I'd always believed I was better off without my vision.
Call it pride. Or stubbornness. Or a coping mechanism. Whatever. The thought was still the same.
I didn't ask to be born without my sight. Yet I was ostracized for it. Belittled. Even worse—pitied. By the most pathetic set of people. The ones who felt better about themselves by dismissing me. They used me as some sorry reference to feel grateful for their sorry lives.
"My life's shitty, but at least I'm not blind like Donny."
It was always one dry joke or another. They never seemed to get enough of tormenting me.
I was always the scapegoat.
"Hey, isn't his dad, like, stupid rich? Why haven't they fixed his eyes yet? Must be a skill issue."
Only, my parents had tried everything to make me… 'normal.'
They tried every doctor. Every prescription. Even traditional herbs. They'd even paid ridiculous amounts to get countless surgeries done on my eyes. All of which were useless.
It seemed like I was cursed because no matter what new solution they pulled out from some magic doctor's pamphlet or those big-talk, 'miracle' tabs on the dark web—it ended up nowhere.
They did their best for years. They really did. Then they stopped. I didn't blame them. I'd become a liability. Their very own cankerworm. I was well aware of that, so I did my best to exist without being a complete burden to them.
Growing up in a world that wasn't meant for blind people… ironically opened my eyes to realize something:
Seers—those born with vision—were trash. At least a huge number of them were.
They walked around like the world was theirs to own. But most of them couldn't see anything beyond their own arrogance. It wasn't sight they had. It was delusion.
You'd be lucky to find one that wasn't morally gray. And the others that came off as pure and righteous? They were just really good at pretending.
I was glad I couldn't see their faces.
Being blind was actually good for one thing.
Let me just be honest. I prayed daily for their downfalls. I prayed that something would happen. Anything. Something that would submerge their world in darkness and despair just like mine.
Life was so unfair.
I wanted them to feel it too.
To walk a day in my shoes. To know what it felt like to have their lights out at every time of the day.
But I didn't expect the world would actually crumble.
The sirens had started subtly at first, a distant wail that most probably ignored, too caught up in their oh-so-important lives.
Since growing up, I'd learned to differentiate the sounds of the city, the rhythm of its breathing. My eyes were for decoration, true, but my ears made up for it twice over. I could immediately tell that these new sounds were out of place. They were eerie and persistent.
But they only grew louder, more frantic, until they became a powerful shriek that vibrated through the very ground I stood on in my small, cluttered apartment.
Then came the screams.
Not the usual drunken brawls from down the street. These were raw, primal cries of terror that sent a cold dread coiling in my gut.
Even without sight, I could feel the shift in the atmosphere—a palpable sense of panic seeping through the walls.
My parents, who still checked in on me occasionally out of obligation more than affection, hadn't called. That in itself was a bad sign. Something was definitely happening out there.
The sounds outside intensified. Soon, all I could hear were sickening crunching sounds, followed by more screams—abruptly cut short.
It painted a gruesome picture in my mind, far more vivid than any visual I'd ever conjured. Whatever was happening wasn't normal. It wasn't an accident.
It felt… hungry.
Days blurred into a terrifying sequence of muffled chaos. The building I was in became a tomb, the silence punctuated by the distant moans and shuffling that sent shivers down my spine.
Food ran out quickly. Water became a precious memory. Loneliness, my constant companion, now felt heavier, laced with a gnawing fear. I was utterly helpless, trapped in my darkness while the world outside descended into something unimaginable.
Then, the end came for me too.
I remember the door splintering open, the rough hands grabbing me. The stench of decay, thick and cloying, filled my nostrils. A guttural growl inches from my face. Pure, unadulterated terror.
There was no escape.
Just the tearing, the pain… and then, nothing.
Darkness. The familiar, eternal darkness. I'd expected it to be the final curtain. The end of a miserable existence.
But then… there was something else.
Not light. Not in the way they described it. But a… feeling. A warmth spreading through me, chasing away the cold emptiness. A sense of… awareness unlike anything I'd ever known.
It was like a thousand tiny threads connecting within me, mapping out the space around me in microscopic detail. I could sense the rough texture of the floor beneath me, the stagnant air, the faint vibrations in the wall.
Then, a voice. Not spoken aloud, but directly in my mind.
[ ! ] Congratulations, Chosen. You have been granted the Zombie Apocalyptic System.
Confusion warred with a burgeoning sense of… something. Hope? No, not quite. More like… possibility.
[ ! ] Scanning… Host identified: Donny Byrd. Status: Deceased. Commencing Resurrection.
Before I could make any sense of what was happening, a jolt coursed through me, a strange energy infusing my being. The pain from before was gone, replaced by a tingling sensation.
My limbs felt… lighter.
When I 'awoke' again, it wasn't to the same darkness. It was… different. I still couldn't see with my eyes, but the world around me was no longer empty.
It was a halo of sensations, of echoes and vibrations that painted a picture more detailed than any I could have imagined.
I couldn't tell where I was exactly. But the air smelled familiar. My apartment. I wondered how long I'd been out as I flexed my fingers. They responded like always. Did that mean I was actually back?
