Chapter 33: Who Killed Carrie?

"Ding—congratulations, Host. You've obtained a supply card: [A Pack of BBQ Seasoning].""Ding—congratulations, Host. You've obtained a supply card: [A Power Bank at 50% Battery].""Ding—congratulations, Host. You've obtained a Bronze‑Grade tool: [Reconnaissance Eye].""Ding—congratulations, Host. You've obtained a supply card: [Delicious Crab Patty]."…

The moment Alexander drew near the zombie corpses, a torrent of notifications flooded his ears. He was momentarily stunned, unable to catch what exactly he'd received.

"This Auto‑Loot is handy, but that notification spam is ridiculous," Alexander grumbled.

"Ding—apologies. The system did not consider the Host's experience. Now optimizing the Auto‑Loot cheat.""Ding—Auto‑Loot optimized. From now on, only equipment and tools will be announced. Supply cards will be auto‑sorted in your storage space."

"Great—much appreciated," Alexander remarked with delight. He glanced at his storage space to find that indeed, all the supply cards were neatly organized in stacks. The leftmost stack was food, while the others were water, tools, junk, etc. The categories were detailed and user‑friendly, saving him from rummaging through a huge pile of cards next time.

From the newly auto‑looted items, aside from a [Reconnaissance Eye], there wasn't anything special. Unconcerned, Alexander left the tennis court. Checking the time, he saw it was already noon.

"Ah, miscalculation."

He'd intended to just open a silver chest on the third floor, but ended up encountering that zombie cat, losing quite a bit of time. With the day half gone, there was no time for a leisurely lunch—he needed to hurry to the Derek Estate. And this time, he wouldn't have to provoke the hundreds of zombies on the first floor. Because…

Alexander simply opened a window along the hallway, then leapt out. By all logic, jumping from the second floor of a sports center was extremely risky: not only was the second floor built higher than typical floors (a drop of over ten meters), but the crash upon landing would surely draw a crowd of zombies.

But he had "Brief Suspension."

Outside, Alexander plunged rapidly toward the ground, his White Wing Cloak flapping wildly in the wind. Mere moments before his handsome face collided with the earth, he activated "Brief Suspension." The swift descent abruptly slowed. With a mid‑air 180 flip, Alexander landed squarely on both feet.

He slipped on his Hidden Mask again. Though he didn't activate the effect that concealed his stats, at this early stage of the apocalypse—when people rarely checked attributes anyway—this mask was a perfect way to hide his identity.

At the Derek Estate

In a lavish living room, Derek lounged on a woman's lap while another woman massaged him.

"Why aren't they back yet? Are we feeding them for nothing? It's been all morning just to find two people?"

Just a moment earlier, Derek was playfully flirting with one of the women; the next, he slapped her across the face and roared in anger. The silver‑haired butler, Edgar, stepped forward and calmly said, "Young Master, the Hunter Mercenary Team only left for Modu University at seven this morning. That campus is swarming with zombies and rife with chaos, so it's naturally difficult to search."

"Damn it—zombies again! I'm so sick of these zombies!" Derek snarled. "What kind of crappy setting is this? Obviously I killed those zombies—why am I not getting any XP?" he shouted at the sky in frustration.

It turned out that once Derek learned leveling up in the apocalypse would boost his attributes, he was quite intrigued. His body was somewhat frail, so powering up sounded like a good plan. He ordered his men to half‑maim the zombies so he could finish them off personally. But after killing ten zombies, he'd gained only a single point of XP. He didn't even manage to level, and nearly exhausted his weak constitution.

Derek didn't realize this was a special rule in the apocalypse game to prevent high‑level players from power‑leveling lower‑level ones. All XP is determined by how much you personally contribute to the kill, so trying to "cheat" or snipe kills is tough.

Just as Derek's fury peaked, the villa's grand doors swung open. A man dressed in black tactical gear stepped inside, lugging a bulky black bag that smelled faintly of blood.

"Ron, you're back. Did you find that little wench and that orphan?" Derek pressed him urgently.

"Young Master, we found the woman. The man wasn't there," the black‑clad man replied, tossing the heavy bag to the floor with an indifferent tone.

Derek's eyes lit up at hearing they'd found Carrie—but soured upon learning Alexander was missing.

"She's found? Where is she? Have her crawl over here—daring to hide from me!" Derek's face darkened.

"She's right here," Ron said, gesturing at the black bag he'd dropped.

"Right here?" Derek repeated, not comprehending.

"Following the info you provided, we found a still‑living roommate in her dorm. That roommate said this woman left earlier, muttering something like 'So unlucky. I still need to go to that abandoned warehouse behind the field.' So we swept the entire abandoned warehouse. Finally, in a large barrel, we found her corpse—along with a man's shirt, soaked in blood," Ron explained.

Derek didn't respond. He simply moved forward and unzipped the bag. Instantly, a dense stench of blood assaulted him. Inside lay a corpse, brutally tortured beyond recognition, with Carrie's bloodied head covered in carved markings, her eyes bulging in a final, horrified stare.

Derek lost it. "Urgh—" He promptly threw up onto the bag. He'd always fancied himself adept at torturing and killing—child's play, really—but faced with such a revolting scene, even he couldn't stand it. The foul, yellowish vomit splattered all over Carrie's head, effectively giving her a "facial wash."

The two women behind Derek fainted on the spot. Meanwhile, Ron maintained a stoic expression and said, "Judging by the wounds on her body, the cuts around her neck, and the mutilation—she underwent extremely brutal torture before death. Every injury targeted the nerves most sensitive to pain, even certain acupuncture points from Dragon Kingdom traditions. Not even a professionally trained killer could achieve such precision.

"Moreover, each stab seemed to involve an extremely specialized vibrating technique that shredded the surrounding muscle into pulp. I've collaborated with the so‑called world's top assassin 'Wraith,' and even he wouldn't match this level of cruelty.

"Unimaginably vicious torture, a terrifyingly lethal blade technique, and at the same time, hatred toward this woman so profound it drove the killer to the extreme. So, Young Master—do you have any idea who might have killed her?"