As the horrifying scene unfolded before her eyes, Paige’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Her jaw clenched, and without a second thought, she slammed her foot down on the gas pedal. The Jeep roared as it hurtled toward the neighborhood's main gate.

  But fate had a twisted sense of humor.

  A pack of over twenty mutated hounds blocked the exit. Their twisted bodies were larger than normal, muscles rippling beneath mangled fur, eyes glowing a sickly red. The moment they spotted the Jeep charging forward, they surged like a wave of death.

  “Shit!” Miles swore as he saw them approach. Without hesitation, he leaned out the window and opened fire.

  The Foxhunter spat flame and lead with brutal efficiency, but these weren’t the slow, lumbering beasts they’d fought earlier. These were faster—far faster—and erratic. They darted left and right in unpredictable patterns, dodging bullets with unnatural agility.

  “Keep driving!” Miles shouted, vaulting onto the hood of the Jeep. His eyes narrowed. “I’ll handle the pups. I used to eat your kind for breakfast. Trying to settle the score now, huh?”

  In one smooth motion, he swapped his rifle for the Greed Blade. A beast lunged—fangs bared and claws ready to shred. But Miles was faster. His blade arced upward, cleaving through both front legs in a spray of dark blood. Without breaking stride, he grabbed the creature’s hind legs and swung it like a grotesque club, smashing an incoming dog mid-leap.

  His 8-point Strength and 17 Agility came into play like a dance of death. Each movement was fluid, precise—deadly. Every dog that came at him from the left was slammed aside with their own kin as a bludgeon. Those that lunged from the right found steel stabbing beneath their jaws and bursting out their skulls.

  Behind him, the two soldiers sat stunned in the Jeep, mouths agape. They could barely track Miles’ movements. One second his hand was a blur—the next, another mutant was dead, either impaled or beheaded.

  The Jeep burst through the gate with a triumphant crunch. The few surviving dogs tried to pursue but quickly fell behind, unable to keep up.

  Miles finally let out a breath, glancing at the corpse still clutched in his hand. Its skull was caved in, chest a ruined cavity of pulp.

  “Hey Paige,” he called back with a crooked grin, “think we should take this one home? Might make a good stew.”

  Paige didn’t reply. Instead, she slammed the brakes without warning.

  The violent stop hurled Miles off the hood. He flipped midair, landing smoothly on his feet. The two soldiers weren’t so lucky—they slammed into the back of the seats with a painful thud, one of them wincing as a purple bruise bloomed on his forehead.

  Neither dared complain.

  Paige wasn’t just anyone. In the military, her reputation preceded her. Even if they weren’t under her direct command, everyone knew who the ice queen was.

  Brushing himself off, Miles dropped the mangled corpse and said, “Damn, no need to get cranky. I’m fine, but those two might need some ice packs.”

  “We’re good!” one soldier chirped quickly. “Keep going!”

  Paige ignored them and pointed to a nearby commercial building.

  “There,” she said. “Someone’s calling for help. Hey, Demon Hunter, wanna go be a hero? Pretty sure I saw a few ladies up there. Might get lucky if you save the right one.”

  Miles looked up.

  Several people were waving desperately from the upper floors. A few were women, though none matched the ‘bombshell damsel’ Paige seemed to be implying.

  Still, rescuing survivors meant XP and loot now.

  “Fine,” he said, shrugging. “But your Jeep can’t fit that many.”

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  She turned to the soldiers. “Names?”

  “Silas,” the younger one answered. “And he’s Reed.”

  “Good. Which of you knows how to hotwire a truck?”

  “I’ll get it done.” Silas jumped out and sprinted toward an abandoned bus nearby.

  Miles didn’t wait. He launched his grappling line and soared into the air, crashing through a fourteenth-story window with practiced ease.

  He hung from the sill and knocked on the glass with a smirk.

  “Mind giving me some space? I can’t save you all while hanging like Batman.”

  The survivors scrambled back. Miles rolled inside.

  A frantic man ran up to him. “Officer! There are zombies everywhere! Call for backup—get the army!”

  Miles chuckled. “Backup’s here. You’re looking at it.”

  “What?! There’s only a few of you! There’s hundreds of zombies out there! Where’s the garrison?”

  “Dead,” Miles said flatly. “Wiped out a few hours ago. This area’s a dead zone now. If you want to live, come with me. If not, good luck.”

  “You worthless bastards!” a middle-aged woman screeched. “We pay taxes! What good are you if you can’t protect us?”

  Miles didn’t flinch. “Go save yourself, then.”

