Miles simply grunted in response, and the two of them fell into a heavy silence as the military jeep sped down the empty highway.
The Thirteenth District lay to the south of the city, nestled against what used to be a bustling shopping district. It had once been lively, packed with crowds and neon signs—but now, it was eerily silent. High population density meant only one thing in the apocalypse: more corpses, and more danger.
Driving a military vehicle on an emergency mission came with perks. Special lanes cleared their way, red lights ignored. Paige pressed the pedal down hard, her hands gripping the wheel with white-knuckled tension as they tore through the abandoned streets.
As they neared the Thirteenth District, fortified checkpoints loomed ahead. Soldiers, already briefed on their arrival, waved them through without a second glance, lifting barriers to clear their path. The closer they got, the more unnerving the scene became. In the dim streets, clusters of rotting corpses—zombies—stood in vacant stupors or sprawled lifelessly across the concrete.
The roar of their engine snapped the undead out of their trance. Heads twisted toward the sound, jaws slack, and the horde began to shamble forward. Paige didn’t slow down. Zombies that wandered into their path were either launched into the air or crushed under heavy tires without hesitation.
As they approached Building 17, Miles leaned forward, frowning.
"Hell, that's a lot of them," he muttered.
Hundreds of zombies clogged the streets, crammed into the stairwells and entrances. Their numbers spilled out like an overflowing dam of flesh and decay.
"If we want to fight through that, we’ll burn through half our ammo," he noted grimly.
Paige circled the building, searching for a breach. No luck—every door was barricaded by bodies, either living or dead.
She clicked her tongue in frustration. "Didn't you say you had a way to get up top with those wires of yours? Go. Check if the survivors are still alive. I’ll figure something out down here."
Miles gave her a sidelong look, half-smirking. "Careful, beautiful. I’d hate to have to point a gun at that pretty face."
"Just go already," she snapped, though a smirk tugged at her lips. Then, her voice softened slightly. "If... If I get bitten, don't hesitate. End it. I mean it."
Miles nodded, no trace of humor in his eyes. "Don’t worry. I’ll always keep one bullet reserved—whether for you or for myself."
Without another word, he fired a steel cable from his wrist-mounted launcher. It shot up, embedding into the wall of the seventh floor. In one smooth motion, Miles was yanked from the vehicle, soaring into the air.
Paige watched him go, then scoffed under her breath and jammed the accelerator.
She spun the jeep around to the building's entrance, unloading a full magazine into the nearest cluster of zombies before gunning the engine again. The mass of undead, attracted by the gunfire and engine noise, lurched after her, abandoning the building like moths chasing a flame.
Her plan was simple—lead them on a slow chase, away from Miles.
Landing on the rooftop, Miles barely had time to react when a shadow lunged at him. Instinct took over. He ducked low, sweeping his leg in a brutal arc.
The attacker—black-furred, barely reaching his knee—was sent flying into the rooftop guardrail with a snarl.
It was a cat. No—something worse.
[Mutant Cat]
Strength: 2
Agility: 15
Constitution: 15
Spirit: 1
Not a zombie. A mutant.
Miles' heart skipped. No wonder it's so damn fast. With that size and agility, even bullets might struggle to hit it.
Switching to the Greedy Blade, Miles squared off. The cat crouched, muscles coiling—and in a blink, it pounced, closing the distance in a split second.
Blade met claw.
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The mutant tried to bat the weapon aside, but the enchanted steel sliced effortlessly through its paw and across its torso. The creature howled—a sound far too large for its body—and crumpled into a rapidly deflating husk.
[Greedy Blade EXP +2%]
[Experience +3000]
Miles wiped the blood from his blade, frowning. That thing was strong. If it hadn’t underestimated the blade, that could’ve been ugly.
He approached the rooftop access door cautiously—but then, a low growl rumbled behind him. He turned slowly, dread pooling in his gut.
Three more mutant cats emerged from the shadows, eyes gleaming with lethal intent.
"Figures," Miles muttered. "Cats are born climbers."
Before he could say more, they pounced. In a blur of motion, the rooftop became a deadly dance—four agile shadows weaving, slashing, evading.
These ones were smarter. They didn’t challenge the blade directly. Instead, they darted in and out, looking for an opening. Miles mirrored them, his body honed to a razor’s edge. Fifteen minutes passed in a blur of dodges and feints, neither side able to land a killing blow.
Panting, Miles gritted his teeth. This isn’t sustainable.
