Just over three miles from the Safe Zone, in a quiet residential district, a squad of soldiers was moving fast, sweeping through the area and clearing out the remaining zombies.

With enough firepower, the undead weren't so terrifying anymore.

Under a hail of bullets, they dropped in droves—mowed down like weeds under a combine.

As the soldiers pushed forward, they rescued survivors where they could and scoured supermarkets, convenience stores, and abandoned homes for supplies.

The Safe Zone's population was growing by the day, and with it, the demand for food, water, and medicine. The haul from the Walmart run hadn't lasted long.

So now, the soldiers had two jobs: rescue and resupply.

They'd just finished clearing out a supermarket and were about to start looting when it happened.

From every direction—alleys, rooftops, broken windows—tens of thousands of zombies surged toward them in a frenzied wave.

The soldiers froze for a split second, stunned.

"I thought we cleared the rear sectors already! Where the hell are all these coming from?" Major Tate Donovan barked, eyes narrowing.

"No idea," said Captain William Carter, scanning the horizon. "It's like they just... appeared."

"Form up! Prepare to engage!"

Luckily, they'd come loaded for war. Ammo wasn't a problem this time.

Machine guns were mounted in seconds, and the air filled with the deafening roar of gunfire. Zombies dropped by the dozens, then hundreds.

But more kept coming, trampling over the bodies of the fallen, relentless and fast.

"Boom!"

A high-explosive grenade tore through the front ranks, sending limbs flying and halting the charge—momentarily.

"Hmph," Tate sneered. "This isn't like last time. We're not running dry today."

With full stocks of ammo and hardened soldiers, they held their ground. Even against overwhelming numbers, they didn't flinch.

Until the real threat arrived.

From the rooftop behind them, five zombies leapt down—fast, silent, and deadly. They landed in the middle of the formation and tore into the soldiers like wolves in a henhouse.

Screams erupted.

"Tier 5s!" someone shouted in horror.

Panic spread like wildfire.

The soldiers, mostly Tier 3 and Tier 4, were no match for five Tier 5 zombies in close quarters. Their formation shattered. Gunfire faltered. And the horde surged in.

Within minutes, the squad was swallowed whole by the tide of undead.

From the rooftop of a nearby house, a female zombie in a black dress watched the carnage unfold. Her expression was unreadable, but the faint curl of her lips hinted at something chilling—satisfaction.

...

The news hit the Safe Zone like a hammer.

Colonel Daniel Reyes read the report in silence, his face darkening with every line. Even with superior firepower, the squad had been wiped out.

He chalked it up to bad luck—maybe they'd stumbled into a larger horde than expected.

But then came the second report.

Another unit. Hundreds of soldiers. Gone.

This time, Reyes couldn't sit still.

They didn't have the manpower to absorb losses like this. Every soldier counted.

Inside the temporary command tent, tension hung thick in the air.

"What the hell is going on?" Reyes demanded, glaring at the officers gathered before him.

"Colonel," said Major Grant, stepping forward, "I don't think this is random. These attacks—they're coordinated. The zombies are targeting our squads deliberately."

"Coordinated?" Major Lawson scoffed. "You're giving them too much credit, Grant. They're zombies, not tacticians."

"I'm not joking," Grant said firmly. "Why haven't they gone after our main force? Why only small squads of a few hundred?"

He looked around the room. "And they hit fast. Clean. By the time reinforcements arrive, they're gone. Not a single corpse left behind."

"That's not normal," he continued. "Zombies don't retreat. They don't clean up after themselves. They feast. But in both cases, there were no remains. No feeding. Just... silence."

The room fell quiet.

The logic was hard to argue with.

If what Grant said was true, these weren't just random attacks. They were surgical strikes.

But that raised a terrifying question.

Zombies weren't supposed to be this smart. Even Tier 5s only had enough intelligence to hide and ambush. This? This was something else entirely.

Unless...

Everyone in the room suddenly looked up, eyes locking.

And in that shared glance, they all saw it—the same flicker of realization, and the same cold, creeping dread.

"Tier 6 zombie…"

Colonel Reyes drew in a long, steady breath. The word hung in the air like a storm cloud. His gut told him the same thing everyone else in the room was thinking—this wasn't just a smarter Tier 5. This was something else entirely.

"If we go by the constellation model in our heads," he said slowly, "Tier 6 means a full star ignited. That's a qualitative leap. A transformation."

He looked around the room, voice tightening. "Zombies would be no exception. If one of them's hit Tier 6, organizing coordinated ambushes is just the beginning."

"Pull all squads back," he ordered. "No more rescue missions with fewer than two thousand troops. I want every unit on high alert, no exceptions."

"And send out scouts. I want eyes everywhere. We need to know exactly what we're dealing with."

"Yes, sir!"

...

Elsewhere…

Vivian and her team had just reached a residential block, only to find the streets littered with zombie corpses.

"Someone's been here," she muttered, frowning.

"The blood's still fresh," Nate said, crouching beside a body. "Could be locals. Maybe someone holed up inside."

"In that case, let's move on," Vivian said. She wasn't looking for trouble—just zombies to kill and power to gain.

But then—

"Wait… do you guys smell that?" a chubby woman in the group suddenly asked, sniffing the air like a bloodhound. Her eyes fluttered shut in bliss. "Oh my god… is that… stew?"

"Mmm, yeah," someone else said, inhaling deeply. "Holy hell, that smells amazing. I haven't had meat in weeks."

"I'm telling you," the chubby woman said, eyes wide with reverence, "that's beef. Braised. With spices. Jesus, I think I'm gonna cry."

The group, who'd been ready to move on, suddenly froze in place. Feet rooted to the ground. Noses twitching.

In the twenty days since the world fell apart, a decent meal had become a luxury. Even for Enhanced like them, food usually meant stale bread, protein bars, or whatever expired snacks they could scavenge from half-looted stores.

But beef? Real, slow-cooked beef?

That was practically a religious experience.

"Someone's out here eating beef stew in the goddamn apocalypse," Vivian muttered, taking a deep whiff. "Unreal. Smells amazing."

"Vivian," the chubby woman said, practically drooling, "can we just… go check it out?"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "You see the building? The whole bottom floor's crawling with zombies. How exactly do you plan to get in?"

The scent had drawn every zombie in the housing block to that one building. They were packed in tight around the stairwell, snarling and clawing at the walls, but the stairs were blocked—whoever was inside had barricaded themselves well.

"Who the hell cooks something that smells this good in the middle of the end times?" Thomas muttered, scowling. "They're practically ringing the dinner bell for every zombie in a mile radius."

But even he couldn't hide the hunger in his eyes.

"Maybe they're not afraid," Vivian said with a dry laugh. "Maybe they don't need rescuing."

"Not afraid?" Thomas snorted. "They're surrounded. If the Guard doesn't show up, they're screwed."

"Not everyone needs your damn Guard," Vivian snapped. Then she turned to the group. "Let's go. We'll find another spot."

But no one moved.

They all stood there, gazes locked on the building like it was the promised land. The smell of beef stew hung in the air like a spell.

"Vivian," someone said, "what if we just… stayed here? Killed some zombies? I feel stronger just smelling that stew."

"Yeah," another chimed in. "We could lure them out a few at a time. Clear the area. No rush."

Vivian looked around at her team—at the longing in their eyes, the way they kept sniffing the air like starving dogs.

She knew exactly what they were thinking.

They wanted to clear the building. Not for the mission. Not for the XP.

For the beef.

And honestly?

She couldn't blame them.

That stew smelled like heaven.

...

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