  He strode to the door and kicked it off its hinges. Two zombies lunged from the hallway. With mechanical precision, Miles lashed out—one kick each. The undead flew back like rag dolls, their brittle bones snapping on impact. Gunshots followed, and both were finished cleanly.

  Five younger men stepped forward, visibly trembling.

  “We’ll follow you,” one said.

  Miles nodded. The rest of the group hesitated, eyeing the broken door. Staying behind clearly wasn’t an option anymore. The shrill woman glared but followed all the same, grumbling under her breath.

  Just as he’d planned.

  Letting the zombies in meant they had no choice but to follow. More survivors meant more XP—and more loot.

  Luckily, the building was only infested with basic undead and a few mutants. With Miles clearing the path in a bloody, efficient rampage, they moved quickly. The brutality silenced even the mouthiest complainers. The shrill woman clung to the rear of the group, no longer daring to speak.

  Outside, the bus awaited them. Silas was behind the wheel, Reed standing guard. A few corpses nearby testified to his marksmanship.

  The group rushed inside, shoving and scrambling. The younger ones moved quickly, but the older men and women fought tooth and nail for the door.

  Paige had had enough.

  She marched over and delivered a brutal kick to the nearest pair, sending them sprawling. Her pistol came up, pointed at their faces.

  “You wanna die? Just say the word. I’ll do you the favor.”

  Miles laughed. “Military discipline. Gotta love it.”

  The youth boarded first. The adults followed sheepishly, casting wary glances. But Miles had seen it—the flash of hatred in that woman’s eyes. He didn’t forget.

  “Looks like we’re full,” he said with a pleasant smile. “Might need to lighten the load.”

  The bus had room for thirty. They were only thirteen.

  Everyone froze.

  Miles walked over to the woman and tapped her shoulder. “Sorry ma’am, we’re overloaded. You’ll have to wait for the next one.”

  “What?! There’s plenty of space!”

  “Not with you aboard,” he said. “You’re tipping the scale. Please disembark, or I’ll make you.”

  Her face turned red with rage. “You arrogant bastard! I’ll sue you! I’m an executive at—”

  Miles cut her off. With one hand, he grabbed her collar and dragged her out the door, tossing her to the pavement like yesterday’s trash.

  “I warned you.”

  Her shrieks faded as the bus roared to life and sped away. Paige didn’t spare her a glance.

  Reed shook his head. “Miles, you’re gonna get court-martialed.”

  “By who?” Miles shrugged. “I’m just a college kid. Who’s gonna stop me?”

  Reed laughed and gave him a thumbs-up. “If every student was like you, we’d all be out of jobs.”

  One of the rescued youths blinked in shock. “Wait… you’re a student? You’re not with the army?”

  “He saved us,” Reed said simply. “Not the other way around.”

  The survivors sat in stunned silence as the bus pulled away—until a monstrous roar split the air.

  A massive figure stepped into the road.

  Naked. Towering over three meters. Its body looked like it had been stitched together from corpses. Massive claws the size of human torsos. A grotesque tongue slithered out and wrapped around a fallen body, pulling it into a drooling maw.

  Paige slammed the brakes. “Reverse! Now!”

  Silas obeyed. The thing could crush the bus like paper.

  Miles jumped down, checking his gear. “A Devourer? Already? On Day Two?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Someone’s speeding things up. They want this place turned into a breeding ground.”

  He looked back. “Keep driving. This thing throws cars like rocks. I’ll handle it.”

  “You serious?” a student gasped.

  Reed grinned. “Just watch.”

  Miles rushed forward, switching to acid rounds. The Foxhunter barked—acid splashing against the monster’s flesh. Smoke hissed where it struck. The Devourer roared in pain, grabbing a nearby car and hurling it at him.

  Miles ducked and rolled, the car sailing overhead. More shots burned into the beast’s shoulder, revealing bone.

  It shrieked—and launched a fleshy tendril from its mouth.

  Miles rolled again, dodging narrowly. His last acid round hit home—right down its throat. The tongue spasmed, dissolving mid-air.

  The monster howled. Claws slammed the ground, ripping through concrete. Miles circled, staying just ahead, peppering it with fire rounds now. Flames erupted on its back, burning—but not killing.

  Then the Devourer did something new.

  Its stomach split open, revealing a second, massive maw. A spiked tentacle shot out like a cannon.

  Miles leapt back, heart pounding. That wasn’t in the game.

  The ground shattered around him as the meat whip flailed wildly.

  He grinned.

  “Guess I’ll have to improvise.”

  And with that, he loaded another round, aiming for the beast’s gaping, second mouth.