Time seemed to freeze in the ruined courtyard of Porong Prison. The air, previously vibrating from the clash of two systems, now felt hollow, leaving only the sound of Satria’s ragged breathing and the gurgling of Alexander’s punctured lungs.Satria stood tall, his chest heaving rapidly. The Overdrive effect that had burned through his remaining HP began to fade, replaced by waves of excruciating pain from the stab wounds in his stomach and waist. His vision, once burning red, slowly returned to a weary gold. He looked down at Alexander, sprawled on the ground, broken and helpless. One major enemy had fallen.But this war wasn't over.Slowly, with a movement that felt as heavy as lifting a mountain, Satria turned his head. His sharp, lethal gaze swept the field, passing over the obediently bowed zombie corpses, until it finally locked onto the only threat left standing.Andy.On the edge of the arena, which was now nothing more than a pile of rubble, Andy froze. He was still on his kn

"IF I HAVE TO DIE..." Alexander's hoarse voice, filled with madness, crept through the air, breaking the silence following Andy’s torture. Every eye—from Cindy, Tri, Sarah, Jessica, the wounded Abigail, to the survivors peeking from the bunker slits—locked onto one point: a round object the size of an egg, pale green and pulsing horribly in the trembling hand of the Necromancer. The object was alive. Thin veins were visible beneath its semi-transparent surface, beating in rhythm with Alexander's dying heart. It wasn't just a bomb; it was the heart of a plague, a concentrated Spore Bomb. "...THEN ALL OF YOU WILL ROT WITH ME IN THIS HELL!" Outside the shattered prison walls, the remnants of Alexander's human forces—looters and killers who had been hiding behind tank and truck barricades—watched the scene with bated breath. They saw their King defeated, his army hijacked, a

The sound of the EKG monitor was like the countdown of a terrifying time bomb. Beep......... Beep......... Beep......... The gaps between heartbeats grew longer, creating a torturous silence inside the Emergency Medical Tent. The air felt heavy, reeking of the metallic tang of fresh blood, rubbing alcohol, and the cold sweat of panic. On the blood-soaked folding table, Satria lay stiff. His muscular, scarred body looked deathly pale, almost translucent like melting wax. His broad chest, usually rising and falling with the powerful breath of life, was now barely moving. The gaping wound in his stomach—the result of Alexander’s bone sword which carried necrotic energy—refused to close, even though Sarah had already used up two rolls of surgical thread. "No response!" Sarah shouted, her voice cracking with frustration. Her hands trembled violently as she gripped an empty adrenaline syr

The bright morning sunlight on the third day after the war felt like a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere in the central courtyard of Porong Prison. Thousands of zombie corpses had been cleared out and burned in a massive pit outside the walls, leaving behind a stinging scent of charred flesh mixed with concrete dust. In the center of the field, hundreds of survivors gathered. Their faces were dirty, exhausted, and filled with vengeance. They formed a large circle, like a Roman Colosseum, waiting for the final spectacle. Luis, Rizal, and Bima stood in the front row, weapons at the ready, keeping the angry mob from storming in before the "Judge" arrived. The main building's doors opened. Satria walked out. He wasn't wearing armor or a military uniform. He wore only a plain black t-shirt and clean cargo pants, yet the aura radiating from him was more intimidating than when he was in Overdrive. His p