Ethan, Chris, Henry, Sean, Big Mike, and Skinny Pete sprinted toward a house just off the side of the road, boots pounding pavement, breath sharp in their throats.

They were barely within reach of the front door when the moaning started—low at first, then rising like a tide. From alleys, behind cars, out of shattered windows, the undead poured in, swarming toward them.

"Get to the stairwell!" Ethan barked, already swinging his barbell bar like a scythe through wheat. The stairwell was still the safest bet—tight quarters, one direction to defend, no surprises from behind.

The six of them hacked and shoved their way through the first wave, the clang of metal on bone echoing off the walls. They burst into the stairwell and immediately turned to hold the line, smashing down the zombies that followed.

For a moment, it worked. The narrow space funneled the horde into a kill zone, and they cut them down with brutal efficiency.

Then, from somewhere beyond the house, a deep, guttural roar split the air.

The zombies froze.

Every last one of them stopped climbing the stairs. Instead, they gathered at the base, clustering like dogs waiting for a command.

"..."

"Jesus," Chris muttered, eyes wide. "That Tier 5's got brains."

No one said it, but they were all thinking the same thing: if all Tier 5s were this smart, they were in for a world of hurt.

"Ethan, what now?" Sean asked, gripping his barbell bar tighter.

"If they won't come up, we go down," Ethan said, calm and sharp. "Stick to the walls so we don't get flanked. Fight until you're winded, then fall back to the stairwell and catch your breath. As long as we don't get surrounded, we've got this."

"Got it."

They moved out, descending into the chaos.

The slaughter began.

The zombies were tougher now—Tier 2s at minimum, with Tier 3s making up nearly ten percent of the crowd. But the six of them were all Tier 4, and that made a difference. A big one.

Their barbell bars gave them reach, and their strength meant most zombies didn't get close enough to bite. Even the occasional Tier 4 zombie couldn't break through their formation. With the wall at their backs and only one direction to defend, they held firm, moving like a single, deadly machine.

Still, there were nearly three thousand of the damn things. Killing them all wasn't going to be quick.

Ethan fought with practiced rhythm, eyes scanning the crowd even as he crushed skulls. He was looking for the Tier 5—the one pulling the strings. That bastard liked to play dirty, and Ethan wasn't about to let it sneak up on them.

Then he saw it.

"Got you," he muttered.

It was wearing black—nothing flashy, just enough to blend in. It moved with the horde, slow and unassuming, just another face in the crowd. But Ethan's [True Sight] lit it up like a flare.

He gave the others a subtle nod, then kept swinging, pretending not to notice.

The Tier 5 crept closer, step by step, waiting for its moment.

So was Ethan.

At six feet out, the Tier 5 made its move. It shoved two zombies forward like meat shields, then leapt high, an axe flashing in its hands as it came down toward Ethan's skull.

Ethan grinned coldly. "Been waiting for you."

He ignored the two zombies, barbell bar already in motion. It slammed into the Tier 5 midair with a sickening crunch.

"Boom—"

The creature hit the ground hard, bouncing off the pavement.

Ethan shoved aside the two decoys and lunged, both hands gripping the barbell bar as he brought it down again.

The Tier 5 rolled, just barely dodging the blow.

Ethan stayed on it, relentless. He swung again, not giving it a second to recover.

The Tier 5 let out a furious roar.

And suddenly, the horde went berserk.

Every zombie in the area turned and charged, howling, straight at Ethan.

Ethan's assault faltered as the swarm surged toward him, forcing him to shift focus and start clearing the undead in his path.

"Goddamn sneaky bastard," he muttered, teeth clenched. "Can't fight like a man, huh?"

While Ethan was tangled up with the horde, the Tier 5 zombie scrambled to its feet, eyes locking onto him with a predator's focus.

"Ethan, we've got you!" Chris's voice rang out as he and the others charged in, carving a path through the crowd to relieve the pressure on Ethan.

With the immediate threat cleared, Ethan gave them a quick nod of thanks, then turned and charged the Tier 5, barbell bar gripped tight in both hands.

One way or another, this thing was dying today.

The Tier 5 saw its minions held back and knew the ambush had failed. It raised its axe and met Ethan head-on.

Clang!

The axe and barbell bar collided with a screech of metal, the impact jarring Ethan's arms so hard he stumbled back several steps, fingers tingling from the shock.

He grimaced. "Damn. It's stronger again—at least forty-six hundred pounds of force."

If they'd waited even a few more days, this thing might've leveled up again. That would've been a nightmare.

Shaking off the numbness, Ethan swung again. His barbell bar had the reach advantage over the fire axe, but that was about it. The Tier 5's body was a tank—Ethan's strikes to its torso barely registered. Only headshots made it flinch, and those were always blocked.

It was like the thing was saying, "Anywhere but the head, go ahead and try."

Ethan didn't have that luxury. One good hit from that axe and he'd be lucky to crawl away.

"Time to change the game," he thought.

The Tier 5 lunged again, axe arcing toward his skull.

But this time, Ethan didn't block.

He gritted his teeth and swung low, barbell bar slamming into the zombie's wrist.

Crack!

The bone snapped with a sickening crunch. The axe flew from its hand, spinning end over end—straight at Ethan's head.

He jerked sideways just in time.

The axe clipped his shoulder, slicing deep.

"Shit—" Ethan hissed, staggering back, face pale from the pain.

He'd disarmed it, but paid for it in blood.

Still, no weapon meant the fight just got a hell of a lot easier.

Gritting through the agony, Ethan raised the barbell bar and brought it down on the zombie's head.

The Tier 5 threw up its arms to block.

Thud!

The bar slammed into its forearm, but unlike the lower-tier zombies, this one didn't buckle. It held firm, absorbing the blow.

Ethan didn't flinch. He just kept swinging.

Again. And again.

Finally—crack—the arm gave way, bone snapping under the relentless assault.

For the first time, the Tier 5's expression shifted. Fear.

It turned and bolted, trying to vanish into the crowd.

"Oh no you don't," Ethan growled.

He lunged, barbell bar sweeping low.

Wham!

The bar smashed into the zombie's legs. It didn't break them, but it was enough to send the creature sprawling.

It scrambled to rise—but Ethan was already there.

He brought the bar down hard on its skull.

Crack!

Blood sprayed, but the head didn't cave. The zombie collapsed again, dazed but still alive, still screeching for help.

Its minions heard the call and went berserk, trying to reach their master. But Chris and the others held the line, bodies braced, refusing to let a single one through.

"End of the line," Ethan muttered.

He raised the barbell bar one last time and brought it down with everything he had.

Crunch.

The skull split like a melon, gray matter splattering across the pavement.

...

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