Waking up early, I got out of bed and wandered the streets. I bought a large backpack, similar to a military one but slightly smaller to fit my size.

With everything packed, I was ready to set off, but then a thought struck me—how would I make money?

I opened the system shop and considered whether I could resell equipment from the system in the real world. However, I recalled how, when I over-harvested a specific plant, the system started giving me less and less money for it.

Thinking it over, I realized I might be able to sell a few items without issue, but it could backfire in the long run. Why, you ask? Well, what happens if the system blocks me from buying more of that specific equipment? If my current one breaks and I can’t afford a replacement, would I have to fight barehanded?

That would be a death wish, and I’d gain nothing from it.

There was another issue: those thugs. They knew I was back in the city and were hunting me down for the little money I had left. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay here before they came knocking on my door, demanding a so-called “protection fee.”

My only option was to leave the city. They seemed to be searching for someone—or something—and staying here any longer was too dangerous.

I packed all the clothes I had into my new backpack and started thinking about my next move. The cave by the waterfall came to mind. It emitted spiritual energy and had benefitted me once before. If it didn’t work out this time, I could follow the stream past the mountain and see where it led.

As I stepped out of the inn, I noticed the streets were deserted. Soldiers patrolled the area, their presence tense and unwelcoming.

One of them spotted me and quickly approached.

“Go back inside. The streets are under lockdown by order of the Mayor,” he commanded, his tone firm as he waited for me to comply.

“Why is it forbidden to leave the city?” I asked, curious but cautious.

The soldier’s expression hardened, clearly annoyed by my question. “Don’t ask questions, cripple. Get back inside,” he snapped before turning away. Another soldier chuckled at his remark, mocking him.

Frustrated but knowing I had no choice, I returned to the inn. Their treatment left a bitter taste in my mouth, but what could I do? Causing a scene would only draw more soldiers, and I might end up grouped with whoever they were searching for.

This inn was different from most others. It lacked a common hall where travelers could gather and talk. Instead, it was full of private sleeping quarters, and meals were delivered directly to your room. If there had been a place to drink and mingle, it would’ve been an excellent spot for gathering information.

Returning to my room, I could only watch the soldiers patrolling the streets in boredom before turning my attention to practicing spiritual energy manipulation.

Without enough funds to purchase proper skills, I had to rely on basic exercises. I concentrated on channeling my energy efficiently, moving it from one part of my body to another in a zigzag pattern. I believed these exercises would prove useful in future battles, where speed and precision often determined the outcome.

Afterward, I purchased food from the system, and the sight of my remaining money—2 silver and 64 copper—left me uneasy.

I was already running low on funds and needed to prioritize saving for either new skills or better equipment. But which should I choose? Equipment would immediately help in hunting monsters, while skills offered long-term benefits.

Unfortunately, I was in dire need of money, so I had to put off buying skills for now. Just as I finished practicing and glanced out the window, I noticed that even the soldiers had disappeared.

Curious, I decided to step out of my room, but the innkeeper intercepted me.

“You should go back inside,” he said with a wary expression. “It’s not safe out there. Stay in your room and let the soldiers handle it.”

The innkeeper appeared to be in his early forties, though his worn face and graying beard suggested he was likely over sixty. He wore a simple white shirt and yellow pants, both slightly faded from years of use.

“Sir, do you know what’s happening outside?” I asked, hoping he had some information.

He hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one was listening, then gestured for me to lean closer.

“Well, if anyone asks, you didn’t hear it from me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “But from what I know, the Truth Seekers are in the city.”

The mention of their name made me gasp in shock.

The Truth Seekers—a notorious organization—were hunted worldwide for the horrific experiments they conducted. Despite years of efforts by countless groups to eradicate them, they always managed to survive and come back even stronger.

But why were they so reviled?

The Truth Seekers performed inhumane experiments on people, turning them into grotesque monsters. These creatures were worse than zombies; their presence brought devastation wherever they appeared. Entire cities had been transformed into uninhabitable wastelands due to their experiments, plagued by the abominations they left behind.

While monsters occasionally escape from the realms and raze cities to the ground, they are a lesser concern in the long term. Like us, they can travel to Earth, but unlike the devastation caused by monsters, cities destroyed by them can often be rebuilt after some time, allowing people to live there again.

