As soon as the mutated zombie hit the ground, Ethan didn't waste a second—he kicked the next one behind it straight off the bridge, then grabbed the corpse and dragged it over. No way was he going to dig through a pile of bodies later just to find it.

Half an hour later, the last of the undead were down. The bridge and the banks below were littered with corpses, and the lake water had turned a sickly red from all the blood.

The three of them collapsed where they stood, dropping to the stone like sacks of bricks. They were completely spent.

It took a long moment before Ethan finally pushed himself upright. He walked over to the mutated zombie's body and, with practiced ease, dug the crystal out of its skull.

Before he could say a word, Chris cut in. "Don't even ask. Just eat it. Let's see if it lights up the second point on your first star."

"Yeah, I've been wondering about that too," Henry added.

Ethan nodded. No hesitation. He popped the crystal into his mouth and swallowed it down.

A few minutes passed. Then Ethan frowned.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked. "Didn't light up?"

"Nope." Ethan shook his head.

"Any power boost at all?"

"Yeah, but… honestly, it's even less than the last one." Ethan sounded more annoyed than disappointed.

"Eh, whatever. As long as it's still doing something," Chris said with a shrug. "Worst case, we just keep feeding you crystals until it works."

"Right."

They rested a little longer, then finally got to their feet and started heading back toward the dorms. The sky had already darkened—no way they were getting any more fighting done tonight.

But as they reached their building, they were met with an unexpected sight.

A group of people stood gathered at the dorm entrance, faces grim, clearly just returned themselves.

The moment Ethan and the others appeared, the group turned to look. Recognition flickered in their eyes.

Sean and his crew spotted Ethan and immediately gave him a look—somewhere between exhausted and resentful.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You guys came back?"

Sean let out a bitter laugh. "Man, don't even get me started." He launched into a quick rundown of what had happened.

"Main dining hall's completely swarmed. No way in. We had no choice but to come back," he finished with a sigh.

"Damn. That sucks," Ethan said, genuinely sympathetic.

"If some dumbass hadn't lured the zombies away, we'd probably still be trapped in the library," Big Mike muttered, still shaken.

Chris's expression soured. "Excuse me? Who are you calling a dumbass?"

"I didn't say it was you."

Chris smirked. "Oh, come on. You really think it wasn't me?"

Big Mike's eyes went wide. "Wait—seriously? That was you?! How the hell did you get away with a hundred zombies chasing you?!"

Chris shrugged. "Easy. Killed them all."

"…"

Sean, Big Mike, and Skinny Pete all stared at him, speechless.

But none of them called bullshit.

Because with Ethan around?

Yeah… it actually sounded possible.

But while Sean and his crew believed Chris, the rest of the crowd clearly didn't. The moment Chris made his claim, the grumbling started.

"Yeah right. Took out over a hundred zombies? Why not say you can fly while you're at it?"

"Please. So what, the rest of us are just useless compared to your little squad? Get over yourself."

"Exactly. We were out there risking our lives while you guys were holed up in your dorms. Now you show up acting like heroes?"

Sean, Big Mike, and Skinny Pete all winced. They didn't even try to defend the others—just gave the loudmouths a look of pure pity.

These people had no idea what they were poking.

And over by the side, the four guys from Dorm 708—who'd also been at the library—stayed completely silent. They recognized Ethan and Chris the moment they showed up, but they didn't say a word. After what they'd seen back there, they weren't about to stick their necks out for anyone else. Let the fools dig their own graves.

Chris turned to Ethan, voice low and eager. "Ethan, my fists are getting itchy."

Ethan didn't even blink. "Go for it. Don't hold back."

"Oh yeah!" Chris grinned and strode straight up to the two loudest hecklers. Without a word, he raised his hand and slapped the first one across the face.

SMACK!

The sound cracked through the air like a gunshot. The guy hit the ground hard, two teeth flying out of his mouth.

"What the hell?! You can't just hit people!"

"Yeah! You get called out for lying and now you're throwing punches?!"

The crowd started to stir, voices rising in protest.

Chris didn't even glance at them. He turned and backhanded the second guy just as hard, sending him sprawling.

"Holy shit, he just wrecked them!"

The crowd exploded. That wasn't just a slap—that was a public execution.

"Sean, you gonna let this slide?" someone called out, trying to rally support. "You know these guys!"

Everyone turned to Sean. His reputation from the trip back carried weight—he'd been one of the strongest among them. If anyone could rein these guys in, it was him.

Sean didn't hesitate. "If you wanna die, don't drag me down with you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means if you're dumb enough to pick a fight, I won't stop you. But don't expect me to save your ass."

The crowd went quiet.

Sean was tough. Everyone had seen that firsthand. He'd taken out more zombies than most of them combined. And if even he was backing off from these guys…

People started to get the picture.

But the two who'd been slapped weren't thinking straight. Rage had taken over. One of them scrambled to his feet and grabbed a kitchen knife. The other snatched a metal pipe from someone nearby and charged at Chris with a roar.

Chris didn't flinch. "You wanna die? Fine by me."

He stepped forward, steel tube in hand, and swung.

CRACK!

The guy with the pipe dropped like a sack of bricks, blood spraying from his forehead as he hit the ground.

Chris didn't stop. He pivoted and drove a boot into the other guy's chest. The force of the kick sent him flying over ten feet, crashing into the pavement with a sickening thud.

The crowd gasped.

"Holy shit…"

That kind of power wasn't normal. You didn't just kick someone ten feet unless you were built like a tank—or juiced up on something serious.

Sean and his crew exchanged glances. No words needed. They all saw the same thing in each other's eyes.

Chris had gotten stronger. A lot stronger.

The two guys on the ground weren't getting up anytime soon. They groaned, barely conscious, eyes wide with fear as they looked up at Chris.

"This was just a warning," Chris said calmly. "Next time, watch your mouth."

He turned and walked back to Ethan, falling in step behind him. The group headed for the stairs, and the crowd parted without a word.

Only then did people realize—Chris wasn't even the leader.

If that was the muscle… what the hell was the guy in front capable of?

As they disappeared upstairs, the tension finally broke. Everyone exhaled at once.

Sean looked down at the two groaning figures and shook his head. "You're lucky. If Ethan had stepped in, you'd be dead."

"He wouldn't actually kill someone… would he?" someone asked, voice shaky.

Sean gave a cold chuckle. "You think killing someone's hard now? Look around. The world's gone to hell. You think anyone's gonna care if a couple more bodies hit the floor?"

No one answered.

They didn't have to. The silence said it all.

Out there, the streets were littered with corpses. Limbs, blood, death everywhere. It could be anyone next. A wrong word, a wrong move—that's all it took.

From now on, people would think twice before running their mouths.

And the two who'd been beaten?

They didn't say another word. Not a single one.

...

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