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As the creature roared monstrously, the guards panicked and fled, abandoning their posts. The seasoned survivors watched in disbelief as every one of them ran.
"W-Where are you going?! You can’t just run!" the black-haired man shouted.
"Damn it! I knew these newbies wouldn’t hold up!" the burly bald man yelled.
"That damn tower has only made things worse for us! Sure, food and bullets are nice, but everything else it’s taken from us is driving insane!" the blonde woman snapped, firing several explosive arrows at the mutant.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
"GRAAAGH!"
The mutant groaned in pain, its body engulfed in flas. But instead of retreating, it roared again and charged into the watchtower, tearing through it and setting it ablaze.
CRASH!
"Agh! Fuck!"
The blonde woman hit the ground hard, rolling straight into a horde of zombies. They snarled, baring sharp teeth as their claws reached for her, grabbing and dragging her into the mass.
"Aaahh! Aaaaaggh! Nooo! Soone! Help ee! MARK!"
"CLARISE!"
The bald man rushed to her aid, only to be struck in the chest by the mutant. His shirt caught fire as he rolled across the ground, frantically tearing it off. But the burning titan caught up, seized him, and opened its massive jaws, ready to bite his head off.
"FUCK YOU!"
anwhile, chaos erupted across the camp. People scread and scattered. More than half the population were children or teenagers, young, inexperienced, and still trying to grow up in this brutal world.
The adults did everything they could to help them escape, but the camp was surrounded. The only way out was through the sewers: fewer zombies, but dark, muddy, and hiding other dangers.
An elderly woman—known to all simply as "Grandma"—grabbed the children and led them out of the kindergarten. Suddenly, zombies leapt from the rooftops, targeting the kids.
"No! Stop! Damn rotten bastards!"
She swung her axe, hacking at the attackers, but they struck her down and reached for the children, ready to feast.
Despair consud the camp—one of the last remaining sanctuaries in a ruined world.
And yet...
"Huh? What? What’s... am I already dead? Did I turn into a zombie?"
Clarise blinked, confused. The zombies that had been seconds away from devouring her had stopped. They stared blankly at the sky, unmoving.
None of them touched her.
"Aren’t you going to eat , you motherfucking piece of shit?! Hey! Agh!"
Mark collapsed, stunned. The mutant that had nearly killed him suddenly cald, gazing at him silently before turning and walking away, rejoining the horde as if nothing had happened.
"What? What the fuck?!"
Mark was speechless. Clarise ran to him, hugging and kissing him in relief. He held her tightly; grateful she was alive.
"Mark! What’s happening?! The zombies stopped moving! Is this so kind of phenonon? Is a stronger one coming? A Lord?!"
"I don’t know, but we can’t waste this chance. We need to get the hell out before they snap out of it!"
They ran with the other survivors, finding the children sobbing beside Grandma, who was comforting them while watching the zombies stand motionlessly, like drones awaiting orders.
"Clarise! Mark! What’s going on?! I’ve never seen anything like this!" she said.
" neither, Grandma, but we need to leave!" Mark urged.
"We have to hurry, before it’s too late!" Clarise cried.
"But where?! It took us years to build this place! You expect us to find another shelter for all of us? It’s impossible!" Grandma protested. "Shouldn’t we figure out what’s happening first? Soone at the watchtower! Do you see anything unusual?"
"I-I see sothing...!" Jas stamred, his hands trembling. "I think... it’s a large group of Players. And... a pale woman with red eyes and long white hair..."
"What?!" Grandma raised an eyebrow and climbed the watchtower, handing the baby she carried to Clarise. "Let see, Jas!"
She took the telescope and peered into the distance. A group was approaching—large, organized.
"How many Players are there?" she wondered aloud.
"Maybe they helped us!" Jas said with a hopeful grin.
"Don’t be so trusting! Rember the last ti we welcod a Player from another world? They stole our food and vanished!" Grandma snapped. "Sotis, Players are more dangerous than zombies. Don’t trust them so easily."
The camp gathered at the entrance, shooing away the now-docile, animal-like zombies. They groaned and retreated without attacking.
Then the Players arrived. The woman leading them stepped forward.
And sothing happened that only Lords had ever done.
The zombies parted, clearing a path for her and her group. Many even bowed their heads, showing reverence.
"I think we’re about to et soone really important..." Jas whispered.
"Shut your damn mouth, Jas," Clarise muttered.
Her regal bearing, dark aura, and striking beauty created a presence unlike anything they’d seen. Most Players looked odd or overly cheerful—always sohow lesser. Zombie Lords were monstrous, barely human.
But she had the aura of a Zombie Lord... or sothing beyond. And the grace, elegance, and charisma of a goddess.
"It’s a relief they stopped before anyone died," she said gently. "I’ve tad most of the zombies on the planet. But if I leave them on ’auto,’ they just go back to doing what they love. My bad."
"Y-You... what?" Jas asked.
"Did she say ’tad’?!" Mark gasped.
"Yes... she said tad," Clarise replied, her voice trembling.
"You can control the horde?" Grandma asked, her hands shaking. She stood tall, trying to remain brave as the camp’s leader. "Who are you?"
"My na is Maria. I’m a Player from Floor 50—Yggdrasil," Maria said. "I possess a certain power over Death itself. I’m what’s known as a Necromancer. Have you ever t one?"
"Necromancer? No..." Grandma murmured. "Floor 50... we barely know there are more floors. That tower hasn’t helped us at all during this apocalypse. Those who awaken as Players escape, leaving us weaker. Our strongest warriors have abandoned us."
"Oh, that’s a pity," Maria said. "Well, for now, you have nothing to worry about."
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