weight of many questions. "What happened? How did we survive? What about the others from the raid team?"
Lyka put down her book and looked at her with a calm expression, though her eyes betrayed the exhaustion she had endured. She let out a slow breath and began to recount everything.
Joanne's heart sank as she processed the grim reality. She wanted to ask more, but the truth settled heavily in her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself
Her attention was drawn to the room around her. The infirmary was cramped with women—some unconscious, some awake but clearly battered. The sight of so many women, all with their own injuries, sparked a new wave of concern in Joanne.
She turned to Lyka again, her voice filled with confusion and concern. "Lyka... who are all these women? What happened to them?"
Lyka's face tightened with a mix of sadness and anger as she looked at the women around them, her gaze heavy with emotion. She spoke "They were slaves," she said, her voice tight.
"Nonoy, the rat-man, he kept them captive, using them for his own sick purposes. Charvet killed those responsible and brought them here to be healed. They're the ones who survived. The rest... they didn't."
Joanne's breath caught in her throat as she looked at the women, now realizing the depth of the horrors they had endured.