Zombies, however, are a different story. When they occupy a city, they spread a mysterious virus that infects anyone who comes too close, turning them into more of the undead.

What do the higher-ups do about this? They have no choice but to deploy individuals from the Fourth Realm and beyond to keep the zombies contained. If those containment efforts falter, the zombies could overrun nearby cities.

And as for our so-called "protector"? They turn a blind eye to these threats as long as they aren't external. They seem more than happy to let us fight among ourselves.

Returning to my room, I couldn’t shake a growing sense of unease. I cursed myself for staying in the city. Why hadn’t I left earlier instead of spending the night here?

As I gazed out the window, I noticed the sun setting, painting the sky in deep hues of orange and purple. I had spent the entire day practicing. Now, with the sun gone and the streets eerily quiet, an ominous feeling settled over me.

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Moments later, shadowy figures in black emerged from the alleys. They moved quickly, clearly attempting to escape the city. But the city seemed prepared for this. The gates were suddenly closed, and soldiers swarmed the streets, capturing the fleeing individuals and escorting them away.

Was that it? Something didn’t add up. From what I knew, whenever the Truth Seekers appeared, chaos always followed. Yet this seemed almost too clean, too controlled. Something was off.

With no other options, I returned to my bed, my unease only growing. I braced myself for what might come next. Something big was on the horizon—I could feel it.

In an underground basement, figures draped in black robes gathered, their presence thick with an unsettling aura. Unlike the ones who had tried to escape the city, these individuals exuded a sickening, rotten stench that clung to the air.

“How is the plan progressing?” one of them asked, their voice hoarse and rasping.

“Everything is ready, Great Priest,” another replied, their tone equally coarse and unnatural.

“Then commence the purification. This city shall serve as our offering to the great god. All shall hail !?$@^+.”

But as the Great Priest uttered the entity's name, his body convulsed violently before collapsing to the ground. His form twitched once, then lay completely still, lifeless.

Despite the sudden death of their leader, the others didn’t flinch. Instead, they looked elated, their expressions filled with fanatical joy.

“The great god is watching us! We must not fail this mission!” another black-robed figure declared, their voice fervent and full of zeal.

Without hesitation, the group dispersed into the shadows, each carrying out their roles in the attack. The ominous silence of the basement was replaced by the faint echoes of their movements as they vanished into the city to fulfill their grim purpose.

Knock.Knock.

I woke to the sound of knocking from my neighbor's room. Faint chewing noises accompanied it, adding an eerie edge to the stillness.

I nearly yelled out in annoyance, but then I remembered—I didn’t have neighbors. Both rooms next to mine were empty.

A chill ran down my spine as I got out of bed, equipping my weapon and armor before cautiously stepping into the corridor. The moment I opened the door, an overpowering stench hit me like a wall.

“What the hell?” I muttered, recoiling. “Did someone take a shit in the hallway and smear it everywhere?”

But as I took a closer look, I realized it wasn’t feces. Black, viscous liquid coated the walls and floor, its oily sheen glinting faintly in the dim light.

“Is this some new drug from the underground?” I wondered aloud, resisting the urge to touch it. The substance pulsed faintly, almost alive, as I carefully made my way to my neighbor's door.

The handle, too, was coated in the strange black substance. Grimacing, I pulled a cloth from my backpack, wrapped it around my hand, and turned the handle.

What awaited inside was a sight that froze me in place.

The innkeeper was crouched over a body, feasting on it like a wild animal. Flesh and blood stained his mouth as he gnawed with ravenous hunger.

"Holy shit! The innkeeper is a cannibal?!"

The sound of the door opening startled him, and he turned toward me. That’s when I saw his face—and I knew something was horribly wrong.

His features were grotesquely distorted. Black liquid oozed from his mouth, and his eyes, once human, were now pitch black, with a glowing red pupil at the center that burned with a feral light.

Panic gripped me. This wasn’t normal. I had seen this before—somewhere.

I instinctively tried to slam the door shut, but the innkeeper lunged at me, slamming into it with inhuman strength. His head burst through the wood, splinters flying everywhere, as he began gnawing at the door and clawing at the edges.

With a swift motion, I drove my sword straight into his head.

