The End of the World
When people hear the phrase "the end of the world," their minds often conjure familiar images: dark skies, raging fires, ruined cities, and scorched earth. It's the sort of scene you see in movies, the stuff of nightmares. Yet, for most, it's just a phrase—something distant, intangible. A vague concept safely tucked away from their day-to-day lives.
But reality has no use for fiction when it chooses to bare its fangs.
It was common knowledge that the end of the world cared little for titles or power. Presidents, kings, generals—the mighty—were all swept away in its unrelenting tide. No one was spared. But how many had ever truly imagined it happening? Not many. And fewer still had considered what they would do when it did.
That ignorance evaporated an hour ago, when the impossible became real.
Now, standing at the gates of the stadium, people stared in frozen horror. Chaos unraveled before them, and their fragile illusion of safety shattered like glass. The truth was clear in every trembling breath and widened eye: this was the end.
To the west, toward the female hostels, the world had transformed into a battlefield.
Five hostels had once stood proudly, lining the road with their familiar architecture, framed by car parks where parents once dropped off their children. Mini stores nestled between the buildings, selling snacks, toiletries, and forgotten essentials. Across the street, a wide footpath ran alongside a grassy expanse where students used to gather for fresh air or quiet reflection.
But that was no longer the case.
Four of the hostels now lay in ruin, engulfed in flames or reduced to scorched skeletons of steel and ash. Their blackened remains stood as grim monuments to the devastation. The fifth hostel still clung to life, its structure groaning, barely standing as if defying the chaos that surrounded it.
The road itself had become a graveyard. Cars were strewn across it, some crumpled from collisions, others burned and blackened, their windows shattered. Blood stained the cracked pavement, leaking from crushed bodies. Some corpses twitched, still clinging to life, dragging broken limbs in a hopeless crawl for safety.
The security forces—those meant to protect—had become part of the nightmare. Once human, now monstrous, they lurked among the wreckage as members of the undead horde.
Yet amid the carnage, a spark of hope persisted.
Screams rang from the burning hostels—proof that some were still alive. Survivors fled across the grasslands, desperate to outrun the ravenous undead.
And in that chaos, a group of girls had formed a defensive circle, fighting back with makeshift weapons and unrelenting resolve. They held their ground, protecting others and inspiring more to resist.
Back at the stadium gate, the shrieks and groans reached the crowd. Horror clutched at their hearts, but something stirred beneath the fear.
Surprisingly, the first to move was a girl who had earlier fainted. Her eyes flew open as if snapped awake by a jolt of raw instinct. She stumbled toward Jon, shaking his arm frantically.
"HEY! We have to do something! If we don't—"
She didn't finish. She didn't need to. The unspoken word—death—hung heavy in the air.
Jon, bathed once more in that strange, calming sensation, jolted into action. A plan snapped into place with startling clarity.
"Jenny, we're going to help those on the grassland. We'll direct the non-fighters here."
He surprised even himself with how fluidly the strategy formed. His new skills had sharpened his thinking, and now, everything clicked into place.
Around him, something had changed. The panic among the crowd had dulled. Faces still bore fear, but there was focus in their eyes. Jenny noticed, too, and her heart lifted. The people were beginning to step up.
Then, Jon and Jenny shared a look—a silent agreement. As one, they dropped their bags and sprinted forward, leaving the others behind.
The dulled panic flared to life through the crowd, but Tunde stepped forward and steadied them, calming the chaos before it could rise again.
Out in the open, Jon and Jenny were already adapting to their powers.
Jenny had acquired a sword from a zombie's orb. Her silver flames curled around the blade like a living aura. She charged at a massive zombie wearing a melted security uniform. Her swing was clumsy but powerful, the flames slicing across its face. The creature stumbled but did not fall.
Gritting her teeth, Jenny poured more mana into her second skill: "Chains."
CHNG... CLANG!
Thick brown chains erupted from the ground, snaking up to coil around the zombie's arms and shoulders. Immobilized, it roared in fury. Jenny took the chance to coat her sword in silver fire again, leapt forward, and cleaved through its skull.
The body hit the ground with a heavy thud.
[YOU HAVE OBTAINED LEVEL 7 ZOMBIE REMAINS] [YOUR LEVEL HAS INCREASED] [YOUR LEVEL HAS INCREASED]
"This one...is stronger than the ones in the stadium," she muttered, wiping sweat from her brow and turning toward the next.
Meanwhile, Jon was deep in thought even as he fought.
He had studied Jenny's flames closely. They were fluid, almost alive—both weapon and energy. His own power, "Moon," had so far only been supportive, being able to stop movement, but he knew there had to be more.
The skill itself spoke volumes. It said he was in the scope of his understanding.
Now, the moon itself wasn't just a distant rock in the sky. It radiated power, a soft blue glow that could light up the night. That glow, it had to be energy, right?
It even made it better as the moon was coming up.
With the help of his skill, "Instant Calculation," his thoughts accelerated.
He raised his spear, focusing.
A light blue mist began to leak from his skin, cloaking his form in ethereal light. The same energy spread to the tip of his spear, igniting it with a moonlight glow.
Then he struck.
Before the spear even touched the zombie, its head detonated with a thunderous blast.
BOOM.
The air trembled with the force. Blood and gore painted the street. It was the first explosion caused by a skill, and every head turned toward the source.
Even Jenny, mid-swing, stopped to glance. Her eyes widened.
Messages flickered in Jon's vision:
[YOU HAVE OBTAINED QUALIFICATIONS TO EVOLVE SKILL]
[MOON (FIRST REALM) LEVEL 1 —> LEVEL 3: YOUR UNDERSTANDING OF THE MOON HAS INCREASED. YOU GAINED QUALIFICATIONS TO USE MOON ENERGY]
[INSTANT CALCULATION (FIRST REALM) LEVEL 1 —> LEVEL 3: INCREASE SPEED TO CALCULATE BY 15%]
[YOU HAVE OBTAINED LEVEL 8 ZOMBIE REMAINS]
[YOUR LEVEL HAS INCREASED]
He barely had time to read before more zombies turned toward him.
A group of five approached, one noticeably larger and more grotesque. Jon didn't hesitate. He thrust his spear at the four smaller ones.
BOOM… BOOM… BOOM… BOOM.
Each zombie dropped, their bodies torn by an invisible force.
Jon gasped, breath ragged. The moon energy drained his mana fast.
Then came the larger zombie.
It moved faster, smarter. Jon knew instantly—it was different.
This one was stronger than the others he had been fighting.
And it didn't wait.
So far, the zombies had only been staggering, however, this one was walking briskly.
The creature raised its massive claw and swung downward, aiming straight for Jon's face.
The air screamed.
Jon's eyes widened.
Then—