The stench of blood and rotten flesh floated in the air.
The city had died only three days ago.
The streets, once filled with noise and traffic, were now a graveyard of overturned cars, shattered glass, and bloated corpses under the sun, rotting as if waiting to be buried in holy ground. Nobody spoke. Nobody breathed. Only the sound of dragging footsteps and the crack of bones when they approached.
Caleb never thought the end of the world would sound so… wet.
And he never imagined it would come so soon.
The gurgling of torn throats.
The snapping of hungry jaws.
The echo of a lament that no longer belonged to any human.
He tightened his grip on the bloodstained baseball bat, the only weapon he had managed to find when the attack began. His hands trembled, but he couldn't let go. Not now. Not when every corner could be his last.
A roar shook him from the alley on the left.
It wasn't a human roar.
"Shit…" he whispered, stepping back, hoping that maybe it would help him survive.
Out of the shadows did not come a common zombie.
It was taller, with torn flesh exposing twisted muscles that still pulsed as if alive. Its eyes, milky yet shining, fixed on him with a cold intelligence.
It wasn't just another corpse.
It was something new. Something worse.
The monster opened its mouth and released a shriek that shattered the silence into a thousand pieces.
Windows rattled. The nearby corpses stirred, turning their heads toward Caleb.
And suddenly, he understood:
He wasn't facing just any zombie.
He was facing the first of the Alphas.
And it had found him.
Though in shock, Caleb had no choice but to prepare, and when he was ready, he ran endlessly. But the Alpha zombie seemed unwilling to let him go.
Caleb would be its prey that night.
Caleb would make it stronger, allowing its horde of zombies to grow even more.
If Caleb didn't give up, if he managed to find more survivors, and somehow discovered the right way to wipe out the plague, maybe humanity would get a second chance at salvation.
But Caleb was exhausted. He no longer felt the same energy he once had when he was the quarterback of his college football team, before everything went to hell with the invasion.
Caleb had begun to weaken. His running was not the same as before, he was no longer the fastest on his team, and worse, his body was deteriorating because his diet was poor. He ate whatever he could find on the streets, in the trash. By some miracle, he had avoided illness or poisoning from the things he consumed.
His ragged breathing grew louder.
His heart began to ache, and his chest tightened.
For a moment, Caleb felt everything around him spin, and he had to slow down his frantic pace.
Little by little, his eyes began to close, and then his body collapsed onto the ground.
The milky eyes of the Alpha zombie were his last memory before he drifted into darkness.
It was at that moment that a metallic beep pierced his mind as the world turned black.
[Defense Evolution System Initiated]
User Status: Physical collapse (critical).
Potential detected: 42%.
Forced evolution will begin.
Instinctive Mission #1:
—Survive the Alpha.
Time limit: 300 seconds.
Reward: Activation of "Quarterback's Endurance I."
It was difficult for Caleb to open his eyes right away.
Sweat burned his forehead, but something had changed in his body, and Caleb noticed it despite his condition.
His heart pounded like a war drum.
His muscles, once weak, were now filled with energy.
The system echoed in his head with a phrase he would never forget:
[Run, or die.]
Without thinking, Caleb got up and started running as fast as he could.
In fact, Caleb noticed he was running much faster than before, even faster than when he trained or played games.
For a moment, Caleb felt like he was the Flash, the fastest superhero of them all.
The adrenaline was so intense that Caleb didn't stop. He kept running until his body nearly gave out, but he needed to put distance between himself and the Alpha zombie before it was too late.
Caleb ran and ran until he reached the peak of a mountain on the outskirts of the city. Once there, he turned back. Nothing was behind him, chasing him like before. It seemed he was finally safe.
Tired, his energy nearly drained to zero, he sat on the ground, feeling the softness of green grass that still thrived in that place.
As he sat, contemplating the desolate yet strangely beautiful view of the ruined city, enjoying the silence and the cool breeze against his skin, Caleb heard a sound.
He listened carefully—shuffling footsteps coming toward him.
Caleb tensed.
