Evolve

It was dark.

When John Carter woke up, he looked out the window and saw countless stars twinkling in the night sky. Under this peaceful canopy, how many people were quietly dying? Suddenly, he felt an odd sensation—why did his body feel less stiff when he stood up than it used to?

How strange! As the burning sensation in his eyes gradually softened, as his surgical knife now felt easy to grip, and as his clenched fist could smash hard concrete without hesitation, John suddenly realized: it must be that strange red tumor in that hulking zombie's brain that has helped him evolve!

He looked down at the swollen, bizarre muscle on his arm. His skin, once grayish-white, now had a faint reddish hue.

Rushing to a mirror, he saw that the man staring back was still a zombie: his golden hair was a messy tumble, his skin was a mix of gray and red with bulging veins, and his blue eyes still had a bloodshot glare. His mouth was filled with sharp teeth. The deep wound on his thigh hadn't healed yet—its pale, soft scar was like that of a baby, but it would forever bear a patch of rotting flesh.

Fortunately, the wound was hidden on the inside of his thigh, so once he put on pants it wouldn't be obvious. And although his body hadn't been scratched or bitten by any other zombies—retaining a basic human form—it was obvious to anyone that he wasn't normal anymore: his bloodshot eyes, grayish skin, exposed veins… and the way he shuffled along like an old man with broken legs.

Suddenly, a thought struck John: maybe that red tumor in the zombie's brain was the key to his evolution, giving him a power beyond that of ordinary zombies. He decided to label this state "Level 2: Butcher."

Excited, John paced back and forth in his room, feeling an endless surge of energy that left him utterly tireless.

When he finally noticed that the door was open, he realized that the woman from earlier had apparently escaped.

"What a shame," he thought, "I was hoping to keep her around for some company, but she turned out to be ungrateful…" Of course, no sane person would choose to share a room with a zombie.

With night fully upon him, it was time for John's hunt. Brimming with confidence, he pushed open the door and carefully checked all the passages upstairs and downstairs to make sure no other humans were spying. Once he was sure, he slowly lowered his raised surgical knife and began his descent.

Sometimes, in the apocalypse, human nature can be far more terrifying than zombies themselves.

Downstairs, the place was still desolate. The wind howled fiercely, trash flew about with every gust, and groups of mindless zombies wandered around—mostly just the slow, ordinary kind.

Suddenly, John spotted a tall, unusually agile zombie ambling over. To his surprise, this one was clutching a common household kitchen knife! It amazed him—here he could barely hold onto his little surgical knife, yet this zombie could easily swing a knife weighing over a pound! When it swung, its murderous aura seemed to freeze the very air around it.

In the slanting afternoon light, as shadows grew longer, John and the knife-wielding zombie locked eyes, and an intense, explosive energy filled the air. Clearly, this zombie wasn't just a mindless beast—it seemed to have a rudimentary form of thought.

"Using tools—that's what sets humans apart from animals..." John frowned as he coldly stared at the zombie. The creature glared back fiercely, drooling in a way that made John's skin crawl, sparks practically flying from its menace.

With a menacing hiss, the knife-wielding zombie attacked first. Its gleaming kitchen knife whistled through the air as it charged at John.

Alert as ever, John twisted his body just in time to dodge that deadly swing. Seizing the opportunity, he flashed his surgical knife and plunged it into the zombie's waist. Dark blood slowly seeped out as the zombie looked down at its wound before erupting in a deafening roar aimed at John. The kitchen knife began to swing faster and faster.

John dodged left and right, barely evading the furious strikes. His surgical knife tried to counterattack several times, but each effort was blocked by the zombie's iron-hard arm. Suddenly, John realized: this guy might be even stronger than he was! His knife only managed to make shallow cuts, and in a split second of distraction, the kitchen-knife zombie struck again—its knife slicing through the air like a gust of wind. John turned his head slightly, and in that instant, a searing pain shot through his shoulder as the knife dug into his skin and sliced through muscle, finally jamming against his shoulder blade.

Fortunately, the zombie's strength hadn't yet reached a lethal level—otherwise, that blow would have ended John's life. Taking advantage of the moment when the knife was stuck in his shoulder, John howled and fiercely stabbed his surgical knife at the zombie's neck.

Though the creature possessed some intelligence, upon seeing this, it immediately dropped its kitchen knife, took a swift step back to dodge that lightning-fast stab, and then opened its mouth wide, preparing to pounce on John.

Even though zombies now had a semblance of thought, they were no match for John's cunning human intellect. Realizing the danger, John desperately flung his surgical knife away. The blade soared through the air in a perfect arc and plunged straight into the zombie's right eye.

The zombie let out a gut-wrenching, ear-splitting scream. Though the blade didn't fully penetrate its brain, it was enough to rob the creature of its sight. The pained zombie, its bloodshot eyes wide with agony, staggered closer, its sharp steel teeth seemingly ready to tear John's heart out.

As John backed away, he realized that relying solely on brute strength wouldn't be enough to overcome this kitchen-knife zombie. Without his surgical knife, how could he fight back? His bloodthirsty instincts made him panic, but his survival instinct kept him clear-headed.

Taking a deep breath, John gripped the remnants of the kitchen knife that was lodged in his shoulder and, summoning every bit of strength, pried it free. With the grating sound of tearing flesh, he almost passed out from the pain—but his unyielding will made him grit his teeth and press on.

Finally, with a soul-wrenching roar, John pulled out that heavy kitchen knife.

"Your weapon is mine now!" he declared.

As dark blood slowly dripped down his body, he struggled to stand, a cold smile playing on his lips. Without a trace of fear, he leapt forward to meet the lunging kitchen-knife zombie.

…

In his room, John swallowed the blood-red tumor he had taken from the zombie.

That's right—this so-called "kitchen-knife" zombie clearly belonged to an evolved breed. Its brain must have harbored that very blood clot which triggers evolution in zombies.

His limbs felt as if they were on fire, his organs burning, and his wounds looked like they were about to burst open—like experiencing a form of torture.

The excruciating pain of evolution could make even the toughest warrior scream, and even break the strongest will—but strangely, that pain also brought a near-rapturous thrill, so vivid and real.

Now, even if a staircase stretching forty-eight stories high lay ahead, it no longer filled him with despair.

In this world, strength is the only way to survive. Who wants their life to always be in danger? And who would choose to live under someone else's boot, barely scraping by?

Ever since John discovered that swallowing the red tumor from a powerful zombie could evolve him, he had made up his mind to become unbelievably strong—so strong that every zombie would bow before him!

John firmly believed that if he evolved just one or two more levels, combining that with his human smarts, he'd ascend to the very top of the zombie world. Every burst of excruciating pain, although it made him scream, was silently forging his body and will.

His massive arms grew even more muscular, now storing more strength than most ordinary humans could ever muster.