Simply manipulating the mana sword had consumed nearly a third of his mana pool. I need to be more careful. Can't waste everything on small fries.
Xavier's thoughts churned as he replayed the fight with the prisoners. Most had been ordinary—weaker than him by every measure. Killing them should have been trivial. Yet here he stood, drained and gasping.
If anyone could hear his thoughts now, they'd stare at him in disbelief. The world was collapsing into nightmare. Living, breathing people were turning into zombies. And yet he stood there calm, analyzing murder like it was routine.
Xavier didn't realize it, but his time in prison had changed him in ways he couldn't yet comprehend. His eyes had grown colder—hardened by something darker than survival.
Around him, the fifth floor stretched silent and empty. He was the only living soul left. Only the groans of half-dead zombies and the soft drip of blood pooling across cracked pavement broke the stillness.
The quiet did nothing to settle his mind. If the system's message was accurate, the entire world had gone to hell. A dark thought flickered at the edge of his awareness—he shook his head sharply before it could take root.
No. I have to get out of here. I need to make sure she's safe.
His only remaining family. Nothing could happen to her. Nothing.
His thoughts surged like lightning. Combined with his muscular frame and the blood still drying on his hands, Xavier radiated a savage aura—one that could make weaker men flinch instinctively.
The zombies attempting to climb the stairwell seemed to sense it. A terrible screech erupted from below—like glass scraping against steel, sharp and hollow.
Xavier's focus snapped toward the sound. His muscles coiled tight, ready. The mana sword in his grip pulsed with faint, hungry light.
Let's get out of this building and find somewhere safe.
Without wasting another breath, he moved.
The D-block floor sat closest to the warden zone—making it the most dangerous section of the entire facility.
Tap. Tap.
No matter how carefully he stepped, his footsteps echoed loudly through the empty corridor.
Six or seven zombies, previously shuffling aimlessly, jerked their heads in unison toward the sound. Their clouded eyes locked onto him, drawn by the scent of life radiating from his body.
Their movements are slow—like broken puppets. I don't need to waste mana on these. My stats should be enough.
He closed the distance cautiously. As he drew near, the zombies' movements turned frantic—jerky and desperate, like starving dogs finally catching the scent of meat. Greenish saliva dripped from their cracked lips.
Xavier's expression soured. A revolting stench assaulted his senses.
Damn. What a disgusting smell. I have to finish this fast.
Though he'd never held a sword before—never even trained with one—he understood the basics: speed and precision. So when he got close enough, he swung without hesitation, trusting the blade's sharpness.
Whoosh!
The sword carved a clean arc through the air. Instantly, the acrid smell of burnt flesh filled the space. Thud. Two cleanly severed halves collapsed onto the ground, steam rising from the cauterized wounds.
The remaining zombies froze, stunned. Xavier's eyes flashed cold. Exploiting their hesitation, he moved with ruthless efficiency—his 18 points in agility allowing him to carve through the rest without fanfare.
In moments, the stairwell was clear.
Good. That was the right call, Xavier muttered, swinging the mana sword experimentally to get a better feel for its weight. This time, he'd used almost no mana at all.
Progress. The more efficient he became in trivial fights, the higher his chances of surviving this nightmare would be.
The only disappointing part? He hadn't leveled up—not even after killing half a dozen zombies. It seemed the so-called soul power they provided diminished as he grew stronger. The experience was there, but minuscule. He'd need to kill at least a hundred more like them before gaining another level.
His eyes narrowed. If I want to keep leveling, I'll have to face stronger enemies.
What a sinister scheme. Thinking back to the first notification and this realization—whatever this so-called Infinite Record was, it clearly wanted to force humanity to grow, no matter the cost.
Though the path downward was open, Xavier didn't rush. As much as he wanted to escape this prison and reach her, he couldn't afford recklessness. Haste would only lead to mistakes. Besides, she wasn't stupid. He was certain she'd survive.
He just had to make sure he didn't die first.
After resting briefly to catch his breath, Xavier rose and began descending toward the fourth floor.
Meanwhile, on the fourth floor, the situation had devolved into something far worse than the carnage above.
Most of the prisoners had turned into zombies. The infected chased after the uninfected, biting and clawing with mindless hunger. A single scratch was all it took for the infection to spread. Meanwhile, mutated rats—creatures that once scurried through the sewers—had swollen to the size of dogs, their eyes glowing with feral intelligence as they hunted down prey.
Though most of the prisoners here were society's worst, even they weren't prepared for this.
A petite-built prisoner stumbled through the chaos, chased by a rat nearly half his size. In seconds, the creature lunged, its fangs tearing into his leg. Blood sprayed across the floor. The man screamed—a raw, guttural sound like a pig being butchered.
"Save me! Please—someone help!"
No one came. The others were too busy fleeing for their own lives.
From inside one of the cells, a group of five watched the horror unfold. Unlike the other prisoners, they were dressed neatly—professional attire marked by blue armbands identifying them as UN personnel.
The group consisted of three women and two men, led by a woman in her thirties.
Finally unable to bear it any longer, one of the younger women—early twenties, blonde hair, green eyes like polished emeralds—turned away and vomited onto the floor.
"What the hell is happening? This has to be a dream," she gasped between breaths.
"Somebody tell me this is a dream!" cried one of the young men in the group—Morgan White, a top-tier university student whose composure had shattered completely.
Aaron frowned. He couldn't believe this was the same prize-winning scholar he'd known. Panicking wouldn't solve anything.
He turned toward the group's leader. "Miss Jackie… what do we do?"
Jackie—a mature woman whose commanding presence and striking figure made her seem almost ethereal—looked at each of them in turn. Her rosy lips parted.
"The situation is real. We have to accept this 'Infinite Record.' If we want to survive… we have to fight."
The four of them nodded slowly, understanding settling in.
"Aaron. Millie." Both straightened at the sound of their names. Jackie's voice carried the weight of military discipline—before joining the UN, she'd served in the army.
"You mentioned something about skills?"
Are the zombies growing stronger too?
Xavier asked the question aloud, his eyes scanning the fourth floor. The situation here was far worse than above. The zombies weren't just more numerous—they were harder to kill. He could feel resistance building each time his blade tore through rotting flesh.
If his suspicion was correct, this was very bad news.
Just as he took another step forward, a shocked, high-pitched voice cut through the chaos.
"A prisoner!"
huh! Xavier slowly turned his head toward the source of the sound only to be surprised, he was no expecting to encounter anyone alive given the situation of the floor, not someone from the UN as well.
Just one look and Xavier also noticed the frozen zombies couple of metres away.
Similar to him, the Jackie group was just as surprised.
it was then the familiar monotonous voice echoed.
[The first phase completed, starting the second phase of evolution.]
[Ranking and Reward system is now live.]
[The top 100,000 would be given access to portable storage treasure called Inventory]