"Kill!"
Aiden's vision rimmed scarlet. His heart hammered so hard it felt ready to burst; his whole body flushed the color of a boiled lobster.
Something inside him—some locked bar—snapped open.
Like a key raking an old, hidden lock.
In the same instant—
pain screamed from marrow to skin, like a thousand needles gnawing the bone sheath.
Then heat, scalding and tidal, surged up his spine and into his skull.
His blood roared faster; the only sound left was his own war-drum heartbeat, each thud rattling his teeth.
His pupils knifed down. Strength spiked and kept spiking.
Under his skin, muscle fibers crackled and popped.
The next second—
he snatched up a dropped fire axe, blurred forward, and knifed across the Boomer's bile stream.
"Found you."
Eagle-hard eyes cut the horde.
With Blade Intent blazing, he picked out the Boomer trying to hide in the crowd.
Whick!
He put his whole body into the throw. The axe ripped the air and buried in the swollen mass.
Splutch—
Corrosive filth geysered. A trench opened across its torso; organs slid out with bile in a glistening rope.
The Boomer shrieked, lurched to spew—Aiden slid past, and the kukri came down.
A clean chop—throat parted.
[Player "Aiden" felled Special Infected — Boomer. +800 points!]
"Drive the damn bus!"
He vaulted into the stairwell, booted a fresh ghoul back out the door, and barked at Hayato.
Hayato was already in the seat, hands shaking as he jammed the key. The engine caught with a snarl.
The bus lunged, bowling zombies aside. Tires crunched wetly; nerves crawled.
They burst from the lot—
and the Charger came in the mirrors again.
Relentless. It plowed after them, rammed the rear corner hard enough to tilt the bus, claws screeching gouges in the steel.
Hayato white-knuckled the wheel, throttled as far as the bus would give. He stole a few car lengths—but the thing kept gaining. There was no outrunning this forever.
While the flow still sang in his veins—
Aiden popped a window, hauled himself to the roof, and shouldered the launcher.
THOOMP—
The 40mm streaked a burning tail and met the Charger center mass.
WHUUM—!!
Fire and pressure swallowed that mountain of meat.
The body blew apart in four, raining purple gore and bone.
[Player "Aiden" felled Special Infected — Charger. +1000 points!]
The last of the specials went down.
"—Tch."
Only when the bus surged clear did Aiden slump against the hatch, lungs clawing at air.
Then the backlash hit.
He dropped into a seat, staring at the campus caving away behind them—ruins, smoke, and the copper rot of the air.
Only ragged breathing filled the cabin, and Kakeru's unconscious groans.
Every slip, every swing in that fight had been machine-precise, nothing wasted.
All of it, riding that mysterious state—
[Stage-1 Extreme • Flow（1/20）]
In the Death Game's terms, when a human breaks their ceiling, they step into the Extreme.
Shoved to the edge of death and fear, the ones with iron will can blow open latent potential.
That's Stage One.
But almost everyone who opens it pays a butcher's bill.
After the rush, the body collapses—organs falter, systems crash. Most who touch Stage One die from the side effects.
Only by opening it again and again, letting the body adapt, do the aftershocks fade.
Aiden had triggered it when the tide threatened to swallow him.
For a heartbeat he fought at several times human baseline.
The price scared him.
Heat spiked him toward boiling; that was not a human temperature.
His organs buckled the second he crossed that line.
Without his "cheat," he'd have been a corpse.
Ninety percent fatality. Yeah—terrifying.
But with the panel guiding him, he'd ducked death. Open it enough, master the form—then own it.
…
Time slid.
At some point the exhaustion ate him whole; Aiden fell asleep.
Vrrrr…
The engine's low hum threaded into his ears and pulled him back up.
He blinked, and pain moved in—muscle-sore, head thick, a hunger like ten days fasted.
Outside, the bus rolled steady along a wintering road.
The light was dim but not yet night. Snow had begun in earnest; the verges were already white-lipped, flakes pouring down like they'd never stop, frosting a hollow city with cold silence.
Warmth leaked from the vents—Hayato had kicked on the heat.
"You're awake?"
The cool voice at his ear.
Aiden turned; Yukino's face hovered there, worry tucked behind the calm.
"How long was I out?" He took the bottle she offered and chugged until the ache in his throat eased.
"Two hours and twelve minutes," Yukino said.
"That long…?"
He exhaled.
Stage One wrings you dry.
His stomach clawed him again. He felt like he could eat a whole cow.
(End of Chapter)
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