The streets were a mess of overturned vehicles, abandoned bags, and littered bodies. The air smelled of burning rubber, oil, and something... darker. The infected were everywhere—twisted, grotesque things that staggered, shrieked, and tore into anyone unlucky enough to be caught.
Tilus's stomach churned as he made his way through the fractured city, weaving between shattered glass, overturned bikes, and abandoned motorbikes that still blinked weakly with dying indicator lights. Sirens wailed in the distance, but they weren't the kind that promised help—just echoes, wailing like ghosts with nowhere left to go.
His legs moved, but his mind screamed.
Why am I out here?
Every instinct in his body howled at him to turn back. His feet dragged with every step, like they were trying to anchor him to safety. To comfort. To the illusion that none of this was his problem.
You don't have to do this. You can still turn around.
But he didn't. He kept moving forward, breath shallow, each inhale tasting of ash, exhaust, and something metallic that clung to his tongue like fear.
Glass crunched underfoot, too loud. He stopped, back pressed to the wall of a narrow alley as two shadows stumbled into view from behind a battered sedan. The infected moved erratically, arms twitching as if pulled by strings, their faces slack but hungry. Tilus ducked low, pressing into a crevice between a dumpster and a brick wall, holding his breath so tightly his vision flickered at the edges.
The two infected twitched, sniffed the air. One let out a rattling moan. The other paused—head cocking in his direction—and for one agonizing second, Tilus thought it had seen him.
A car alarm blared down the street.
They snapped toward the sound instantly and bolted.
Tilus didn't move for ten whole seconds. Then twenty. Then thirty. Only when his legs started to cramp did he finally uncurl from his hiding spot, his body trembling with the adrenaline he pretended not to feel.
He was barely holding it together.
The streets were worse than he'd imagined. Lights flickered on and off in some buildings like the city was trying to blink itself awake. Smoke curled from somewhere near the central market. Tilus spotted a fire burning inside a clothing store, mannequins melting like they were part of some surreal art installation. A man screamed on a nearby rooftop—then went silent.
He didn't look.
He couldn't.
Instead, he pressed on toward the bookstore, the map in his mind aligning with every cracked sidewalk and broken street sign. When he finally turned the corner, the breath in his lungs froze.
A mass of infected, at least two dozen, swarmed in front of the building like a tidal wave of bodies. They moved in chaotic waves—some pounding on windows, others clawing at the walls, and a few locked in some feral, twitching fight with each other.
It was like watching a nightmare loop on repeat, something primal and wrong, like the city itself had been possessed.
Tilus stood at the edge of the street, back against the wall, watching the swarm in silence. His chest tightened.
What would it have cost him to stay safe? Nothing. But it had cost him everything to get to this moment, to run straight into the fire with no guarantee of making it out alive.
The infected were closing in fast. Leon and William were surrounded. Tilus could see them—cornered, exhausted, their backs pressed against the shelves, weapons in hand but faltering with each wave of monsters.
His heart thudded painfully in his chest. He wasn't thinking. He was acting. He lunged forward.
His mind buzzed,
He grabbed a broken cart, a makeshift weapon—anything he could use. His hands worked mechanically, binding the cart to a lamppost, securing a heavy chain to create a swinging trap. He swung the metal pipe with precise timing, sending it crashing into the group of infected. They staggered, lost balance, and fell.
It cleared the path, for a moment. A brief window of escape.
He bolted into the bookstore, barely aware of his own movements.
William shot him a look of disbelief, then relief.
"Knew you'd come around," William said, a grin on his face, though his voice trembled with the tension of the moment.
"What took you so long?" Leon spat, his breathing heavy and labored. Blood dripped from his temple, and his eyes were wild with adrenaline. His voice rasped from exhaustion, but there was a flicker of humor in it.
"Arghh, I should've let you two idiots die, now we're in deep trouble." Tilus swung the pipe again, knocking another infected away, his frustration boiling over. The bookstore was filled with more of them now, their growls and the sound of their grotesque steps filling the air. But they had a fighting chance now. For the moment, at least.
"But you came anyway—that's what makes you the third idiot!" Leon chuckled, his words slightly slurred by the blood in his mouth.
"Argh, shut up," Tilus muttered, his grip tightening on the pipe.
His objective was simple: survive. He didn't have time for sentimentality. Not in a place like this, with death creeping around every corner. He was at a bookstore now, surrounded by bookshelves stacked high with dusty volumes, but it was no longer a haven—it was a trap.
He glanced around quickly, taking in the cramped aisles, the shelves crammed with everything from fiction to non-fiction, the faint smell of paper and mildew filling the air. It could be their escape route... if they could manage it.
"We can't fight them all head-on," Tilus said through gritted teeth, pushing the frustration down. "I'm not dying here today. We need a way out."
Leon and William looked to him, bloodied but alive, waiting for something—anything—that could give them hope.
Tilus' mind raced. Books. Bookshelves.
"I'll draw them away," Tilus said, the plan forming in his mind. "While I do, you two push the shelves onto them. We create a barrier, buy us some time to slip out. They won't be able to get to us immediately."
William nodded, his face grim, but trust in his eyes. Leon, on the other hand, looked ready to argue, but Tilus cut him off.
"We don't have time for second opinions. This is the only way."
Tilus took a deep breath, then raised the metal pipe above his head. It felt lighter in his hands now, like a tool, not a weapon. He stepped toward the infected that had begun to spill into the bookstore, using his body to draw them in, swinging the pipe and keeping them distracted. Every strike was calculated, just enough to keep them coming closer but not enough to leave him exposed.
"NOW!" Tilus shouted.
William and Leon moved fast. They pushed heavy bookshelves in unison, tipping them toward the infected. The crash of wood against the ground sent a shockwave through the room, and the infected momentarily froze. But there were too many of them, and they were still coming.
Tilus didn't hesitate. He sprinted toward the exit, motioning for William and Leon to follow. Bookshelves toppled behind them like dominoes, a makeshift barricade that would hopefully slow the infected enough for them to escape.
The door was just ahead. He could see it now, a sliver of light through the chaos. They were so close.
With a final burst of energy, Tilus reached the door, yanking it open. William and Leon were right behind him. The fresh air hit their faces as they stumbled into the street, the infected trapped inside the bookstore for now.
They didn't stop running.
They didn't need to. They'd made it out.
[Sub Stage: Rescue your friends]
[Objective: Rescue Leon and William completed]
[Completion: 50%]
[Reward: 200 Coins]
Leon's voice cut through the uneasy silence. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
Tilus glanced up, eyes narrowing. "Yeah... but there's nothing we can do about it."
Leon scoffed. "What you really mean is — this is what I think it is, right? A System? Damn. I once wished for something like this... if only I hadn't nearly died to those zombies."
"Infected," Tilus corrected. "At least that's what the puppet said. These things move way faster than normal zombies. Even if they look the same."
Leon's brow furrowed. "So, what now?"
William, standing ahead, waved them forward without missing a beat. "We're picking up Jasmine. She's nearby."
Leon shot a sharp glance at Tilus. "Seriously?"
Tilus shake his head as if telling Leon he had to go along with it
[Objective: RESCUE JASMINE]
(Distance: 1.5 km]