Inside the dorm, the situation wasn't exactly safe—but it was better than outside. There were still zombies roaming the halls, but far fewer. The trio cut through the stragglers with grim efficiency, clearing a path to the stairwell. Without stopping, they charged upward, boots thudding against the concrete steps, until they reached the fourth floor.

That's when Ethan finally collapsed.

He dropped to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, chest heaving, blood soaking through his shredded clothes.

"Henry, get him into a room—now! I'll hold the stairs," Chris barked, already turning to face the stairwell.

"Got it."

Henry slipped under Ethan's arm and half-dragged, half-carried him into the nearest dorm room. Once inside, he eased him down onto the floor and took a sharp breath.

Ethan was a mess.

There were gashes everywhere—arms, legs, chest—but the worst was on his shoulder. A massive bite mark, deep and ragged, where a chunk of flesh had been torn clean out. Just a few inches higher and it would've been his neck.

Henry didn't hesitate. He pressed his hands to the wound, and a soft white glow bloomed beneath his palms. The torn muscle and skin began knitting back together, the bleeding slowing, then stopping entirely.

Tier 2 had clearly leveled up Henry's healing ability. The wound closed faster than it ever had before.

Once the shoulder was sealed, he moved on to the other bites. The claw marks were bad, but the bites were worse—each one a crater of missing flesh, blood still oozing. If they weren't treated fast, infection—or worse—was guaranteed.

Ethan had held it together through sheer willpower, jaw clenched so tight his teeth might crack. He hadn't passed out, but he was close.

If Henry hadn't been there, he'd be dead already. No question.

Meanwhile, downstairs, the iron door didn't last long.

With a deafening crash, it gave way, and the horde poured in like a flood.

Chris stood at the top of the stairwell, barbell bar in hand, eyes locked on the first wave. He looked like a man ready to take on the world—or die trying.

The first zombie reached the fourth floor landing. Chris didn't hesitate. He brought the bar down in a brutal arc, caving in its skull with a wet crunch. Then he kicked the body back down the stairs, sending it tumbling into the crowd below and knocking several others off balance.

The stairwell gave him the high ground, and that was everything. In a narrow space like this, numbers didn't matter as much. As long as he could keep swinging, he could hold them.

But he was hurting.

His arms were trembling, muscles screaming with every swing. The 40-pound barbell bar felt like it weighed a hundred now. His hands were slick with sweat and blood, and every movement sent pain lancing through his shoulders.

Still, he didn't stop.

He couldn't.

Ethan was bleeding out in the next room. Henry was focused on healing. If Chris fell, they were all dead.

So he gritted his teeth and kept swinging.

The bodies piled up on the stairs, slowing the next wave. For a moment, it looked like the tide was turning.

But then the Tier 1s started climbing the railings.

Smarter, faster, more aggressive—they weren't just charging up the middle. They were scaling the sides, clawing their way up like spiders.

Chris's eyes narrowed. "You've gotta be kidding me."

He shifted his stance, adjusting for the new angles, and kept fighting.

The pressure didn't let up. But neither did he.

Inside the dorm.

Most of Ethan's bite wounds had been healed, but Henry was completely spent—pale, drenched in sweat, barely able to sit upright.

Ethan didn't rest. As soon as he could move, he forced himself to his feet and staggered back into the stairwell.

There, he found Chris still holding the line alone, barely upright, barbell bar gripped in trembling hands.

Ethan grabbed his own weapon and stepped forward. "Chris, switch out. Go rest."

Chris turned, eyes wide. "Ethan—you're up?!"

"Yeah. With Henry around, I'm not dying that easy."

"You're still in rough shape. Go lie down. I've got this."

"No. You're running on fumes. Go."

Chris didn't argue. He gave a tired nod and limped back toward the dorm room, every step heavy with exhaustion.

Ethan took his place at the top of the stairs and resumed the fight. With his strength, the remaining zombies didn't stand a chance.

Before long, the stairwell was completely clogged with corpses—so many that the undead below couldn't push through anymore.

Finally, when no more zombies came up, Ethan dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, chest heaving.

This had been, without a doubt, their hardest fight yet.

Harder than the time they'd gone down to rescue Henry. This time, even Ethan had nearly died.

He dragged himself back to the dorm room, where Henry was still tending to Chris's wounds.

But Henry was running on empty. After healing Ethan, he could barely keep his hands steady. Every time he patched up one of Chris's injuries, he had to pause and catch his breath.

"Ethan, you good?" Chris asked, glancing up.

"Yeah. Stairwell's sealed. They're not getting through anytime soon. But that also means we're stuck up here for a while."

"No big deal," Chris said with a tired grin. "We're alive. That's what matters."

"Barely," Henry muttered with a weak smile. "I really thought we were done for."

Chris let out a low whistle. "Honestly, if Pumpkin hadn't jumped in at the end and pulled those zombies off us, we'd be toast."

"Yeah," Ethan agreed. "Where is Pumpkin, anyway?"

They all looked around.

The orange cat was nowhere in sight.

"Shit… you don't think something happened to it?" Chris said, worry creeping into his voice.

A few hours ago, they wouldn't have cared. If Pumpkin was useful, great. If not, they'd have ditched it without a second thought.

But now? That little beast had saved their lives.

"Meow…"

A faint, ragged cry echoed from the hallway.

Moments later, Pumpkin stumbled into the room, its massive orange body swaying with each step.

"Pumpkin!"

All three of them lit up.

But their joy quickly turned to horror.

Pumpkin was covered in blood—its own. Deep gashes ran across its back and sides, fur matted and torn. It looked like it had been through a meat grinder.

"Henry, quick—heal it!" Ethan said, rushing over.

"On it."

Henry pressed his hands to Pumpkin's side, and the familiar white glow flared to life. Slowly, the worst of the wounds began to close.

Ethan pulled a crystal core from his pocket and held it out. "Here, buddy. Eat this."

Pumpkin sniffed it, then chomped it down without hesitation.

Unlike humans, mutant beasts like Pumpkin could still absorb energy from lower-tier crystal cores even after leveling up. It wouldn't make them stronger, but it helped replenish stamina and heal faster. Pumpkin loved the stuff.

"Damn," Chris muttered, watching the cat. "I knew it was fast, but I didn't think it'd take that kind of beating."

"Jumping across zombie heads is like dancing on a tightrope," Ethan said. "With that many hands grabbing at it, it's a miracle it didn't get torn apart."

"No kidding."

After a few minutes, Henry had patched up most of Pumpkin's wounds. Only then did he finally turn his healing on himself.

He didn't get far.

As soon as the last of his injuries closed, he collapsed face-first onto the bed and passed out cold.

Chris looked over at him and let out a long breath. "Thank God for Henry."

"Yeah," Ethan said, sitting down beside him. "Without him, we'd be dead ten times over."

"This damn apocalypse," Chris muttered. "It's trying real hard to finish us off."

Then his stomach growled.

"Shit. Ethan—we didn't bring any supplies. No food, no water. We're screwed for the night."

Ethan's face darkened. He'd forgotten too.

They'd left everything behind in their dorm. Backpacks, rations, gear. They hadn't expected to get trapped.

Now, with over a thousand zombies swarming below, going back was out of the question.

"Great," Chris sighed. "Tier 2 and still starving like freshmen during finals week."

Ethan stood up. "Alright. You stay here and watch over Henry. I'll sweep the other dorm rooms. Maybe we'll get lucky and find something."

Chris nodded. "Be careful."

Ethan grabbed his barbell bar and stepped out into the hallway, eyes sharp.

Time to scavenge.

...

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