Kevin snapped awake at 3 a.m., Mallow’s growl yanking him up. His hand shot for his blade, no thinking needed. Third patrol shift was his now—after last night’s shitshow, the whole crew was wound tight, patrols running nonstop. Kevin’s turn to roll.

  They scoped Zone D, all quiet. The walker at the front gate kept smashing the steel, a damn broken record. Story vets were posted up, holding watch. Omnispace called it a safe night, so that shambler wasn’t crashing in anytime soon.

  Kevin and Mallow hit the barred back door. Melk and Deyl were camped there, eyeballing the walkers through the gaps. They clocked Kevin coming and tossed him a quick nod.

  “Kid, you fuckin’ nailed it today!” Melk said, rare as hell for him to gas Kevin up. “First, you stepped up for that useless cop with the right call. Then you mopped up his mess. Shit, seeing him like that, I damn near wanted to cap his sorry ass myself.”

  “Hold up, Melk, his wife’s gone!” Deyl barked. “Kevin, check this shit out.”

  Kevin leaned in, trailing Deyl’s finger to the spot where the door got bolted.

  “This where Rikk locked it down, right?” Kevin asked.

  “Yeah,” Deyl said. “We all saw it—clear as fuckin’ daylight. That door was shut tight—tight as hell! No slick Atlanta pickpocket could’ve cracked it, let alone some damn walker!”

  “But it got popped open,” Kevin said, brow creasing.

  “Hey, I caught your little powwow, and that short-haired chick’s full of shit!” Melk sneered, dripping sarcasm. “Dunno how you punks think you’re psychic, seeing the damn future, but if some jailbird pulled this, it’d be a sloppy-ass job—marks all over. Me and Deyl are the pros at sniffing that crap out, and we didn’t see jack.”

  Melk snorted hard and spat a fat loogie straight into the walker’s drooling trap through the bars.

  “So, you’re saying?” Mallow’s eyes popped wide.

  “It got busted open with a damn key!” Deyl snarled.

  “A spy?” Mallow blurted, then slapped a hand over his yap, scoping if anybody clocked it.

  “Alright, pipe down. Two ways this shakes out,” Melk growled, voice low and twitchy. “Either we’ve got a mole screwing us, or some outsider slipped in. Remember those SUV tracks Deyl pointed out? Tonight, we ate grenades and machine gun spray—walkers don’t fuckin’ play with that! This is an outside job, no question!”

  “I’m with you—outsiders were in on tonight’s hit,” Kevin said, tone cold as steel. “But how’d they pull it off? They’d have to sneak past a hundred of us guarding this joint, dodge the patrols, and unlock the back door. First, where’d they snag the key? Rikk’s the one who locked it—ain’t no way he’d pop it open and let walkers chew his wife. Second, how’d outsiders know our setup and patrol gaps like that? Two big-ass holes we gotta plug.”

  “Hey, what if it’s one of our own damn crew?” Mallow said, voice dripping with doubt. “Some insider could’ve sniffed out the key or fucked with the patrols.”

  “An insider?” Kevin echoed, brow creasing hard. “Could be, I reckon. But we’re all Worldhoppers here—stuck in the same shit. Yeah, we scrap sometimes, but we’re in it deep. If the team goes down or the Governor takes the pot, what’s the fuckin’ point of stabbing us in the back?”

  The more they chewed it over, the more the questions piled up like a damn mess.

  “Man, this ain’t some cop show—this is The Zombie World! How the hell did we land in this twisted-ass riddle?” Mallow groaned, dragging his fingers through his hair, pissed as shit.

  “Alright, who was on patrol that night?” Kevin asked, face dark as coal.

  “Let’s scope the rundown,” Deyl said, voice low and gritty, flipping through the patrol log. “First crew: Razor Hawk, four heads, 9 to 10 p.m. Second crew: Marissa, four more, 10 to 11 p.m. Third crew, 11 to 12, was Sally, Morimaru, Jungwoo, and you, Mallow.”

  “Hey, Mallow, anything off on your patrol?” Kevin asked, voice tight with worry.

  “Nah, don’t think so,” Mallow said, scratching his skull, face all twisted up. “I was hauling at the back, Sally was up front, and nothing weird stuck with me.”

  “And the locks were solid?” Kevin asked, eyes sharp, holding Mallow steady.

  “All good,” Mallow said, waving it off. “Those are some heavy-ass locks. Even with hydraulic cutters, you’re talking half an hour easy. Unless…”

  “Unless what?” Kevin pressed, tone edged with a spark.

  “Unless they had the damn key,” Mallow said with a half-grin. “But that’s pie in the sky.”

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  Kevin’s face darkened like hell, clawing his temples like a storm was brewing. “Alright, let’s keep it tight for now.”

  Kevin and Mallow clocked out at 5 a.m., sky just cracking light. Even that early, they figured they’d snag a couple hours of shut-eye.

  When Kevin first jumped into Omnispace, the heat and stress kept him wired all night. But now, he got how big rest was, snatching any shot to recharge. You can’t always kick back when you’re dying for it—last few nights proved that cold. If you don’t learn to chill mid-fight, even if you don’t bite it, you’ll burn out fast.

  At 7 a.m. sharp, dawn’s first rays sliced the dark, and a walker horde rolled in, kicking off the grim grind: slash walkers, take hits, crash, heal a scratch, then dive back in…

  …But a few familiar mugs didn’t show up on the battlefield…

  It wasn’t ‘til dawn that Kevin dragged his beat ass back to his cell, crashing out without a blink.

