As Zero and the rest settled into their seats, a chilling presence took the stage.
A man stood at the podium, draped in a dark, regal robe. His long beard swayed slightly as he moved, but it was his face—or rather, the absence of one—that truly caught everyone's attention. A bare skull, glowing faintly with necrotic energy, looked out over the new students.
This was Dr. Aaron, a renowned mage of death. A powerful NPC tied to countless factions and higher powers within the game.
Dr. Aaron's hollow eye sockets swept across the hall before his deep, echoing voice filled the room.
[Dr. Aaron]: Welcome, students. Whether you arrived by privilege, skill, or sheer luck, you now stand within the academy's halls. Your past does not matter here. Your race, your status, your beliefs—irrelevant. What matters is that you survive. The first year is mandatory. No exceptions. Only after completing it will you be granted permission to leave for a time. Until then, consider this academy your entire world.
A pause. A slight tilt of his head.
[Dr. Aaron]: Now, onto the Trials. There will be three. Each is randomized. You will learn what they are when the time comes. So… suffer—I mean, enjoy your stay.
With that, his entire form wavered like smoke, then vanished.
The hall fell into stunned silence.
[One]: I like him. He's honest.
Zero sighed, already feeling an incoming headache.
Before he could respond, a deep chime rang through the academy—loud, ancient, and heavy with magic.
The first trial was about to begin and they were sent to it by a teleport spell.
[Five minutes later]
Zero let out a slow, measured breath as he read the blood-painted sign.
[WELCOME TO AUSTRALIA. HOPE YOU BROUGHT A GUN.]
His eye twitched.
[Zero]: Great. The Forbidden Continent of Death. And right in the middle of a zombie infection zone. Fantastic.
He took a quick survey of his surroundings. Crumbling skyscrapers, broken roads, abandoned vehicles. The air carried the sickly-sweet stench of decay, and in the distance, the unmistakable sound of something moving. Many somethings.
Zero tightened his grip. He hated the zombies of this world.
The zombies in this world weren't just mindless flesh-eaters. They were a full-blown, evolving species—intelligent, fast, and worse, organized.
They weren't like the slow, mindless husks from other games.
These things ran. They hunted in packs.
And worst of all? They thought.
From the basic swarmers and runners to the more terrifying ones—the blacksmiths that built weapons, the tanks that could bulldoze through buildings, the hydrated ones that thrived in water, and the flying variants that made rooftops unsafe. Then there were the real nightmares—their hierarchy.
Standard Zombies: Fast, vicious, and capable of swarming prey with terrifying coordination.
Alphas: Formed when a single zombie devoured a hundred intact brains, gaining intelligence and control over a pack.
Warlords & Warlocks: Alphas who had killed ten others, evolving into brutal leaders.
Kings: Higher-tier warlords with territory and dominance over vast hordes.
Emperors: Near-mythical beings that commanded entire continents.
Apexes: The pinnacle of zombie evolution. Beasts that transcended mortality itself.
And at the top of the nightmare food chain…
The Zombie God.
A monster that had devoured a literal god to ascend beyond the Apex rank.
Zero shuddered at the thought. This entire zombie race, this apocalypse, was all because of one man—Austin Australia—who created the virus. Ironically, the zombies revered him as their true god, although he had been developing a cure before an elf assassinated him. Now, zombies held an eternal grudge against elves, attacking them on sight.
Zero exhaled and clenched his fists, feeling his armor shift around him.
This was bad.
This was really bad.
He needed to get out of here. Fast.
A distant, eerie howl cut through the silence.
Then, the sound of something running.
Lots of somethings.
Zero turned.
The hunt had begun, and Zero was the main course.
Wasting no time, he quickly unleashed a barrage of curses before summoning ten lesser Imps to buy himself a few precious seconds. The scrawny demons, their skin wreathed in flickering fire, hissed and cackled as they spread out, preparing to stall the incoming undead.
Then the zombies arrived.
Fast. Armed. Coordinated.
The first wave of undead—runners in tattered armor wielding rusted blades—leapt at the Imps. Fire breath roared across the battlefield, scorching the pavement and engulfing the zombies in searing heat. For a moment, Zero dared to hope.
Then, in less than thirty seconds, it was over.
Not even a drop of blood remained. The zombies had adapted. Their charred skin cracked and flaked away, revealing regenerating flesh beneath. The flames that should have consumed them instead barely slowed them down.
They turned their heads.
Zero felt their eyes lock onto him. Then they sniffed the air.
[Zero]: Oh, come on! They have tracking abilities too?! Fast, armed, smart, AND they can hunt for days?! Damn you, dev team!
A low growl rumbled from one of the leading zombies. Its head tilted unnaturally, its clouded eyes narrowing in recognition.
Zero ran.
He didn't think—he just sprinted, dodging through crumbling alleys and leaping over rusted cars.
Behind him, the sound of rapid, synchronized footfalls echoed in pursuit.
[Zero]: Dame it, no use running.
He uses his [Great Armor Manifest] talent to cover all his body with his suit and [Demonic Frenzy] and [Forge Hands of Ifrit] and shoots a couple of [Dark Dart] and uses [Poison Creating] to creat a bone-melting poison
Behind him, the sound of rapid, synchronized footfalls grew louder, closing in with terrifying precision.
Zero gritted his teeth.
[Zero]: Damn it… no use running.
He forced himself to stop, turning to face the approaching horde. His instincts screamed at him to flee, but he knew better. These zombies were hunters. Running only delayed the inevitable.
With a sharp exhale, he activated [Great Armor Manifest].
Dark energy surged around his body as obsidian-black armor formed over his suit, reinforced with intricate crimson etchings. The air vibrated with heat as he activated [Demonic Frenzy], his muscles pulsing with newfound strength and speed. His veins burned as raw battle instinct overtook his mind.
Then, he called upon [Forge Hands of Ifrit].
With a crackling explosion, two massive, flaming hands erupted into existence at his sides, their ethereal fingers flexing like living weapons. Their heat warped the air around him, distorting reality itself.
The first of the zombies lunged.
Zero snapped his fingers, sending two [Dark Darts] tearing through the air. The condensed bolts of shadow magic pierced straight through their skulls, but instead of falling, their bodies twitched—the holes already starting to seal.
Zero's eyes widened.
Regeneration.
Fine. He could work with that.
As the next wave charged, Zero activated [Poison Creating], pulling from the depths of his corrupted mana to craft something truly vile. A small glass vial materialized in his palm, filled with a thick, bone-melting toxin that fumed upon exposure to air.
He grinned, his red eyes gleaming beneath his helmet.
[Zero]: Let's see how well you regenerate after dissolving into soup.
The zombies lunged—
And Zero counterattacked.
[Chapter end]