But again, even as he rested, he felt his strength slipping away. It was as if, in an instant, someone—or something—was draining the energy he had just regained.
Before his body collapsed again, Caleb looked forward and saw a man approaching. He wore a very old but well-preserved robe. The man was huge, tall enough to make Caleb feel small beside him.
Yet before Caleb could make out more details of the man's appearance, his eyes closed, and darkness swallowed him once again.
Three days later, Caleb awoke.
His body ached, as if a heavy truck had run over him but somehow hadn't killed him.
"Mm? Where the hell am I?" Caleb groaned, struggling to open his eyes quickly to see more clearly and understand where he had woken up.
The mattress beneath him was hard, but that didn't matter. Caleb had slept there for three days, and his body didn't feel as heavy. In fact, he had rested more than he ever could on the cold, hard streets of the city, hiding in makeshift shelters while escaping the zombies that never stopped chasing him, even during the day.
The delicious smell of freshly baked bread and hot chocolate interrupted his thoughts and curiosity.
He hadn't eaten anything remotely edible or healthy in days—nothing that didn't come from the trash—so he couldn't ignore the aroma.
The whistling of a man humming a tune, one Caleb didn't recognize, also caught his attention. It came from very close by—the kitchen. The house wasn't very big, just enough for two people at most.
Caleb managed to stand, though his legs trembled like jelly from being still for so long, and he walked toward the figure of the same man he had seen three days earlier.
This time, he saw him more clearly.
He was a man of about seventy, yet he still looked remarkably young. He had a fit body, as if he had trained for years. His robe was old but clean and still served well to cover him.
Without Caleb saying anything, the man stopped kneading the dough beneath his hands and turned to look at him. Seeing him awake, he smiled warmly, as though genuinely glad that Caleb had finally recovered.
"Caleb. My son, you've finally awakened. How do you feel?" the man said with a deep voice. But his gaze was calming and inspiring, even though he was a stranger.
"My son? What does he mean by that? Is this guy insane? Did he kidnap me? But for what purpose?" Caleb thought, uneasy.
"Yes, apparently I'm fine. Thank you very much," Caleb replied, still feeling strange about the situation.
But the smell of warm bread distracted him from his suspicions, and the growl of his stomach drove him nearly mad.
It was loud enough that the man heard it and understood.
"I'm sorry, you must be starving. At times like these, it's hard to find good food. But don't worry, I baked some bread. It's delicious. There are several over there, help yourself without hesitation," the man said kindly, gesturing toward the kitchen table.
On it, fresh bread was laid out, still hot from the oven. Without a second thought, Caleb grabbed one and ate it desperately, as if he hadn't eaten in years, like a prisoner suddenly freed.
The man watched Caleb with hopeful eyes, feeling as though the boy was truly the grandson who had been taken from his family when he was just a baby.
"Could it be him?" the man wondered while watching the boy devour the bread.
Without a word, he served a cup of hot chocolate and offered it to Caleb, who gratefully accepted it. The rich drink felt like the perfect remedy to restore his energy.
When the meal was finished, Caleb felt satisfied and in better spirits, ready to speak with the kind man who had saved his life.
"Thank you very much for the food. It was really delicious. But… how did you manage to get such good-quality food in these times of scarcity?" Caleb asked curiously.
The man continued sipping from his wooden cup of chocolate.
"I'm a farmer. That's how I lived before the pandemic, and I know how to grow certain crops that thrive well in this climate. So I can grow food that helps me survive in these times of scarcity without needing to go out and search," he answered calmly.
Caleb nodded, though his stomach hurt a little after eating so much.
"Can you tell me how you survived the zombies? How come they don't come near this place?" Caleb asked again after a moment, his curiosity stronger now, since it seemed true that the zombies didn't come this far.
After thinking for a few seconds that felt like an eternity for Caleb's curiosity, the man finally answered:
"They cannot cross this land because it is not profane ground. The corruption of the dead cannot withstand the ancient fire that still burns here. That fire, boy, is magic… and you have it too. In fact, it was that spark that saved you from dying when you collapsed."