Chapter 2: Personal Interest

While the world descended into chaos, the rich and powerful—along with high-ranking government officials—saw an opportunity. Behind closed doors, in the most secure and classified research facilities, captured zombies were subjected to brutal experimentation. Scientists, once bound by ethical constraints, now operated with complete freedom, driven by desperation, greed, and the pursuit of power.

It was in these secret labs that the greatest breakthrough was made: Chaos Hearts. These crystalline cores, found embedded within the chests or brains of the zombies, pulsed with a strange, otherworldly energy. Unlike anything humanity had ever encountered, Chaos Hearts could be used in countless ways. They could power machinery beyond conventional technology, enhance human capabilities, and even be weaponized.

The discovery sent shockwaves through the inner circles of power. While the common people still fought for survival, the elites saw a new age dawning—one where those who controlled Chaos Hearts would rule the world.

But there was a catch. Chaos Hearts could only be harvested from zombies, and the strongest ones came from the most mutated, the ones with abilities. Hunting them was incredibly dangerous, but for those willing to take the risk, the rewards were immense. 

The rich and powerful, true to their nature, kept the discovery of Chaos Hearts a closely guarded secret. While the common people fought, bled, and died for survival, believing they were battling for the greater good of humanity, a select few saw this crisis as an opportunity. Governments, corporations, and private organizations were no longer concerned with simply ending the zombie threat—they were focused on monopolizing it.

In secret, the elites hoarded Chaos Hearts, refining them for their own purposes— advancing their technology and securing influence that would last for generations. Those in power ensured that the knowledge of Chaos Hearts and their potential never reached the public. Information was controlled, rumors were dismissed as conspiracy theories, and anyone attempting to expose the truth quietly disappeared.

Meanwhile, crackdowns on research labs intensified. The government, unable to determine the true source of the outbreak, launched aggressive raids, shutting down both authorized and illegal laboratories. Entire facilities were razed, and any scientist suspected of unauthorized experiments was imprisoned or executed. While officials claimed these actions were meant to prevent the spread of the infection, in reality, they were just as desperate as everyone else.

The world's greatest minds were conscripted against their will, forced to work in hidden government facilities under constant surveillance. Rogue scientists who tried to escape with classified data were hunted down. But despite all the secrecy, no one could answer the most pressing question: Where had the first zombies truly come from?

Governments pointed fingers at one another, accusing rival nations of biological warfare. Conspiracy theorists claimed the outbreak was orchestrated by the elites to reshape society in their favor. 

Everything changed when a dimensional portal tore open above a struggling African nation—Zimbabwe. Unlike the sporadic outbreaks that had appeared across the world, this event was undeniable. A swirling vortex of chaotic energy hung in the sky, crackling with an unnatural glow, visible even from neighboring countries. From its depths, zombies rained down, spilling into cities and towns.

Panic erupted immediately. Entire neighborhoods were overrun within hours, as the undead swarmed through streets, tearing apart everything in their path. The local police and military, unprepared for the sheer numbers and enhanced abilities of these creatures, were annihilated. Those who tried to fight were crushed under the weight of the horde. Those who ran had nowhere to go.

The world watched in horror as Zimbabwe became the first country to face a full-scale invasion. But instead of organizing a proper defense, the ruling class—already notorious for corruption and self-serving policies—prioritized their own safety above all else. The government's first order was not to protect civilians but to ensure the security of their private estates, vaults, and hidden bunkers. Soldiers were redirected away from high-risk areas, leaving entire cities defenseless.

Yet, on the international stage, the government played the role of desperate victim. Their leaders wept in televised broadcasts, pleading with the world for military aid, humanitarian assistance, and financial support. They painted a picture of helplessness while, in reality, they fortified their own strongholds, leaving the common people to fend for themselves.

Within hours, Zimbabwe descended into absolute chaos. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the world was left with a horrifying realization—this was no ordinary infection. The zombies weren't just appearing randomly anymore. They were coming from somewhere. And that meant someone or something had opened the floodgates.

Videos flooded the internet, capturing the true horror of the outbreak. Live-streamed footage, shaky phone recordings, and drone surveillance all painted the same picture—streets littered with corpses, homes burning in the distance, and desperate cries for help echoing through the ruins of civilization. But the most chilling part wasn't the carnage. It was what happened next.

Men, women, and children—torn apart, limbs missing, throats slashed—suddenly began to move again. Their shredded bodies twitched as if something inside was stitching them back together. Then, with inhuman speed, they lunged at the living.

A father holding his dying child watched in horror as her eyes turned milky white, her small fingers clawing into his flesh the next moment. Even those who had been missing vital organs—hearts, chunks of their heads—rose with eerie purpose.

The world was horrified, yet at the same time, slow to act.

World leaders gathered in urgent meetings, debating on the best course of action. Security councils convened, think tanks provided assessments, and political analysts debated the potential outcomes. However, in the midst of all the discussions, one unspoken reality dictated the pace of decision-making: It was Africa.

Unlike previous global crises where powerful nations responded swiftly—either out of economic interest or political alliances—Zimbabwe had little to offer. Its economy was primarily based on agriculture, with minor mining industries that barely scratched the global market. It lacked the rare minerals that made intervention "strategically necessary." There were no major oil reserves and no industries vital to international economies. To many, the country was an afterthought—a humanitarian crisis, but not a strategic priority.

And all the while, Zimbabwe burned.

Four hours into the high-stakes global summit, the doors to the meeting chambers burst open. Zimbabwean officials, their faces pale with terror, hurried in, barely bothering with formalities. Their carefully rehearsed pleas for aid had been replaced with raw panic.

"The infection has spread," one of them gasped, his voice barely steady. "We—our own families—our cousins, our siblings... They're turning."

The room, filled with diplomats, presidents, and military commanders, fell into tense silence. Just hours ago, they had debated intervention as if discussing theoretical scenarios, weighing risks and resources with calculated detachment. But now, reality was breaking down at an alarming rate.

Satellite imagery displayed on the massive screens showed Zimbabwe's cities engulfed in chaos. Entire streets were overrun, military checkpoints had collapsed, and what little law enforcement remained was either fleeing or turning their weapons on the infected in vain. Even the elite presidential guards, trained to withstand any uprising, had been overwhelmed.

Despite the growing severity of the crisis, world leaders remained hesitant. The collapse of Zimbabwe was undoubtedly alarming, but for many of them, it was still a distant disaster—one that hadn't yet breached their borders. They expressed concern in meetings, but their actions were slow, weighed down by bureaucracy, political calculations, and the ever-present question: How does this affect us?

Even as stock markets reacted, with some industries suffering losses due to global uncertainty, the reluctance to intervene remained. To them, this was still a problem of the developing world, an unfortunate but manageable tragedy—until it wasn't.

Then came the footage that shattered any illusions of control.

A live-streamed broadcast emerged from inside Zimbabwe's presidential estate.