On the other side…

"Ethan, I don't get it," Chris said as they walked. "Those girls weren't bad. Quick on their feet, didn't ask dumb questions, and they're easy on the eyes. Why not bring them along?"

"Now's not the time to take on more people," Ethan replied without looking back. "The bigger the group, the more resources we burn. Unless someone's a stronger Awakened than us, they're just dead weight."

"Okay, but then why give them all those crystal cores?"

"What, you want us to dig them out one by one ourselves?" Ethan shot him a look. "We're free to move now. That time's better spent hunting Tier 2 zombies. More risk, more reward."

"…Fair point."

"Tier 1 cores are everywhere now. We're not short on them. Giving those girls the leftovers saves us time and earns us a favor. Win-win."

He paused, then added, "Grace is sharp. If nothing goes wrong, they might actually surprise us. That kind of investment might pay off later."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "You're not worried they'll get strong and turn on us?"

Ethan chuckled. "She's smart. Unless there's a major conflict of interest, she won't cross us. They might catch up a little, but surpass us? Not a chance. I've got that much confidence."

Henry let out a low whistle. "Ethan, sometimes I forget you're only in your twenties."

Chris laughed. "Henry, you've known Ethan for three years. You still think he's our age? He just looks twenty-something. Mentally, he's like a forty-year-old war vet."

"…"

"Alright, enough roasting me," Ethan said, rolling his eyes. "There's a convenience store up ahead. Let's grab some food, then head straight to Capstone House. No point going back to the dorm for lunch. Today, I want both of you pushing to the peak of Tier 2. And if we're lucky, maybe we'll run into a Tier 3 zombie."

"Sounds good."

They reached the convenience store—only to find it already occupied.

Four people were holed up inside, and no matter how long the trio knocked, no one opened the door.

Ethan sighed, then stepped forward and kicked the door in with a single, sharp blow.

"What the hell are you doing?!" someone inside shouted, startled.

"Relax," Ethan said with a smile. "We're just grabbing a few things and leaving."

"No way! This stuff's ours! You can't just take it!" a skinny guy stepped in front of them, arms spread wide.

"Move," Ethan said, voice flat. "Don't make me hurt you."

"I won't—"

Thud!

The man flew backward like a rag doll, crashing into a shelf.

Ethan didn't even blink. He walked past him and started pulling food off the shelves.

"You're nothing but thieves!" one of the others shouted, glaring at them.

Ethan turned his head slowly, eyes cold. "You want to fly too?"

The room went silent.

They grabbed a few snacks and bottles of water, then left without another word. No point wasting time on people who couldn't fight back.

After eating, they made their way to Capstone House.

But when they arrived, the front doors were shut tight.

"Seriously?" Chris muttered. "There's no food here. What the hell are they doing inside?"

"Probably scouting the area," Ethan said, eyes narrowing. "If I had to guess, it's a zombie-hunting team. No one else would bother coming here."

"Great. So do we wait for them to come down, or just kick the door in?"

"Kick it. Who knows how long they'll be up there."

"Got it."

Chris stepped up and slammed his foot into the door—but it didn't budge.

"What the hell? Did they barricade it from the inside?"

"Looks like it," Ethan said, stepping forward. "Guess they're cautious. My turn."

He drew back and drove his foot into the door with a sharp crack. A split opened down the middle, revealing four thick steel tubes braced across the inside.

Just as Ethan had guessed, the door had been reinforced with four steel tubes wedged across the frame. But under his sheer strength, even those thick bars bent like soft wire.

A few more kicks, and the door gave way with a groan of metal and splintering wood.

Without a word, the three of them headed upstairs.

Sure enough, on the rooftop, they found a group of over twenty people huddled together, deep in discussion. Every one of them was armed—steel pipes, fire axes, katanas, metal rods—and all of them were smeared with blood. Judging by the mess on their clothes, they'd been through more than a few zombie fights.

The moment Ethan and the others stepped onto the roof, the group froze, eyes wide. Clearly, they hadn't expected company.

"How the hell did you get up here?" barked the man in front, a thick-necked brute with muscles like coiled rope.

"Through the door," Ethan said casually.

"Bullshit. I replaced the lock myself. Reinforced it. There's no way you opened that door."

Four steel tubes, braced from the inside. Even a Tier 2 zombie wouldn't have been able to break through.

Ethan smiled. "Then how do you think we got up here?"

"I'm the one asking questions," the man snapped. "You just answer. No need for the smart-ass routine."

"And if I don't?"

The man sneered. "Then you clearly don't understand how things work now. Let me spell it out for you—this isn't the old world. If we kill you here, no one's coming to avenge you. No cops, no courts. You die, and that's it."

"You think you can kill us?" Ethan's voice dropped, cold and sharp.

"Oh, so you're tough now? What, you guys Awakened or something?" The man laughed, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

"Doesn't matter. We've got over twenty Awakened here. You think you can swagger in and act like kings? You're outnumbered, outmatched."

He turned to a hulking man behind him. "Joe, teach these punks a lesson. Show them even Awakened have a pecking order."

"Gladly," Joe said, stepping forward with a grin and a heavy metal pipe in hand. He walked right up to Ethan, eyes gleaming with malice.

"Kneel."

He swung the pipe down at Ethan's legs.

WHAM!

A dull thud echoed across the rooftop—followed by the sound of Joe's body slamming into the concrete as he was sent flying backward, crashing at the feet of his stunned comrades.

"Holy shit!" someone gasped.

The leader's face twisted with rage. "They wanna fight? Fine! Kill them!"

Weapons raised, the whole group surged forward.

Ethan, Chris, and Henry didn't flinch. They each grabbed their barbell bars and charged straight into the fray.

The rooftop exploded into chaos.

Screams, metal clashing, bones breaking.

These people had some skill—most were Tier 1, a few at the peak—but compared to Ethan's team, they were toddlers swinging sticks.

Ethan's barbell bar moved like a wrecking ball. With 1,200 pounds of force behind every swing, each hit sent bodies flying. One strike, and two or three attackers would crumple to the ground, groaning or unconscious. Some didn't get back up at all.

Chris and Henry weren't far behind. Their strength had surged after absorbing the Tier 2 cores, and it showed. They moved like wolves among sheep, precise and brutal.

The barbell bars were heavy—forty pounds of solid steel—but damn if they didn't feel good in a fight. Long reach, crushing weight, and the satisfying crunch of metal meeting bone.

The attackers barely got close. Most couldn't even touch their clothes before getting flattened.

Within minutes, the rooftop was littered with groaning bodies.

The leader stood frozen, eyes wide with disbelief as he watched his entire crew get dismantled.

"You… you're Tier 2!?" he stammered, voice cracking.

Ethan didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

...

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