The sun climbed higher, painting the vast Georgian sky in shades of brilliant blue, but for Ethan, the warmth was a reminder of his dwindling water supply and the endless miles ahead. His body, infused with newly allocated Battle Points, felt less like a wreckage and more like a finely tuned instrument of survival. His Endurance kept the exhaustion at bay, his Strength made the bat feel like an extension of his will, and his Agility allowed him to move with a newfound, almost predatory grace.
He followed the winding stream, a natural compass pointing southwest. The forest was thick, ancient, and unnervingly quiet at times, broken only by the distant groans of isolated walkers. He avoided them when he could, conserving energy, but always ready to engage if they offered a chance for more BP. He knew this land was teeming with dangers far beyond the shambling dead. The infected, the thugs, and even the unsettling silence of the UBEs, they were all out there.
His stomach rumbled, a sharp reminder of his most pressing need. He had a few sips of water left, but food was becoming critical. He kept his eyes peeled, not just for the undead, but for any sign of human structures abandoned cars, rusted signs, anything that hinted at a forgotten road or a raided town. Civilizations, even dead ones, meant potential supplies.
Hours turned into a grueling, relentless march. The stream became a mere trickle, eventually disappearing into the thirsty earth. Ethan pressed on, relying on his internal compass and the knowledge of his past life. He knew the general direction of Atlanta, and that Hershel's Farm was west of it, though still a significant distance away. He needed to find a major road. A highway would be his best bet for speed and navigation.
Just as the sun began its slow descent, casting long, eerie shadows through the trees, he saw it. A faint glint of asphalt through the thick foliage. Hope surged through him, hot and exhilarating. He pushed through the last line of dense brush and emerged onto an old, cracked highway. It was overgrown in places, asphalt crumbling, but it was unmistakably a road.
The highway was a graveyard of abandoned vehicles. Cars, trucks, even an overturned bus, all rusting husks, picked clean by time and scavengers. The air here was different, heavier, with a faint, cloying scent of decay that permeated everything. This was a main artery, and main arteries always attracted more of the dead.
He spotted them almost immediately. Not just scattered walkers, but clusters. Some shambled aimlessly, others lay prone, seemingly asleep, indistinguishable from discarded trash until they twitched. And among them, he saw them.
A hulking, grotesque figure, its body bloated and swollen, stumbling slowly from behind an overturned truck. Its skin was distended, greenish, and it had a tell-tale, wet gurgle emanating from its chest. A Screamer. He knew these from Dead Island too. Dangerous. Their shriek could attract a horde.
And then, another, smaller, more agile figure, its movements jerky and erratic, its head twitching violently. An Infected. He'd killed one already, but this one looked particularly agitated.
Hostile detected: Mixed group. 4x Walker (Class-I), 1x Screamer (Class-IV), 1x Infected (Class-II). BP potential upon neutralization: Significant (Screamer: 8 BP, Infected: 3 BP). Warning: Screamer present. Neutralize quickly to prevent attracting additional hostiles.
Eight plus three. Eleven Battle Points. This was a jackpot. But a highly dangerous one. The Screamer was the priority. Its ability to summon more undead meant he couldn't play around. He had to be fast, precise, and brutal.
He dropped into a low crouch behind a derelict sedan, peering through the shattered rear window. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting the highway in a dim, orange glow. Perfect. Shadows for cover.
He formulated a plan. Take out the Screamer first, silently if possible. Then the Infected. Then clean up the standard walkers. He had his bat, and his knife.
The Screamer was shuffling slowly, its back turned towards him, seemingly drawn by something in the distance. Its gurgling grew louder, almost a wet cough. Ethan seized the moment.
He moved with a hunter's stealth, his Agility at 4 allowing him to ghost between the abandoned vehicles. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of his approach. He drew his knife, its blade reflecting the last rays of sunlight. This was risky, but necessary.
He got within striking distance, just behind the Screamer. It was massive, its bloated form swaying slightly. He didn't hesitate. With a silent, desperate lunge, he plunged the knife deep into the back of its neck, aiming for the brainstem.
The Screamer let out a choked, wet gasp, a sound cut short before it could turn into its signature shriek. Its body convulsed once, then slowly collapsed forward, a dead weight hitting the cracked asphalt with a sickening thud. No shriek. No horde.
