"Hey, don't you think it's a little shady to just snatch the crystal core like that?" A handsome man stepped forward, eyeing Ethan, Chris, and Henry with a mix of irritation and caution.

"Snatch?" Ethan replied coolly. "I killed the zombie. I take the core. What part of that sounds like stealing to you?"

The man frowned, clearly not expecting such a blunt answer. He turned to the tall, Amazonian woman beside him. "He really killed it?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, if he killed it, then I guess taking the core isn't exactly unfair…"

"That was a Tier 3 zombie," the woman said quietly.

"Shit. That changes everything."

The man straightened, suddenly more serious. He looked back at Ethan. "Look, no matter how you spin it, you wouldn't have been able to take that thing down without us holding off the rest of the horde. And Vivian here—she did a lot of the heavy lifting too. So no way you're walking off with that core like it's all yours."

Ethan shook his head. "Honestly? Without you guys, we probably would've finished the fight faster."

"..."

"Bullshit!" another man from their group snapped. "Vivian, why are you even talking to them? Just take it!"

Vivian's brow furrowed. She glanced at Ethan, her voice calm but firm. "That core means a lot to us. How about this—you keep all the others on the ground. I just want that one. Fair?"

Ethan's tone didn't change. "Not interested. I've got principles. I only take what I kill. The rest? Yours."

"Tell your people to move," Vivian said, her voice sharpening. "Don't make me force it."

"Jesus, who the hell do you think you are?" the angry man barked. "There's only three of you!"

"Enough!" Vivian snapped, silencing him. She turned back to Ethan. "What would it take for you to give me that core?"

Ethan's eyes cooled. "Nothing. You're not getting it. Of course, you're welcome to try and take it by force—just be ready to deal with the consequences."

Vivian stared at him for a long moment. Then she exhaled, tension bleeding from her shoulders. "Step aside," she said to her team.

"Vivian!"

"I said move!"

Her voice cracked like a whip. The others hesitated, then grudgingly cleared a path.

Ethan gave a faint smile, then turned and walked off with Chris and Henry, leaving the group behind in silence.

"Vivian, why'd you let them go?" the handsome man asked, frustration etched across his face. "That was a Tier 3 crystal core. If you reached Tier 3, our chances of survival would skyrocket!"

"You think I didn't want it?" Vivian said, exasperated. "But if it came to a fight, we might not win."

"Come on, there's only three of them! We've got eighty people!"

Vivian's expression darkened. "That guy in front? He's at least Tier 3. Even if I fought him myself, I'd have less than a ten percent chance of winning."

"No way! You must've misjudged. How could someone already be Tier 3 this early?"

"I didn't misjudge," she said, voice low and certain. "He crushed a Tier 3 zombie's skull with one swing. I couldn't do that even at full strength. And he didn't even look like he was trying. That man is at least Tier 3."

The man fell silent, stunned.

"There's only three of them," Vivian continued. "If he's that strong, do you really think the other two are weak?"

The man opened his mouth, then closed it again. He couldn't argue.

Vivian was an Awakened with strength amplification—she'd been able to take down Tier 1 zombies even before evolving. And yet, that man had made her look like she was standing still.

It didn't make sense. But it was real.

Vivian watched the trio's retreating backs, her eyes narrowing. Under her breath, she muttered, "We'll meet again. And when we do… you'll pay for this."

But before the words had even left her lips, the three suddenly spun around and came sprinting back toward them—fast.

"???"

Everyone stared, stunned.

"Get the people inside the main dining hall to open the door! The zombies are back!" Ethan shouted as he ran.

"!!!"

The moment his words hit, panic exploded through the group. A second later, they saw it—an enormous swarm of zombies flooding in behind Ethan's team, a black tide of death barreling straight toward them.

"Holy shit!"

Faces drained of color. The group bolted for the side entrance of the main dining hall, pounding on the door with frantic fists.

"Open up! Open the damn door!"

Inside the dining hall...

The people huddled within had long since sunk into despair. But the sound of knocking—real, human knocking—snapped them out of it. Faces lit up with hope. Someone rushed toward the door.

"Don't you fucking open that door!" a man barked, stepping forward with a chef's knife in hand. "Anyone touches that handle, I'll cut your goddamn hand off!"

The would-be rescuer froze. Around him, others who'd started to rise slowly sank back to the floor, heads down.

The dining hall had changed—radically.

What had started as a scramble for food had spiraled into full-blown chaos. Before the zombies ever breached the building, the people inside had already torn themselves apart.

Campus police had tried to restore order, but a few students—ones who'd been biding their time—ambushed them from behind, stole their weapons, and turned the tide.

Gunfire rang out. The riot ended, but the cost was staggering: dozens dead, hundreds injured.

In the aftermath, the most violent students—the ones who'd always been itching for a fight—banded together and seized control. Some had brought weapons from the start. Others raided the kitchen for knives. After hacking down dozens of people, including the campus police, they'd cowed the rest into submission.

They took over the kitchen and gorged themselves.

At first, they didn't plan to share. But fearing a full-blown revolt, they let the head of dining services keep ladling out watery soup to the rest.

Anyone who complained got beaten. Some had their limbs hacked off as a warning.

Eventually, the survivors stopped complaining. After all, they'd been eating watery soup before. Nothing had changed—except now, they knew better than to speak up.

But silence only emboldened the new rulers. They grew more brazen by the day. If someone looked at them wrong, they'd beat them bloody. Teachers who'd once scolded them were dragged out and pummeled.

Then they started targeting the girls.

The Dean of Students tried to intervene. They beat him half to death. Right in front of him, they dragged away the girl he'd tried to protect, pulling her into a back room. No one needed to guess what happened next.

The Dean screamed for help. No one moved. Heads bowed. Eyes averted.

His heart gave out. He collapsed on the floor and never got back up.

After that, the monsters inside shed the last of their restraints. Whatever darkness had been festering in them now ran wild.

Girls were dragged into the kitchen and raped. No one dared stop it.

Those who tried were either killed or crippled. Eventually, no one tried anymore. Everyone chose survival over justice.

They all thought they'd have to wait for rescue to escape this hell.

But now—someone was knocking.

Someone was alive out there.

Maybe the zombies were gone.

Hope flared in their chests.

But then they saw the eyes of the men guarding the door—cold, vicious, daring anyone to move.

And just like that, the hope died.

No one opened the door.

...

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