  Kevin rolled outta bed and found Rikk already barking orders in the hall. He hustled over to join the crew.

  Rikk, his face grim as hell, was jamming shells into his shotgun while barking at the crew.

  “We’re busting outta this hole and carving through. Glenor and Deyl scoped the joint yesterday and got the dirt. That hit after midnight wasn’t just walkers—humans were in it, slinging machine guns and grenades. I’ve got a plan to shove it back in their faces.

  Step 1: sweep the walkers in this dump, scour every corner for any scumbags hiding, and snag whatever gear we can scrape up. Keep it close.

  Step 2: hunt those bastards down and hit ‘em with everything we’ve got—wipe ‘em out for good!”

  Rikk’s mug was twisted with rage. No shock there—Lorrah, his whole damn drive, got smoked in the raid, and now he’s burning to settle the score. Cahl stood tight by his old man, fist clenched hard.

  The crew nodded along—Rikk’s play made sense. Clear the walker mess inside before rolling out.

  “Listen up,” Rikk said, voice barking orders. “Deyl, Mionne, Glenor, Magra, Aundra—you’re hunting down those punks who jumped us. Don’t let that shit slide again.” He locked eyes with Deyl, the hard-ass archer. “If it goes sideways, don’t play hero—just haul back here. We’ll have this dump cleared in a day or two.”

  “Rest of you,” Rikk went on, scoping the crew, “we’re locking this joint down. Hit Zones A and C today. Zone A might have survivors—track ‘em down and snag any gear you can.”

  The familiar voice of Omnispace echoed in every Worldhopper’s mind, precise and cold:

  “Day five has commenced. You have survived another trial. Your next objective awaits. Select your course:

  1. Join Deyl’s unit in their reconnaissance and pursuit operation.

  2. Accompany Rikk’s unit into Zone A to secure resources from remaining prisoners.

  3. Assist Melk’s unit in Zone C to neutralize concealed threats within the prison perimeter.”

  The newbies bunched up again, splitting into tight squads of three to five heads.

  The Razor Hawk crew threw in with Rikk’s team. Reasons were all over: some were tight with Sharn, others were itching for gear, and a couple wanted to sniff out that backup generator buzz in Zone A.

  Marissa ditched her usual play and rolled with Deyl’s scout-and-track squad instead of Rikk’s. That jump might mean she’s done with Rikk for good. Maybe she was playing her inside scoop to cash in with Deyl. Morimaru and Jungwoo, hyped by their idols Mionne and Glenor, tagged along on the tracking gig too.

  Only Kevin and Mallow picked Melk’s Zone C run. Kevin’s real angle was likely picking up tricks from the old dog Melk.

  With 339 team points in his pocket, Kevin could swap for three skills. As for the traitor, he figured the truth would bust out in a couple days.

  Kevin strapped on the gold-tier Walker Slayer (+20% damage to walkers), while Mallow rocked the silver-tier Walker Killer (+10%). With walkers mutated twice, every edge mattered. Without it, you’d need a half-dozen swings at their soft spots to drop one, and even a nick from those bastards could end you.

  “Listen up, rookies,” Melk barked, voice oozing sarcasm. “You might be hot shit at killing walkers, but they’re damn pros at chewing you up! Our only leg up is we’ve got brains and play tight. Scrap without a plan, and you’ll figure out fast how ugly it gets out here!” Melk shot a look at T-Bone. “Ain’t that right, food coma?”

  T-Bone’s face went red, glaring hard. “Can you shut the hell up? We need teamwork, man—teamwork!”

  Melk smirked, zipped it, and waved the crew to gear up.

  Meanwhile, Kevin locked in. He dropped 100 survival points to scope all the team’s tradeable skills, then went big—burned all 300 team points in one shot!

  Ever since sniffing out a possible traitor, Kevin stayed sharp as a blade. He was done playing safe—time to dump everything into leveling up. Scoring another jackpot like that 300% flip on a 100-point bet? He’d have to keep breathing to cash it in. Kevin didn’t mess around, trading with Melk for three skills fast:

  Mobility Mastery Level 1: Boosts walking and running speed by 5%, dodging by 5%.

  Large Blades Mastery Level 1: Ups handling of swords, rapiers, axes, and big blades, pumping damage by 5%.

  Throat Slash Level 1: Advanced melee active skill.

  Prerequisites: Small Blades Mastery, Large Blades Mastery, or other requirements. Works with bladed weapons.

  Cost: Drains 10 energy points per use, good for one hit.

  Effect: When triggered, the target rolls a Toughness check with a -3 penalty. Fail it, and Throat Slash lands—drops enemies with 100 HP flat. Over 100 HP, it hits for quadruple damage and bleeds ‘em for 5 seconds, 6 HP per tick.

  Note: Needs a special character or scroll to unlock. Worldhoppers can’t grab it solo.

  After scoping the three skills, Kevin cracked a cold grin and pulled his dagger, primed to carve into the prison’s guts.

  Mallow stuck tight behind Kevin. He’d shelled out 100 team points to snag Physical Defense Mastery Level 1 from T-Bone. Confidence pumped through him hard.

  Survival of the fittest—that’s the fuckin’ law! Keep leveling or you’re burned toast!