As dusk settled over Mansion No. 9, Zack went downstairs for some food. Sophia was still resting upstairs, too exhausted to get up after the day’s events.

“Ego,” he called.

“Yes, sir?” The AI’s voice hummed back to life as Zack finished his meal.

“Anything unusual around here?”

“One moment… scanning,” Ego replied, connecting to a nearby satellite. “The area is secure, sir. The nearest zombie is over a kilometer away, so you should be safe to sleep tonight.”

“Good,” Zack replied, feeling a rare sense of relief.

“Ego, pull up a list of materials,” he added. “I want to make some modifications to the escort vehicle.”

As he walked toward the basement, a virtual map appeared before his eyes, marking several potential sources of the materials he needed. Grabbing his fully charged MV-01 armor, he exited through the garage.

A short while later, Zack returned, pushing a heavily loaded Land Rover packed with salvaged parts. On top, he’d balanced a massive bulldozer bucket, making the vehicle appear even more formidable. The weight of his modifications had punctured the tires, causing sparks to fly as he dragged it back to the Mansion.

Parking the Land Rover in the basement, he stripped off his armor and retrieved the escort vehicle, preparing it for the modifications.

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

With a determined sigh, Zack took a sip of water and set to work, determined to turn the vehicle into a fortress on wheels.

As time passed, the escort vehicle transformed dramatically. Its once simple exterior turned into a beastly, armored machine, unrecognizable from its original form. A sturdy plate was mounted on the front, perfect for clearing obstacles—or anything in its way. Thick layers of reinforced armor covered its body, and vicious spikes jutted out, ensuring no zombie could climb aboard. The tires were upgraded to run-flat models, able to withstand rough terrains and enemy attacks.

To make things easier for MV-01 Armor, Zack modified the door, moving it from the back to the center of the truck, replacing it with a larger, double-door entrance. Powering this three-ton steel juggernaut was a six-cylinder diesel engine from a Land Rover, giving it unmatched horsepower. This was no longer just an escort vehicle—it was an unstoppable steel chariot, tailor-made for the apocalypse.

After finalizing these modifications, Zack glanced at the time. "Holy crap, it's already midnight?" He blinked, surprised, realizing how late it had become. The silence around him was eerie; there were no zombie roars in the night, and he felt oddly unsettled by the stillness. "Next time I find some zombies, I should record their noises—might work as a lullaby." He chuckled at his own joke, set down his welding gun, and made his way upstairs.

The quiet was strange, almost reminiscent of the peaceful times before the world fell apart. But just a dozen kilometers away, an entirely different scene was unfolding.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

In the industrial zone, shadows darted through the darkness, their movements swift and silent. Silhouetted figures crept along factory rooftops, scanning their surroundings as if searching for something. Their low, guttural growls echoed in the darkness, the distinct sounds of night stalkers, communicating in their unique, unnerving way.

In the northern part of the park, the steel plant sat shrouded in darkness. Not a single light was on, and silence reigned, as if even the slightest sound could bring disaster. The workers inside stayed utterly still, the roars of the night stalkers ringing in their ears. Everyone knew something was off tonight; the night stalkers had not left the industrial park to hunt as usual. Instead, they prowled around, circling the park in search of something unknown.

The night dragged on until finally, the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, and the roars of the night stalkers faded. As sunlight bathed the factory, relief washed over the workers—they had survived another night. Just as they began to celebrate, a voice cut through the air.

"Gather up! Boss Jacob has something to say!"

The mere mention of Jacob’s name was enough to jolt the weary, exhausted crowd into action. Within moments, they assembled, some still groggy from the night’s tension. Soon, a towering, bald man with a face marked by scars made his way to the front, carrying a bruised man with ease—the steel plant’s director, Director Sean.

“Husband!” a woman in the crowd gasped, her voice filled with concern as she saw Sean’s battered state. Realizing her slip, she quickly covered her mouth, but her eyes betrayed her worry. Beside her, a young boy with close-cropped hair tensed up, as if ready to charge forward. She grabbed his arm, holding him back.

With a casual flick, Jacob tossed Director Sean onto the ground as if he were a rag doll. One of his lackeys handed him a towel, which he used to wipe the blood from his hands. "Did everyone hear what happened last night?" Jacob’s cold gaze swept over the crowd. "The reason for this mess is that someone here exposed our position to the vampires.”

A murmur of shock rippled through his followers, and several men glared daggers at Director Sean, fury evident in their eyes. They were loyal to Jacob, living off his scraps, indulging in food, drink, and fleeting pleasures. Now, someone had risked it all.

“Boss, just say the word! Let’s end this traitor right now!” one of his men snarled, brandishing a knife.

“That’s right!” another chimed in, fists clenched. “Can’t let him ruin everything we’ve built!”

The rest of the steel plant workers lowered their heads, not daring to watch the violence that was about to unfold. They knew the truth, but Jacob’s word was law. No one could oppose him.

"Good." Jacob smirked, pleased with his men’s loyalty and anger. It was exactly the reaction he wanted. His authority, solidified even more. "kill him," he ordered, striding away toward his makeshift quarters in the factory’s office area, which he had converted into his private bedroom.

With his approval, his lackeys’ eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction as they approached Sean, knives in hand, eager to carry out their grim orders.

“Jacob!” a trembling voice suddenly called out from the crowd.

“Shut up if you value your life!” someone hissed nearby. “Think of your child, Anne!”

But the woman, determined, stepped forward. She looked at Jacob’s retreating figure, desperation in her voice. "Please, Jacob! For the sake of our past…!"

Without a backward glance, he continued walking, ignoring her plea. But as she opened her mouth to call out again, one of his henchmen—eager to show his loyalty—slapped her hard across the face.

“Stupid woman! Can’t you see Jacob isn’t interested in your whining?” he sneered, silencing her once and for all.

The force of the slap nearly knocked the woman out.

“Mom!” cried the short-haired child by her side. The voice, surprisingly clear and feminine, rang out, capturing everyone’s attention.

Jacob halted mid-step, his men freezing in shock. Greedy eyes roamed the crowd, seeking the source. The steel plant workers surged forward, forming a protective circle around the girl. This short-haired child, who had hidden her identity until now, was their pride—a young genius they’d all come to respect. They couldn’t let these brutes ruin her.