Apocalyptic System: Raka's Revival

99% Death Probability

"One more step, and it's all over," Raka whispered to himself.

The wet asphalt felt rough beneath his trembling palms. The metallic stench of blood mixed with the scent of rain-soaked earth, creating a suffocating tightness in his chest. Raka dragged his broken right leg, producing a sickening scraping sound in the silence of the narrow alley. The bone protruding through his jeans was no longer just pain; it was a death knell that kept ringing.

Why now? he thought while coughing, spitting thick red liquid onto the ground. Why does my life have to end in a dumpster like this?

Behind him, the sound of shuffling footsteps grew clearer. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. The sound was irregular, heavy, and filled with an unspeakable hunger. Raka turned his head slightly, just enough to see long shadows dancing on the alley walls, reflected by a flickering, dying streetlight.

"Go... get away from me!" Raka screamed, his voice hoarse and cracking.

However, the scream only acted as a magnet. A raspy groan answered from the darkness. A creature with a half-destroyed face emerged from behind a pile of cardboard boxes, its whitening eyes staring blankly at Raka. It was the neighborhood chief who used to scold him for being late with his trash fees. Now, the man was just a lump of rotting flesh craving his pulse.

"Help... anyone..." Raka crawled faster, ignoring the searing pain spreading to his waist.

He reached the end of the alley, only to find a high concrete wall blocking his path. A dead end. Raka leaned against the cold wall, gasping for air, his chest heaving wildly. He looked up at the gray night sky, then back at the horde of zombies now only five meters away.

So, this is what total failure feels like, Raka thought. Failing at work, failing at life, and now failing to die in peace.

The lead zombie, formerly a young man in a leather jacket, lunged with unexpected speed. Its mouth hung wide open, revealing rows of yellow teeth stained with human remains. Raka closed his eyes, waiting for the final pain that would tear his throat apart.

Ding.

A metallic chiming sound echoed inside his head, silencing all the noise of the outside world.

[System Initialization starting...]

[Scanning subject: Raka Pratama...]

[Condition: Near Death (HP: 1/100)...]

[Death Probability: 99%...]

Time seemed to slow down. The zombie's movement froze in mid-air, like a movie forcibly paused. A transparent neon-blue screen appeared right in front of Raka's face, emitting a blinding light in the darkness of the alley.

"What... what is this?" Raka muttered, his eyes wide as he stared at the floating lines of text. "A hallucination? Am I already dead?"

[Apocalyptic System activated.]

[You have been selected as 'Player' serial number 004-ID.]

[Emergency Mission: Survive or Perish.]

[Reward: Basic Recovery and First Skill.]

[Failure: Permanent Death.]

"Survive?" Raka laughed bitterly, even though his chest felt tight. "Look at my leg! How can I survive in this condition!"

[Warning: Pause time will end in 3... 2... 1...]

Ziiing!

The world moved at full speed again. The zombie lunged once more. Raka reacted without thinking, a primal instinct suddenly surging from the depths of his soul. He tilted his head slightly, and the zombie's teeth were only millimeters from his ear. The foul stench of the creature's breath filled his lungs.

"Damn you!" Raka shouted, his hands fumbling over the asphalt until they found a piece of rusted iron from a dismantled shelf.

He slammed the iron into the zombie's chest, but his strength was too weak. The creature didn't even flinch; instead, it gripped Raka's shoulders with its sharp, black claws.

[Warning! Remaining HP: 1%. External injuries detected. Severe bleeding.]

"I know! I know I'm going to die!" Raka screamed at the blue screen still floating in the corner of his eye. "Don't just give me warnings, do something!"

[Unlocking access to survival instincts...]

[Status 'Adrenaline Rush' automatically activated.]

Suddenly, the pain in his leg vanished miraculously, replaced by a wave of heat surging through his entire body. His heart pounded so hard his ears rang. Raka felt his vision sharpen. He could see every pore of the rotting skin on the zombie's face, every gap between its blood-stained fangs.

"You want to eat me?" Raka growled, his eyes burning with a long-suppressed rage. "Eat this, you bastard!"

With a strength a dying man shouldn't possess, Raka drove the tip of the rusted iron into the zombie's left eye. The iron pierced the eye socket, shattered the skull, and plunged deep into the decaying brain tissue.

The zombie jerked violently. Its grip on Raka's shoulders loosened. Its body stiffened for a moment before finally going limp and collapsing onto Raka's broken leg.

[Target neutralized.]

[Gained 10 EXP.]

[Congratulations! You have leveled up to Level 2!]

A thin golden light enveloped Raka's body for a second. A warm sensation flowed through his shattered bones, and although his leg wasn't fully healed, the pain was now much more bearable. Raka pushed the zombie's corpse away, trying to sit upright while leaning against the concrete wall.

"Level up?" he whispered, staring at his hands covered in thick, black blood. "This... this really is like a game?"

However, before he could breathe a sigh of relief, more groans echoed from the mouth of the alley. Five, ten, maybe even more zombies began to crawl in, drawn by the scent of fresh blood and Raka's earlier screams.

[Main Mission Part 1 begins: Bloody Tutorial.]

[Objective: Kill 10 zombies within 60 minutes.]

[Reward: Skill 'Predator's Eye'.]

[Kill count: 1/10.]

Raka gripped his rusted iron more tightly. He was no longer the loser who could only lament his fate in his cramped rented room. Something inside him had snapped, or perhaps it had just reconnected after being extinguished for so long.

"Only ten?" Raka smirked wildly, despite the cold sweat pouring down his forehead. "Come on, then. I'll show you what a man with nothing left to lose can do."

He tried to stand, dragging his still-limping leg, welcoming the crowd of death that now felt like an opportunity to rise again.