After a long detour, Ethan and the others finally reached the Walmart.

Even taking the long way around, they'd still run into plenty of zombies along the way. But with their current strength, unless it was a full-on horde, they could handle it without breaking stride.

This Walmart was massive—easily over a hundred thousand square feet. One of the biggest in all of Starlight City.

The front entrance was sealed tight. Big metal shutters, locked down like a fortress.

Ethan activated his True Sight and peered inside. Just as he suspected—it was occupied. And not by a small group, either.

The place was too big for him to get a full read. His ability worked great in open spaces, but throw in walls and shelves and it lost range fast. Right now, he could see through maybe four or five walls at most.

Still, what he did see was enough to sour his expression.

These people weren't just surviving—they were thriving. Living better than Ethan's group, even. Food, clothes, comfort… and worse.

They'd rounded up a group of women. Kept them like property. The kind of thing that made your blood boil.

The women were in bad shape—bruised, naked, broken in every way that mattered. From the look in their eyes, they'd been suffering for a long time.

"Ethan, what's going on in there?" Chris asked, catching the shift in his face.

"A bunch of Enhanced scum," Ethan said, voice low and cold. "And a group of women they've been torturing."

"Fuck!" Chris spat. "Let's storm the place. Kill every last one of those bastards."

"We can't go through the front," Ethan said. "The shutter's reinforced, and there's a steel mesh behind it. Plus, they've stacked shelves behind the entrance. It's a barricade."

"Then how do we get in?"

"Second-floor window."

"Say no more."

They moved quickly to the side of the building. Ethan crouched, then launched himself upward, grabbing the ledge of a second-story window. With a grunt, he forced it open and slipped inside.

The others followed, one by one. At Tier 3 and Tier 4, a jump like that was nothing.

Once inside, they crept through the upper level. From below, faint laughter and voices drifted up—men joking, eating, relaxed.

They moved toward the sound.

As they descended the stairs and caught sight of the scene below, every one of them stopped cold. Then the rage hit.

About sixty men lounged in the center of the store, all wearing biker-style leather vests. Tattoos covered their arms and necks, some with old scars that told stories of violence. These weren't survivors—they were predators.

Not far from them, over a dozen women lay sprawled on the floor, completely naked. Their bodies were covered in bruises, welts, and worse. Not a single patch of unmarked skin. Their eyes were hollow, faces blank. Not even fear—just numbness. The kind of emptiness that only came from long, relentless abuse.

One of the men stood up, licking grease from his fingers. He strolled over to the women, grabbed one by the arm like she was a rag doll, and started to drag her up.

"Bastard!" Big Mike roared. "Let her go!"

His voice thundered through the store.

The bikers froze. Heads turned. Eyes widened.

"The hell—how'd you get in here?" one of the tattooed men barked, stepping forward, fury rising in his voice.

Ethan's eyes went cold.

"Kill them all."

"Gladly," Chris growled, already drawing his weapon.

The group surged forward, weapons flashing.

"Motherfuckers!" the leader of the bikers shouted. "Kill them! Gut every last one!"

The gang scrambled, yanking machetes and blades from behind the shelves. Dozens of them charged, roaring as they rushed Ethan's team.

But they had no idea what they were up against.

Every single one of the men in the Walmart gang was Enhanced—and not just barely. Most were solid Tier 2s, and their leader had already broken into Tier 3.

But that kind of lineup didn't faze Chris and the others in the slightest.

What did pose a bit of a problem, though, was the fact that every one of those bastards was armed with a machete. For Sean and the others wielding fire axes, that was a disadvantage. Their weapons were shorter, and with so many enemies swinging wildly, it was hard to block everything.

Fortunately, Chris didn't hesitate. He charged straight into the fray, barbell bar in hand, and swung it like a wrecking ball. The first few men who rushed him didn't even get a chance to scream—skulls exploded like overripe melons. Their machetes, raised in defense, snapped like twigs under the sheer force of his blows.

Tier 4 Awakened. Over two thousand pounds of raw strength. Chris was a walking tank, and these Tier 2 thugs were nothing but kindling in his path.

The sudden carnage made the rest of the gang hesitate, eyes wide with shock. But they were desperate men, the kind who'd already crossed every line. They didn't back down—they roared and surged forward.

Henry joined the charge, barbell bar spinning in his hands like a steel tornado. One Tier 4, one Tier 3 peak—together, they tore through the crowd like a pair of human battering rams. Every swing sent bodies flying, bones crunching, blood spraying.

"Do we even need to be here?" Skinny Pete muttered, watching the chaos unfold.

"I've made up my mind," Sean said, dead serious. "Soon as we're done here, I'm hitting a gym and grabbing a barbell bar of my own."

"Yeah. Non-negotiable."

Then—bang.

A single gunshot cracked through the air, sharp and sudden. Everyone froze.

The gang leader stood at the back, a pistol now in his hand, smoke curling from the barrel. The muzzle was aimed straight at Chris.

Chris and Henry stopped mid-swing, eyes locked on the weapon. For all their power, for all their upgrades, the sight of a gun still triggered something primal. Fear. Doubt. They didn't know if they could survive a bullet to the head—and they didn't want to find out the hard way.

"Come on, tough guys!" the man sneered. "What now, huh? Didn't expect that, did you?"

He stepped forward, cocky now. "Didn't think a bunch of little punks like you would put up a fight. But I don't care how strong you are—let's see you stop a bullet."

No one answered. The team stood tense, eyes flicking between the gun and Ethan.

Then Ethan stepped forward.

"Ethan…" Chris said, voice tight with concern.

Ethan didn't stop. He walked calmly past them, placing himself between the gun and his team.

"You said something just now," Ethan said, eyes locked on the man. "Mind repeating it?"

The gang leader blinked. "What?"

"You think I don't believe your gun is real?" Ethan said, voice low. "I know it is. That's why I want to test it."

The man stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "You serious?"

"I want to see if I can take it."

"You're fucking insane," the man growled. "Fine. Let's find out."

He raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

Bang.

The bullet tore through the air, too fast for the eye to follow—but not too fast for Ethan. With True Sight active, he tracked its path in real time.

His hand snapped up.

There was a sharp sting as the bullet slammed into his palm—but it didn't go through.

When he opened his hand, the bullet sat there, warm and still, nestled in his skin.

Everyone froze.

Chris and the others stared, eyes wide, jaws slack.

"Holy shit," Sean whispered. "He caught it."

"Ethan, you absolute legend," Chris breathed, eyes practically sparkling.

The gang leader's face twisted in disbelief. "What the fuck…"

"I'm not done," Ethan said.

The man snarled and fired again.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Four more shots rang out in rapid succession.

Ethan's hands moved like a blur, swiping through the air. Then he held out his palm and opened it.

Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.

Four bullets dropped to the floor, bouncing on the tile with a sound that echoed like a death knell.

The gang leader's face went pale. The color drained from him like someone had pulled the plug.

That sound—those tiny, metallic clinks—hit harder than any war cry. It was the sound of his powerlessness. The sound of his death sentence.

...

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