Suddenly, a shuffling sound came from my left. A couple meters away. Dangerously close.
[ ! ] Alert: Hostile entity detected nearby.
The voice pinged in my head like a phone notification.
"The hell?" I muttered.
This was new. Not that anything could top the absurdity of dying—horribly, might I add—and coming back to life. No, that one was in a league of its own.
It was all incredibly overwhelming. But I didn't have any time to wallow. The thing that was fast approaching confirmed it.
Fear, primal and sharp, tried to grip me—rightfully so. I was ripped apart and feasted on by whatever creature that was.
I could still remember the pain in mind-numbing detail. Chunks of my flesh being torn away from the bones. The incessant squishing, gurgling sounds. My screams melting into the apartment walls. The puddle of blood soaking through my clothes…
The foul stench.
I couldn't even defend myself.
I was weak. An easy meal.
But now?
Now, something had sparked to life within me. A cold, vengeful resolve. I was still blind, yes. But I wasn't helpless anymore. And I wasn't about to let myself become this freakshow's appetizer for a second time.
[ ! ] Would you like to access your Status?
'Status?'
I had no idea what that meant. But the insistent mental prompt felt… important.
Instinctively, I thought, 'Yes.'
And then a scroll's worth of data rushed through my mind, disorienting me for a second.
—
Status: Updated just now…
⪻ Name ⪼ Donny Byrd
⪻ Level ⪼ 1
⪻ Class ⪼ ??? (Locked)
⪻ Strength ⪼ 5
⪻ Agility ⪼ 7
⪻ Vitality ⪼ 10
⪻ Sense ⪼ ∞
⪻ Skills ⪼ N/A
⪻ Unique Trait ⪼ [ True Echo: The blind can still see. All vibrations and air shifts within a 30-meter radius are mapped in real-time. ]
—
My mind reeled. What were these values? What was 'Sense: ∞'? And that trait—True Echo?
The shuffling sound was closer now. I could sense its presence. The halo of a hulking, uneven mass moving toward me. The stench was stronger here.
Undead.
That's what they were calling them in the fragmented news reports I'd overheard before everything went to hell.
Zombies.
Again, panic threatened to overwhelm me, but the mental screen—this Status—anchored me.
It was something tangible in this nightmare.
The shuffling stopped right in front of me. I could feel its heat, its ragged breathing. I had no eyes to see it, but in my mind, I had a crude map of its form.
[ ! ] Alert: A hostile entity is within striking range.
Another mental prompt. This System… It was warning me.
I felt a bead of sweat slide down my neck. My body quivered slightly. I didn't know what to do. I was livid—yes. Vengeful—even more. But I was still face to face with a man-eating zombie, completely defenseless and unarmed.
This System thing... how was it going to help me live to see another day and not become past tense right then and there?
I thought about those values that had just flashed through my mind. The 'Sense' stat: Infinity. What did that even mean?
I quickly focused, somehow trying to understand and access it. I had no idea what I was doing, but judging from how the zombie was sniffing me and the saliva dripping on my shoes, I had no other choice.
It was like feeling the air expand and contract, the subtle shifts in pressure. The undead in front of me wasn't just a smell or a sound; it was a dense knot of wrongness in the world around me.
And then, another mental notification.
[ ! ] You have an unallocated Stat Point.
Unallocated Stat Point? What could I even do with that? Strength? Agility?
My hand clenched into a fist. I couldn't see it, but I could feel the tension in my muscles.
As if it could recognize my intention, the zombie lunged clumsily, its gurgling noises filling the space before me. I could feel the shift in the air, the sudden movement. Instinct took over. I didn't know how, but I knew where it was going to be.
I swung. Blindly. Desperately.
There was a wet crunch, followed by a sickening thud as the creature crumpled to the ground. It felt like my fist had sunk into something cold and pudgy. A splatter of wetness got all over me—some of it landed on the edge of my lip, and I had to swallow the urge to vomit.
Then the wrongness beneath me faltered, its presence flickering. After a few beats, it vanished completely.
I'd killed it.
With my bare hands.
[ ! ] You have slain a Level 1 Sprinter. Body count: 1
[ ! ] +50 EXP gained.
[ ♡ ] Congrats! Level Up!
The rush hit me like static across my skin—warmth pulsing through my veins, sharp and sudden.
The System kept yapping away, but I was too out of it to listen. My legs buckled beneath me, and I slumped onto the cold ground, surrounded by the stench of zombie guts.
I didn't care.
My mind buzzed as I struggled to catch my breath. The notifications continued flooding my thoughts:
[ ! ] Strength Stat Points +5
[ ! ] New Skill Unlocked: Echo Pulse
[ ✶ ] Echo Pulse: Releases a sonic burst in all directions, mapping enemies and terrain within a 50-meter radius. Can briefly stun low-level undead. MP Cost: 10. Cooldown: 30 seconds.
I didn't know what any of this meant yet. But as I lay there, in a room soaked in silence and something else's blood, one realization struck me—terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
The world had gone to hell.
And for the first time in my life—
It looked like I wasn't the victim.