Chapter 12: The Player's Characteristics

Chapter 12: The Player's Characteristics 

Aeon leaned back, the room's tension ebbing slightly as the group began to process the reality of their situation. But his mind wasn't entirely focused on them—it was drifting back to the game he had created, and more specifically, to the character he had designed for himself.

In *Zombie Genesis*, the player was not just an ordinary survivor. The character had been deliberately crafted to strike fear into the hearts of both zombies and humans alike. It was a deliberate design choice, one Aeon had made while developing the game. Every movement, every action of the player character was calculated to send an instinctive chill down the spine of anyone—or anything—unfortunate enough to cross their path.

Zombies, no matter how mindless, felt it first. In the game, the higher-ranked zombies—Zombie Emperor, King, and Bosses—instinctively recognized the player as a threat, something beyond human comprehension, and they acted accordingly. Lower-tier zombies might attack mindlessly, but the elites hesitated, aware of the danger the player posed. It wasn't just strength; it was something primal, an aura of invincibility that made the player feared by all.

Aeon smirked, recalling how he had intentionally coded that feature into the game. "Fear is a powerful tool," he had thought at the time. And now, in this twisted reality, it seemed that tool had followed him but he needed to confirm it to be sure.

It wasn't just the zombies, though. In the game, the player character was also designed to evoke fear in hostile humans—gangs, and anyone who thought they could prey on the weak in the midst of an apocalypse. Aeon had ensured that whenever the player encountered these types of enemies, their confidence would waver. He'd given the character an intimidating presence, with piercing eyes that seemed to strip away any semblance of hope. Anyone who faced the player knew, deep down, that they were facing something they couldn't beat. And in the end, they really lose.

*But the real twist...* Aeon thought, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, *was the immunity.*

In the game, the player was more than just a powerful warrior. He had made himself *immune* to zombie bites, scratches, and any form of infection. No matter how many zombies swarmed, they couldn't turn him. It had been his trump card, a way to ensure survival in a world where the virus had ravaged humanity. This immunity extended to poisons as well. Aeon had designed the character to be unkillable by toxins, ensuring that no enemy could use underhanded tactics to take the player down.

And now, in this eerie reflection of the game, Aeon wanted to confirm that these characteristics had bled into his own reality. So far, no zombie had even dared to bite him, as if they sensed the futility. Layla, too, had noticed—her sharp gaze often lingering on him with suspicion. She wasn't stupid. She knew something was off about him, but she hadn't pressed the issue. Yet.

He glanced over at her. Layla stood as still as ever, her arms crossed, scanning the room. She was the regressor, the one who had lived through this nightmare repeatedly. And in every iteration, she had survived. Aeon wondered how much she had seen in her previous loops, and whether she'd ever encountered someone like him before. Someone who didn't just survive, but thrived in the chaos.

*Then again,* Aeon mused, *I'm not just someone.*

Layla was powerful—there was no denying that. In the game, Aeon had designed the heroine to be nearly unstoppable, an unyielding force against both the zombie hordes and human enemies. She had been built to complement the player, balancing ruthless efficiency with loyalty. Together, the player and the heroine were meant to be an unstoppable duo, an elite team capable of tearing through hordes and toppling zombie bosses with ease.

But Layla in reality... she was different. She was cold, and ruthless, just like the heroine in the game, but her loyalty was absent—or at least, it wasn't directed at Aeon. She did her own thing, and followed her own instincts. And while she worked with the group, she wasn't devoted to anyone.

*Not yet,* Aeon thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. *But that could change.*

He had created a version of himself that was immune to everything the world could throw at him. In a sense, he was *invincible*—a character who would never be defeated or infected, never succumb to poison, and never be defeated by fear. He had designed himself to be a living nightmare for the zombies and for anyone foolish enough to challenge him.

This was his world now, and most of the game's rules had bled into reality. so he must be brave to confirm his theories 

"immunity of the player...."

Aeon straightened up and walked toward the exit door, his mind piecing together the next steps. He had to keep playing the role of the leader, for now. But he knew that at the heart of everything, he was still the player—the one who controlled the game's outcome. BUT THAT MUST BE CONFIRMED IN A LIFE DEATH SITUATION....

"I'm going to scout the area," Aeon announced suddenly, drawing everyone's attention.

Aria looked up from her weapon, concern flickering in her eyes. "By yourself? That's risky."

Aeon shrugged. "Not really. I'll be fine."

Layla's eyes narrowed. She said nothing, but Aeon could feel her scrutiny. She knew there was something more to him than he let on. But for now, she didn't press. Maybe she was waiting, or maybe she didn't care.

"I'll go with you," Aria said, standing up, her hand on her gun. There was that lingering attachment again, the unspoken bond between them. Aeon didn't need it, but he knew how to use it.

"No," he said firmly, his eyes locking onto hers. "Stay here. I'll be quicker on my own."

Aria hesitated, then nodded, reluctantly sitting back down. The rest of the group watched him in silence, not questioning his decision. Aeon had that effect on them—their instinctive fear and respect, just like in the game.

As Aeon headed toward the door, Luna finally spoke, her voice cold and sharp. "Be careful."

Aeon glanced over his shoulder, meeting her gaze. "Always."

With that, he stepped out into the desolate world beyond, his mind already spinning with strategies. If He was the player, the one who was meant to win this game. No matter how twisted reality had become, Aeon knew one thing for sure:

He was not going to lose.