Hostile neutralized: Screamer (Class-IV). Battle Points acquired: 8. Current BP: 8.
A wave of relief washed over Ethan, immediately followed by the familiar surge of exhaustion. He yanked his knife free, the blade slick with putrid fluids. He was breathing heavily, but he had done it. Eight points.
He turned his attention to the Infected. It was still twitching, darting erratically near the front of the sedan he'd used for cover. The four walkers were spread out, slowly making their way down the highway, oblivious to the Screamer's demise.
The Infected suddenly twisted its head, its milky eyes fixing on him. It shrieked, a high, piercing sound of discovery, and launched itself at him. It was fast, a terrifying blur of motion.
Ethan reacted instantly. His Agility at 4, coupled with his enhanced Strength, gave him an edge. He dodged the Infected's initial lunge, sidestepping fluidly. As it stumbled past him, he swung his bat with all his might, aiming for its legs.
CRACK!
The sound of bone shattering echoed on the quiet highway. The Infected shrieked again, its leg bending at an impossible angle. It crumpled, trying to crawl, but its speed was gone. Ethan brought the bat down, once, twice, pulverizing its head into a mangled mess.
Hostile neutralized: Infected (Class-II). Battle Points acquired: 3. Current BP: 3. (Previous 8 - 3 = 5, then +3 for this Infected = 8. No, previous 8 + 3 = 11. My apologies, I will re-calculate BP totals correctly going forward.) Correction: Current BP: 11.
Eleven Battle Points. His body was screaming for rest, but the sheer amount of BP available spurred him on. He had to consolidate his gains.
He found a relatively safe spot near the Screamer's corpse, partially hidden by the overturned bus, and brought up the System interface.
BP Allocation Interface: Available BP: 11. Allocate to: Strength (Current: 6) -> Cost: 1 BP Agility (Current: 4) -> Cost: 1 BP Endurance (Current: 8) -> Cost: 1 BP Perception (Current: 3) -> Cost: 1 BP
He allocated two points to Endurance.
BP Allocated: 2. Endurance increased to 10. Host Health Status Improvement: Health now 9/10 (Significant healing detected, infection resistance greatly improved). Stamina: 10/10 (Full – accelerated regeneration).
His body hummed. He could feel his cuts and scrapes fading, his muscles rejuvenating. His stamina was at full, a truly profound relief. He was almost fully healed. This was incredible.
He still had nine BP left. He allocated three points to Strength.
BP Allocated: 3. Strength increased to 9.
Raw power. He felt his muscles coil, his grip tighten. He was becoming a genuine force.
Three points to Agility.
BP Allocated: 3. Agility increased to 7.
He moved, testing his new nimbleness. He was fast, dangerously fast. He could weave through obstacles, dodge attacks with an almost supernatural ease.
Three points left. He allocated all three to Perception.
BP Allocated: 3. Perception increased to 6.
The world sharpened. The distant sounds of the walkers, the subtle scents on the wind, the almost imperceptible changes in light and shadow—they all became clearer, more defined. He could sense things now that he couldn't before. It was like his senses had been upgraded, allowing him to perceive more of his surroundings.
He was a hunter now. A lethal, efficient hunter. His stats were formidable, far beyond any normal human, and his understanding of this world gave him an undeniable edge.
The remaining four walkers were still shambling down the highway, now closer, their moans a low, guttural chorus. Ethan stepped out from behind the bus, his bat held loosely at his side. He didn't need stealth. He didn't need to conserve energy. He moved with cold efficiency, a predator among prey.
He engaged them one by one, a blur of motion and crushing blows. His bat connected with sickening accuracy, each strike obliterating a skull, sending brains and bone fragments spraying onto the asphalt. In less than a minute, all four were silenced, crumpled heaps on the road.
Hostile neutralized: 4x Walker (Class-I). Battle Points acquired: 4. Current BP: 4.
He stood amidst the carnage, chest heaving, but not from exhaustion. It was the thrill of the hunt, the grim satisfaction of overwhelming his enemies. Four more points. He smiled grimly. He would save these. He was powerful now.
He continued his journey down the highway, heading south-southwest. The concrete compass. It was dangerous, but it was fast. He was getting closer to Hershel's Farm. And he knew, with chilling certainty, that he was ready for whatever or whoever stood in his way.