He reached into his backpack, pulling out a cluster of grenades. With a savage grin, he yanked the pins from all of them and scattered them across the rooftop.
Then he sprinted to the edge—and jumped.
The mutant cats stared, stunned. Had their prey just thrown himself to his death?
Miles spun midair, firing cables into the sixth floor wall, pulling himself through a window just as the rooftop erupted in a series of thunderous blasts.
The last thing he saw before tucking into a roll was a rain of blood and charred fur.
[Experience +9000]
[Level Up]
[Points available: 2]
Without hesitation, Miles dumped the points into Agility.
[Miles - Demon Hunter LV17]
Strength: 8
Agility: 17
Constitution: 10
Spirit: 8
[Greedy Blade LV6]
Attack: 350
Experience: 2%
He smirked grimly. Too bad the blade didn’t get credit for the kills. Waste of good EXP.
The moment he turned, his instincts screamed. He ducked—and drove the Greedy Blade straight into the gaping maw of a zombie that had tried to ambush him.
The corpse shriveled instantly.
Miles switched back to his rifle and swept the room. Empty, except for the lingering stench of death.
Peering through the peephole, he counted a handful of zombies in the hallway.
Manageable.
He ripped open the door, lobbed three grenades into the crowd, and slammed it shut just as the first rotting hands clawed through. He grinned as he shoved hard, slicing through zombie arms like twigs.
Three explosions rocked the building, bending the steel-reinforced door inward. When Miles stepped back out, the hallway was painted in gore.
"Heh. Military-grade hardware. Gotta love it," he muttered.
Charging down the stairs, he opened fire in controlled bursts. Zombies crumpled like broken dolls, each shot surgical and efficient. His enhanced reflexes and spirit made headshots almost trivial.
By the time he reached the fifth floor, the stairwell was a charnel house. Miles kicked open a door—and found three zombies inside: a family, still wearing matching pajamas, faces twisted in mindless hunger.
He sighed. "Rest easy."
Three shots. Three bodies dropped.
Checking room after room, he found nothing but corpses—until gunfire erupted from upstairs.
Right. Seven floors.
He bolted up to the seventh floor just as a group of ragged soldiers burst out of a stairwell, weapons aimed directly at him.
Miles threw up his hands. "Whoa! I’m the rescue party, remember?"
After a tense moment, the soldiers lowered their guns. One of them, a grizzled sergeant, offered a sheepish smile.
"Sorry. We’re a little jumpy. Are you alone?"
Miles jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "There’s a lady outside keeping the undead entertained."
The sergeant groaned, running a hand through filthy hair. "Christ. There are mutants down there—dogs, cats—you name it. We couldn’t punch through."
Miles grinned wolfishly. "Leave 'em to me."
Before anyone could protest, he was already moving, sensing trouble brewing outside.
Outside, Paige was leading the horde in a slow chase around the building. But now, a pack of mutant dogs—hulking, slavering things—was closing in fast.
Miles wasted no time. He pulled the last eight grenades from his pack and hurled them behind the jeep, detonating in a series of concussive booms that scattered the undead like leaves.
Using the chaos, he sprinted and vaulted onto the back of the jeep, landing with a thud.
Paige glanced in the rearview mirror, smirking. "Nice jump, hunter. You ever think of going for Olympic gold instead of playing hero?"
Miles chuckled as he chambered a fresh round. "Born to suffer, sweetheart. Might as well make it spectacular."
As the first mutant dogs lunged, he lined up his shots and fired. Heads burst like melons.
[Zombie Dog]
Strength: 2
Agility: 3
Constitution: 5
Spirit: 0
Just zombie dogs. Where the hell are the real threats?
"Focus, Miles!" Paige barked. "We still have survivors to extract!"
She wheeled the jeep around, scooping up two soldiers who leapt onto the vehicle. Together, the trio laid down devastating covering fire, clearing a path.
But when they rounded the corner—Miles cursed.
From the walls of Building 17, dozens of mutant cats were descending, claws gleaming. Below, nearly a dozen more mutant dogs prowled the street.
The soldiers' faces paled.
One of them screamed in defiance. "COME ON, YOU UGLY BASTARDS!"
He opened fire with reckless abandon, his rifle spitting death.
Inside the building, the remaining three soldiers realized their fate. As mutant cats closed in, they shared grim smiles—and pulled every grenade pin they had.
When the mutants pounced, the explosions tore through them, sending showers of blood and shattered bodies across the burning skyline.
The cost of survival had been paid—in blood.