The room was a battleground of chaos. The sounds of the zombie’s claws scraping against the floor reverberated in August’s chest, a pulse of primal fear that threatened to overwhelm him. Jude, pinned under the hulking undead creature, gasped for breath, his bloodied hands struggling to push the monstrosity away. The thing was massive—its rotting flesh clung to its skeletal frame, and its eyes were a ghastly shade of milky white, devoid of any humanity.

August’s heart raced as the image of Jude’s pained expression etched itself into his mind. He had to act. There was no time to hesitate. There was no one else to rely on but himself, and the system in his head, which had already proven to be his greatest asset.

"System, activate," August thought, his mind working quickly.

The familiar interface flickered in front of his eyes, the blue holographic map and icons appearing as though from nowhere. His pulse quickened, but his fingers remained steady. The system had been with him through the worst of it—helping him find weapons, analyze terrain, and survive—but he’d never needed it so desperately as now.

"Skill Unlocked: Crafting – Basic Weaponry"

A brief list of options appeared. He had no time for anything complicated, no time to create intricate designs or advanced tools. He needed something simple, something that could pierce the zombie’s skull and save Jude.

“Knife,” August muttered under his breath, and the system immediately complied. A crude, but serviceable, blade materialized in his hands. It was forged from sharpened steel, jagged and rough, but sharp enough to do the job. August’s fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt, his grip firm and determined.

"Stay with me, Jude," August called, his voice steady despite the storm of panic in his chest. "I’m going to get you out of this."

Jude’s eyes flickered up, pain and disbelief mixing with the fear. "August... h-help me... I can’t—"

Before Jude could finish, the zombie lurched forward, its rotten teeth snapping toward Jude’s exposed neck. August’s heart skipped a beat as he sprinted forward, the knife gripped tightly in his hand. Without thinking, he leaped onto the creature’s back, forcing the knife into the soft tissue of its exposed skull.

The creature howled—a guttural, inhuman noise that echoed through the empty building. The impact made the zombie jerk back, shaking its head as though trying to dislodge August. But he wasn’t letting go.

With a primal scream of fury, August drove the knife deeper, twisting it until the creature’s body went limp. Finally, the monster collapsed to the ground, its limbs stiff and uncoordinated, until it was completely still. The air around them was thick with the stench of death and decay.

Jude gasped, his body still trapped beneath the weight of the fallen zombie. Sweat drenched his face, and his body was shaking violently, but there was a flash of relief in his eyes.

"Jude! You’re okay," August said, his voice laced with a mix of triumph and exhaustion.

Jude let out a low laugh, one tinged with pain. "I... I’m not sure about that," he grunted, still unable to free himself from the weight of the monster.

August quickly reached down, grabbing the dead zombie by its arm and dragging it off Jude. The effort was hard, the dead weight dragging him down. But with a final heave, he managed to push the body away and get Jude free.

Jude’s arm went limp as he tried to sit up, his breath labored, but the blood oozing from his shoulder told August everything he needed to know.

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“You’re hurt,” August said, concern replacing the adrenaline-fueled rush of moments before.

Jude looked down at the wound, where the zombie’s claws had shredded through his jacket and into his flesh. “Yeah, no kidding,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“Let me help you,” August said, reaching for the first aid kit he had managed to scrounge up earlier. He moved to apply pressure to the wound, but Jude grabbed his arm.

“No,” Jude grunted, shaking his head. “We don’t have time for this. We need to go—now.”

August hesitated, his fingers still hovering over the wound. The system pinged softly in his mind, but it didn’t matter. If they stayed any longer, they’d be trapped.

"Alright," August said, his voice tight. "We’ll patch you up later. Let’s move."

Jude nodded, grimacing as he forced himself to stand. The pain was evident in his eyes, but there was a determination there, too—a refusal to let this world break him.

August helped him to his feet, his arm around Jude’s waist, holding him steady as they made their way to the nearest exit. The building groaned under the strain of the storm outside. The horde was still out there, somewhere, and they didn’t have much time.

The sounds of distant moans and dragging footsteps grew louder as they moved down the corridor, but August didn’t dare look back. He had no idea where the nearest exit was, but they had to find it, and fast.

"Stay close," August said, his voice low and steady. "If you can run, do it. We can’t afford to slow down."

Jude nodded, his face pale but resolute. They moved as quickly as they could, dodging debris and dead bodies that littered the halls. The building felt like a maze, the hallways endless, as though the walls themselves were closing in on them.

Suddenly, the system pinged again, and a map materialized in August’s mind, highlighting a staircase leading up to the rooftop.

“That’s our way out,” August said, more to himself than to Jude, and started heading for the stairs. The urgency in his voice was palpable.

Jude didn’t protest. He followed August up the stairs, his steps slower, but determined. Blood dripped from his wound, leaving a trail of crimson that stained the floor. August could feel the tension in his own body, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

They reached the rooftop with no time to spare. The sounds of the zombies grew louder, closer, and August could feel the heat of the hunt rising in his chest. But when they reached the top of the building, they saw something unexpected.

A figure stood near the edge of the rooftop, waving frantically for help. The person was silhouetted against the dark sky, their clothes tattered, their face smeared with dirt and blood. They were in trouble—no doubt about that.

But the question was: should they help?

August’s heart raced. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. They had barely escaped the last encounter, and now they were faced with an unknown. Helping the person could be a trap, a lure to bring them into the open for the zombies. But something about the figure—something in the desperation of their waving hands—made August hesitate.

Jude, weak but alert, followed August’s gaze. His eyes narrowed, a grim expression crossing his face. "What do you think? We can’t just leave them, can we?" he asked, his voice strained.

August paused, his mind racing. The system’s interface flickered, but he couldn’t make a decision based on what it showed him. He didn’t know what this person wanted, what they were capable of. But if they didn’t act fast, they might not get another chance.

"Who are they?" August asked, squinting through the dark at the figure.

The person on the rooftop waved again, shouting something—he couldn’t make out the words, but their voice was desperate, panicked.

"We can’t just leave them," Jude said again, his voice more urgent.

August took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do. The system had given him the tools to survive, but it was his choice, in the end. And he wasn’t going to abandon someone who needed help.

"We go," August said, his voice steady with resolve.

As they started toward the edge of the rooftop, a loud, horrible screech echoed from below. It was a sound that froze August in his tracks. The horde was closing in faster than he thought.

"Quickly," August urged. "Let’s go."

They moved towards the ledge, but just before they reached it, a distant crash sounded from the alleyway below.

A distant figure, silhouetted against the firelit horizon, had just spotted them—and they weren’t alone.