Three hundred meters on a Google Maps app might take a healthy, normal person only two minutes to walk. But in the post-apocalyptic world, on the asphalt of the Jakarta Highway—now a mass grave of metal and flesh—those three hundred meters felt like crossing the Antarctic continent without a jacket.The sun beat down fiercely, as if trying to roast anyone foolish enough to venture out in broad daylight. The air shimmered with heat, creating mirages above the abandoned car hoods."Check position," Elian's voice crackled over the walkie-talkie clipped to Rico's shoulder."Clear ahead. Lots of wreckage, but passable," Rico replied. He was in the lead, riding his modified KLX dirt bike. He drove slowly, his feet dragging on the asphalt to maintain balance while maneuvering through the narrow gap between two crashed TransJakarta buses.Behind Rico, the convoy moved like an obese caterpillar.Elian walked as the Vanguard, his iron pipe restin

The shards of glass from the third-floor balcony window crunched softly as Elian's boots stepped on them. He strode into the Skyline Tower building, followed by Vara and Rico, who were still panting after their deadly acrobatics on the overpass. The air inside was drastically different from the outside. Cold, dry, and smelling of... stale coffee. "Damn, it's freezing," Rico whispered, rubbing his goosebump-covered arms. "Is this building's generator on overkill or something? The AC feels like a morgue." "This is a private bank office," Vara replied, pointing to the *Sapphire Bank* logo on the reception wall in front of them. "The central AC automatically kicks on if the room temperature rises. And right now, there are a lot of 'bodies' raising the temperature." They were in the third-floor reception area. The room was spacious, floored with thick, dark blue carpet that muffled their footsteps. To the

"My name is Constantin," the old man said, lowering his violin bow. His clear blue eyes radiated a tired intelligence. "I am... let's just say, the last concierge of this building. Welcome to the fifth floor."Elian, Rico, and Vara stood stiffly in the doorway of the conference room, trying to process the unexpected sight. The conference room, which should have been filled with leather chairs and expensive projectors, had been converted into a mini refugee barracks. Makeshift beds made of stacked expensive suits were laid out on the floor. In the corner of the room, a small fire burned inside a metal trash can, used for warmth.Five small children, aged between six and ten, stared at them with large, curious eyes. The two women, perhaps their mothers or caretakers, immediately pulled the children behind their backs, wary."Are you... really human?" one of the women asked, her voice trembling."Genuine humans. Complete with motorcycle loan debt," Rico repl

The smell of ozone left by Elian's lightning mixed with the metallic scent of fresh blood and the pungent smell of gunpowder. Water from the sprinklers still dripped from the ceiling, creating a frightening symphony of water droplets in the tense silence. Everyone was frozen. On one side, Elian and his team stood in a puddle of water, surrounded by charred bat carcasses. On the other, Darius stood in a drier area, his smoking pistol now aimed at Elian's chest. Between them lay the body of a female volunteer who, just hours earlier, had been sharing sardine soup, now with a gaping hole in her forehead. "You... you shot her..." whispered an elderly male volunteer, his voice trembling with horror. He was the husband of the woman Darius had just executed. "She was bitten! She was a threat!" Darius snapped, his eyes wild. He tried to maintain his narrative, but his panic was obvious. He knew he had made a

The night wind on the roof of Skyline Tower blew fiercely, carrying the distant shrieks of the Night Skrieker still circling and the thundering footsteps of The Loader from the floors below. But for Elian, all those sounds faded, replaced by the pounding of his own heart and the hissing of the Stalkers surrounding him. "Is that all your strength, Lightning Brat?" General Azaroth's voice was cold and contemptuous from across the rooftop. The general stood haughtily, his bone sword resting on his shoulder. "You can't even light up a bulb right now." Elian grinned, trying to hide his ragged breathing. His HP was down to 40%, and every movement felt heavy. "I don't need lightning to handle masked lackeys like you." A Stalker lunged from the left, its movement almost silent. Its long, sharp claws were like scalpels, aimed at Elian's neck. Elian spun, slamming his iron pipe to parry. C