Chapter 8: Guests Arrive

Harvey's eyes were alert as he signaled everyone to stay quiet and hide.

Not far away, a group of over a dozen second and third-level zombies were angrily roaring at a specific point.

The team members were startled but quickly followed Harvey's signal to retreat, planning to take a detour back to the base.

"Bad luck," Belle muttered, glaring at the air, cursing the one responsible for causing the zombies to go wild.

Harvey stayed at the rear, occasionally checking to see if the zombies noticed them.

Their team wasn't strong, and with two support-type girls, all they could do was run and hope they weren't spotted.

Surviving the apocalypse was enough; self-sacrifice was for fools, as far as Harvey was concerned.

He recalled someone with an abundance of resources, selling them cheaply—a fool who didn't hide their treasures.

He feared that once those supplies were submitted to the higher-ups, it would draw unwanted attention. How could a thin girl protect them?

Harvey brushed away his regret.

He wanted to keep the secret but...

He glanced at Belle's back. Her father held a position and was competing for leadership, desperate for achievements.

Belle was considering this too.

She thought about keeping the secret to secure her future, but she knew her father's obsession with power.

Before the apocalypse, he was a minor official, frustrated at not being promoted. He adapted quickly when the base recruited people, trading their food for a position.

After drinking too much once, he cried about his wife's sacrifices, claiming he owed everything to her.

And what did Belle do? She poured him another drink.

Shaking her head, Belle forced herself not to dwell on it.

---

"Tate, they're gone," Lucas said, shifting his aim.

"Good, let's move." Tate took a deep drag from his cigarette and picked up his katana, blowing smoke over it.

Lucas sniped the highest-level zombie, killing it instantly.

Tate jumped from the second floor, landing smoothly, and attacked the zombies with deadly precision.

With the level 3 zombie gone, the rest were no match for a level 3 ability user.

In about two minutes, the one-sided slaughter ended.

Lucas slung his rifle over his shoulder and started collecting crystal cores with Tate.

"Tate, we got a lot. Should we rest at the nearest base?"

"We need more cores. The heat season's coming, and it'll be hard to go out."

Lucas realized it was nearly July, when temperatures soared to 60 or 70 degrees.

"Let's go!" he urged, speeding up.

The area was zombie-rich, supplying nearby bases with crystal cores.

With the heat season approaching, many teams and solo fighters were out.

Fortunately, there were enough zombies to prevent fights over resources.

After another round of collecting, Tate wiped sweat from his brow and whispered, "That lone fighter earlier was a level 5."

Lucas choked on his water. "What?! Level 5?!"

Tate nodded with admiration. "Absolutely! Such a strong presence! I hope I can reach level 5 someday."

Becoming powerful was every ability user's dream.

It was his third time seeing a level 5. Given time, he would rise too.

"We'd better avoid them. If even level 5s are collecting cores, maybe they know this heat season will be rough?"

Lucas's face turned serious, a sense of crisis rising.

Tate's excitement faded, remembering the heat season two years ago.

"Not again..."

They shivered, killing zombies with renewed urgency.

---

**[A Customer Knocks Outside]**

Charlotte, lounging comfortably on the sofa, heard the system alert.

Hmm? Did that team come back?

She left her cozy spot, slipped on her slippers, and walked out.

In the hallway, she heard knocking clearly.

"Coming!" she called out.

"Please, don't break the glass!"

Outside, a tall man in black, wearing a mask and hat, was staring at her.

Charlotte took the key from the counter and opened the door.

"Please step back," she said, waving him back.

The man obeyed, glancing at the sign: Vacation Inn? Newly opened?

Through the glass, he saw the vending machines and a water dispenser full of water.

The young female owner looked clean, well-dressed, and unscathed.

But he couldn't determine her level.

"Are you here to stay?" Charlotte asked, pointing to the price list behind the counter.

A single room was 30 points a night, and a double was 50.

The inn had upgraded its facilities, so prices were higher.

The man read silently, his dark eyes studying her. "Can I see the room first?"

An unusual request.

Charlotte was struck by his deep, resonant voice. "Of course. Single or double?"

"Double."

"Please follow me."

Charlotte led the way.

He glanced at the open door, curious about her confidence.

She seemed so fragile, her neck delicate.

The girl turned suddenly, and he looked away casually.

"I highly recommend this room. It's well-lit," Charlotte said brightly.