The special ops team split into two groups. Each member was highly trained, their physical prowess far exceeding that of ordinary people—faster even than Miles in his current state.

  When Miles saw them chasing from downstairs, he had no choice but to retreat upward, sprinting for the top floor while staying alert to his surroundings. Judging from the state of the building, it had only been infected for about a day. No high-level zombies had shown up yet. He reached the top floor without encountering a single one. It was as if the special ops had drawn all the infected away in advance.

  The rooftop was eerily silent—so quiet that even the usual chirps of nighttime insects were absent. Only distant traffic noise echoed faintly from the streets below. Just then, the sound of boots on the stairwell signaled the team’s arrival. Miles quickly ducked into a nearby executive office. It was spacious and even had a wardrobe.

  He slipped inside the wardrobe and held his breath. Moments later, the soldiers reached the top.

  "Captain Marshall, you sure he's up here? It's too quiet. Feels... wrong."

  “He's here,” Marshall replied firmly. “There’s a footprint on the stair—male, judging by the size. He must be hiding in one of the offices. Paige, Ben, search the left. I’ll take the right.”

  Just as Marshall reached for the handle of the very office where Miles was hiding, a monstrous shriek tore through the silence. It came from the CEO's office at the end of the corridor.

  The three of them froze. Their faces went pale, hairs standing on end. That was no ordinary zombie.

  Marshall raised his hand, signaling the others to stop. They backed away slowly toward the stairs.

  Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors at the corridor’s end burst outward, splintering under a tremendous force. With each blow, cracks deepened until a claw—roughly the size of a human torso—smashed through the wood.

  “Fall back!” Marshall shouted.

  The team bolted down the stairs just as the door exploded off its hinges. A towering, two-meter-tall zombie charged out. It leapt toward the stairwell, its massive claws catching the railings as it descended in terrifying bursts.

  Once the coast was clear, Miles slipped out of the office. He crept to the stairwell, peeked down, then sprinted to the now-smashed CEO’s office. Thankfully, the zombie had already demolished the door—saving him the trouble.

  Inside, the office was a wreck. Desks shattered, furniture overturned, papers scattered across the floor. Miles skimmed the documents: corporate proposals, pharmaceutical plans—nothing about the outbreak itself.

  Then, spotting a broken desk flipped on its side, he forced open the locked drawer with his Greed Blade. Inside were documents far more interesting.

  Apparently, the company’s CEO had made a deal with a known arms smuggler to acquire a chemical agent called “Genesis.” The transaction had been set for the day before—the very day everything went to hell.

  Just as he finished reading, the system pinged.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  [Mission Complete: +100 Game Coins]

  New missions popped up:

  Track the whereabouts of the Genesis compound within 3 days. Reward: 1000 GC. Failure: Mission will disappear.

  Locate CEO Victor and uncover the seller’s identity within 3 days. Reward: 800 GC.

  Eliminate the evolved zombie and all infected within the building in 6 hours to prevent viral spread. Reward: 500 GC.

  Miles let out a dry chuckle. “More coins, sure... but way harder tasks.”

  Evolved zombies were on a whole different level—several times more powerful than standard infected. He wouldn’t know the specifics until engaging in combat.

  Luckily, he was no stranger to the in-game trading system. After four years of grinding, he could navigate the menus in his sleep. He immediately bought a modified Desert Eagle for 100 GC—12-round capacity, 35 damage per shot. Enough to headshot infected... but an evolved zombie? That was another story.

  A black flash later, the sleek, obsidian-finished Deagle materialized in his hands. The system kindly provided a box of bullets too—50 rounds in total, plus 12 already loaded.

  His old Type-54 pistol had run dry, and in this apocalypse, dead weight was a liability. He tossed it aside.

  Just as he was about to move, a figure emerged on the stairs—a hulking evolved zombie, blood-red eyes locked onto him.

  They stared at each other for a heartbeat. Then the creature lunged.

  Miles raised his gun and fired, emptying all 12 rounds in a rapid burst. The recoil from the modded Deagle was brutal, and a few shots missed, but nine found their mark. Blood burst from the zombie’s torso—and one shot even shredded half its face, leaving one eye dangling.

  The monster howled and stumbled into the office, crashing into walls in a frenzy.

  Miles switched weapons. He holstered the Deagle and drew the Greed Blade. Charging forward, he plunged the blade into the zombie’s back, one hand gripping the ruined face, the other yanking the blade deeper.

  The creature screamed louder, black veins spreading across its back. The blade's parasitic effect was taking hold, leeching its genetic core.

  The zombie thrashed violently, slamming itself into walls, tossing furniture. But Miles clung on like a barnacle.

  Its agility stat was 3—three times faster than an average adult. He wouldn’t last in a prolonged skirmish. His own Agility was only 1.1.

  Several hard hits cracked his ribs and tore his back on jagged debris. Just as the creature prepared for another brutal slam—

  —it froze.

  The black veins had reached its brain.

  With one final twitch, the zombie collapsed.

  Miles fell to the floor, coughing blood. As he retracted the Greed Blade, a warm sensation surged through his body, soothing his wounds like a dip in a hot spring. His cuts closed rapidly. Pain faded.

  He pulled up his status.

  Miles – Demon Hunter (Trainee) LV 3 – EXP: 17%

  Strength: 1.1

  Agility: 1.3 → 2.3 (after allocating stat point)

  Constitution: 2

  Spirit: 1.6

  Unspent Points: 0

  Items:

  Greed Blade (Lv1 – 93% EXP)

  With increased Agility, he could now handle the Desert Eagle’s recoil more efficiently—no more shaking hands.

  He reloaded, checked the mission log, and—

  [Mission: Not Yet Complete]

  He frowned at the shriveled zombie corpse. “Seriously? That wasn't the one?”

  Apparently, the real target had chased the three special ops members. "Screw me sideways... almost died for nothing. Guess it’s time to level up the blade."

  He grumbled while heading downstairs.

  Room by room, floor by floor, he cleared the building. By the time he reached the third floor, half an hour had passed.

  Outside, the area was locked down. Police had formed the outer perimeter, while armed forces and special units conducted a floor-by-floor sweep. Even armored vehicles and heavy artillery were deployed.

  Seeing no chance of escape through the front, Miles ducked into a nearby bathroom. A maintenance pipe led to ground level—sliding down would be tricky, but with 2.3 Agility, doable.

  He landed in the company’s logistics yard, surrounded by ten massive storage warehouses. One—Warehouse No. 4—had a claw mark gouged into its steel shutter. Something had torn straight through the metal.

  The place was lit up like a stadium—floodlights placed every ten meters.

  No time to waste.

  Miles sprinted for Warehouse 4. The side door was open.

  Inside, bullet casings littered the floor. Blood trails led to a dark corner. Five zombies lay dead—each with precise headshots.

  "Looks like those special ops really knew their stuff."