But it wasn’t enough.

The blade embedded deep, but instead of stopping, he grew more frenzied, his movements even more violent.

“Ah, shit,” I muttered, dread settling in. “I know what this is.”

Zombies. These things were almost impossible to kill. Even decapitating them wouldn’t stop them—they’d keep chasing you for another 24 hours, headless and relentless.

The only way to stop them was to target the stomach. That’s where the parasite—the source of their grotesque transformation—nested.

Gripping my weapon tighter, I prepared myself for the fight ahead.

Here’s a lesser-known fact about zombies: they are controlled by parasites. Once these parasites enter a host's body, they slowly take over. The host feels nothing during the process, oblivious to the creeping infection until it’s too late. By the time the transformation is complete, the host becomes a frenzied monster, a ticking time bomb set to explode into chaos.

The innkeeper smashed through the door with inhuman strength, splinters flying everywhere. I had no choice but to act. Drawing on my spiritual energy, I slashed his body in half with a precise strike.

I hated wasting energy like this, but getting infected was far worse.

Taking out another cloth, I covered my face to block out the stench. The odor was unbearable, and I didn’t want to risk breathing it in any longer.

As I descended the stairs, I didn’t bother warning the other guests in the inn. For all I knew, they could already have been infected, waiting to turn into monsters. I couldn’t afford to waste precious time on them.

Once outside, the chaos of the city hit me in full force. Zombies were feasting on corpses in the streets, their grotesque forms illuminated by flickering streetlamps.

Screams erupted all around, piercing the night as the city awoke to the nightmare. Doors creaked open, and confused residents peeked outside to investigate, only to retreat in terror as they spotted the undead.

More zombies appeared, and their movements were erratic and feral. My stomach turned as I recognized their armor—they were city soldiers. The very ones who had patrolled the streets earlier.

They’d all turned.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, I knew there was only one option: I had to escape the city.

The southern gate was crawling with zombies, so I sprinted toward the northern side, praying it wasn’t sealed shut like the south. Others began running alongside me, but they were slower. I quickly left them behind.

Along the way, I saw people fighting— not against the zombies, but each other—over trivial things like coins and supplies. It was madness.

Under different circumstances, I might have considered robbing a bank and cashing the loot into the system. But with the zombies overrunning the city, it was too risky. A single scratch or bite would mean death—or worse.

I hacked through zombies as I dashed toward the northern gate, my spiritual energy coating my blade to make each strike lethal. Frustratingly, none of the kills could be sold to the system. Zombies were classified as worthless.

I gritted my teeth in frustration. All this effort, and no reward.

Finally, the northern gate came into view. Like the southern gate, it was sealed shut, but there were far fewer zombies in the area. It seemed they had been lured away earlier.

A small group of people was already fighting off the remaining zombies near the gate. Seeing an opportunity, I joined the battle, my spiritual energy enhancing my strikes as I cut down the undead with ease.

The sight of my skill boosted their morale, and the group rallied around me, dispatching the rest of the zombies with renewed vigor.

Once the last zombie fell, I turned to the group.

“Does anyone here know how to open this gate?” I asked, my voice cutting through the tense silence. I gestured toward the massive structure—roughly four meters tall and six meters wide. The two towering wooden doors were bound tightly with thick iron rods, making it clear brute force wouldn’t work.

A hesitant voice broke the quiet. “I know. The Northern Gate captain always carries the device with him.”

All eyes turned toward the speaker. He was a rotund man, likely a merchant, flanked by three heavily armed bodyguards. His golden teeth gleamed in the faint light, and his clothing was far too luxurious for someone in a city under siege. Everything about him screamed shady.

“Do you know where he is?” I pressed, desperate for any clue that could get us out of this nightmare.

The merchant shrugged lazily. “He spends most of his time in the red-light district. Probably holed up there now. But why not check the southern gate? It might still be open.”

I shook my head, frustration mounting. “The southern gate is in the same condition as this one. Worse, the captain there is already one of them—turned into a zombie along with his men.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to focus as I considered our options. The walls were climbable, but at six meters high, a fall would almost certainly be fatal for anyone without significant training or protective gear.

An idea sparked in my mind, risky but perhaps my only shot at escaping this city.