"YOU HAVE SEVEN DAYS."
The words echoed in the abyss. A chilling voice, neither human nor machine, reverberated through Leon Vance’s shattered consciousness.
Then—agony.
He felt his body burning, his bones cracking, his skin splitting apart as his blood turned to fire. The world around him blurred, fading between the dead-infested ruins of the past and something else—something ancient and beyond comprehension.
Then, darkness.
And suddenly—he was alive again.
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YEAR 2042 – THE END OF THE WORLD
Leon stood atop the collapsed skyscraper, his body battered, his breathing ragged. His once-pristine military armor was now shredded rags barely clinging to his scarred frame.
The city of Ashenfall was nothing more than a wasteland—a battlefield where only the dead roamed. The sky, once blue, was now a permanent shade of crimson, streaked with the smoke of burning corpses and abandoned vehicles.
And below him, the horde gathered.
Thousands—no, tens of thousands of evolved zombies, monstrosities with glowing cores embedded in their bodies.
Among them stood the Zombie Overlord, its body towering over the wreckage, twisted into something that no longer resembled human or beast. It was the end of the line.
Leon exhaled. Ten years.
Ten years of blood, sweat, and pain.
He had watched as his squadmates were devoured, his closest friends turning into monsters before his very eyes. He had lost everything—his family, his home, his humanity. And yet, he survived.
Fought.
Endured.
Became the strongest human alive.
And yet…
It wasn’t enough.
The Overlord moved.
Faster than he could react, a claw tore through his chest, piercing straight through his armor and flesh. Blood spilled from his lips as his vision dimmed.
“…Is this it?” Leon muttered, his voice barely a whisper.
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He had given everything. Yet, humanity still fell.
A bitter smile formed on his lips. At least I fought until the end.
Then—
A voice.
“You have seven days.”
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APRIL 7, 2032 – ONE WEEK BEFORE THE APOCALYPSE
Leon woke up with a gasp.
His chest was whole. His wounds were gone. The pain of death had vanished.
The familiar scent of fabric softener filled his lungs, and soft sunlight streamed through the blinds of his old apartment.
He was home.
Heart pounding, Leon turned to the nightstand, where a digital clock blinked ominously.
[DATE: April 7, 2032]
He froze.
Seven days before the world ends.
His hands clenched into fists as his past life flooded back. The deaths. The betrayals. The endless suffering.
And now—he had a second chance.
His breathing steadied. This time… I’m not just surviving. I’m winning.
Leon wasted no time.
Every second mattered.
Ripping open his closet, he grabbed his old military duffel bag. He needed weapons, supplies, and an advantage before chaos erupted.
His mind raced with a mental checklist:
✔️ Stockpile rations before the panic buying begins.
✔️ Secure weapons—guns, blades, explosives.
✔️ Hunt the first infected and seize their Core.
Yes, pre-outbreak zombies.
Most believed the infection started on April 14 when the chaos erupted in the streets. They were wrong.
Leon knew the truth.
The virus was already here—hidden in Blackwood Research Facility, where the government had been experimenting with bio-enhancements.
In his past life, rumors surfaced too late—no one acted fast enough to find Patient Zero before the outbreak consumed everything. But now?
Leon would be the first.
And this time, the first Core would be his.
THE FIRST HUNT BEGINS
By nightfall, Leon was armed.
A tactical knife strapped to his thigh.
A Glock pistol secured in his waistband.
A crowbar slung over his shoulder.
Basic tools for now.
But soon, he would wield power beyond human limits.
His destination? Blackwood Research Facility.
Nestled in the outskirts of the city, the facility had been shut down after a failed experiment. Official records claimed it was due to “funding cuts.”
Leon knew better.
He moved silently through the deserted streets, the distant hum of city life blissfully unaware that in just seven days, this place would become a graveyard.
Reaching the facility, he slipped through the rusted back entrance.
The air inside was stale and cold.
Then—
A low, guttural growl.
Leon froze.
His eyes locked onto the figure ahead.
The first infected.
It was still in its early stage—flesh pale, veins darkening as the virus corrupted its body. It hadn’t fully turned yet.
But its eyes…
Glowing red. Hungry.
Leon’s grip tightened on his crowbar.
Time to make history.
He lunged.
Metal met skull with a sickening crack, but the zombie didn’t go down. Snarling, it swiped at him, its nails blackened and jagged.
Leon dodged, pivoting smoothly.
He had fought thousands of these before.
This one? Nothing.
With a single fluid motion, he drove his knife straight into its temple.
The zombie convulsed—then collapsed, black ichor leaking from its wound.
A faint glow shimmered within its chest.
Leon crouched, fingers digging into still-warm flesh. He pulled out his prize.
A small, pulsing black Core.
His first step toward power.
But just as he turned to leave—
A second growl.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Leon’s breath hitched.
His past life was wrong.
This wasn’t just a single infected.
It was an entire nest.