Survivor System: From Weak To Overlord

Chapter 3: Host Found!

Wilson stood alone in the cold, dim corridor, the flickering lights above casting long, trembling shadows across the cracked walls. 

The air smelled of dust, blood, and something rotten. His heart pounded in his chest, loud enough that he feared the monsters might hear it.

He looked around, Katie was gone. The woman who had dragged him this far, who had promised they’d survive together, had left him with nothing but an old fire axe and the echo of his own breathing.

“Why would she leave me like this?” Wilson whispered, his voice shaking. “Does she think I can fight them off with just this thing?”

He gripped the axe tighter, his palms slick with sweat. Somewhere down the hall, a low growl echoed. 

Then came the sound of something wet being torn apart. Flesh. Bone. A man’s final scream before silence.

Wilson froze. His knees felt weak, and he wanted to run, but where? Staying here meant death. Moving forward meant walking into hell.

He swallowed hard and forced his trembling legs to move. “Think, Wilson… think,” he muttered. His eyes darted to a red sign above a doorway: FIRE ESCAPE.

The thought hit him like lightning. “The second fire escape. That’s my only chance.”

He sprinted across the hall, his footsteps soft but hurried. The floor creaked under him, and every sound felt like a shout in the silence. 

When he reached the fire escape door, he found the stairwell dimly lit by emergency lights. Dust floated in the air.

The walls were half-painted, and tools were scattered everywhere, someone had been renovating before all this happened.

Wilson stepped carefully down the metal stairs. Each clang of his boots echoed like a death bell. 

His body tensed, expecting claws to grab him from the shadows at any second. “I just need to get out… just need to get home,” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

When he reached the fifth floor landing, he froze. The sound below was wet and ugly, chewing, groaning.

A thick, animal sound that didn’t belong in the world of the living. He leaned forward slightly, just enough to see through the gap in the stair rail.

There they were. A dozen zombies crouched over a body, tearing it apart. The air stank of decay and blood.

Wilson covered his mouth to keep from gagging. He noticed something strange, they hadn’t seen him. 

They were completely focused on their meal. Their heads twitched only when one of them made a sound. “They… they can’t see,” Wilson thought. “They go after sound.”

A tiny spark of hope flickered inside him. “If I’m quiet… they won’t know I’m here.”

He took a slow step forward, each movement deliberate, controlled. His boots brushed the floor softly, barely making a sound. His heart, though, felt too loud, like a drum beating in his ears.

‘I shouldn’t have taken this job,’ he thought bitterly. ‘If I was still home, with Mom and Emma, this wouldn’t have happened.’

He remembered his sister’s laugh, his mother’s tired but kind eyes, the smell of the bakery near their house.

He’d come to the city to earn money, to make their lives better, but now, it felt like that dream had dragged him into a nightmare.

As he neared the fire escape door, he saw two zombies hunched beside it, feeding on what looked like a security guard. The exit was right there, but blocked.

He had to think fast. He couldn’t fight them all. He could barely fight one, then an idea struck him. It was reckless. It was stupid. But it might just work.

Wilson gripped the axe tighter and swung it against the metal staircase railing. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The noise echoed through the stairwell. The zombies immediately stopped feeding. Their heads turned in unison, twitching toward the sound. Then, like starving wolves, they began to move.

“It worked,” Wilson whispered. “Now move, move, move, !”

He turned and ran down the stairs, his boots clanging against the steps. The groans grew louder behind him. They were fast, too fast.

He reached the next floor, but this one was worse. Wires hung down from the ceiling like vines, and broken tiles littered the floor. The smell of burnt plastic filled the air.

He ducked under a hanging beam, moving as quickly as he could without tripping. Behind him, the footsteps of the undead echoed closer. 

He risked a glance back, and stopped. They weren’t there.  “What the hell?” Wilson whispered. “They stopped?”

He listened. The groans had faded. Only silence remained. His chest heaved as he turned back toward the door in front of him. “Maybe they went the other way,” he murmured. “Maybe I, ”

He grabbed the door handle and pushed it open, only to freeze. Five zombies stood just beyond the doorway. Their faces twisted, eyes clouded white, skin grey and peeling.

Wilson tried to slam the door shut, but their arms shot through the gap. Rotten fingers clawed at his jacket, their teeth snapping inches from his face. “Oh shit!”

He shoved back with all his strength, the metal door screeching as they pushed harder. One of them hissed, its mouth dripping black blood.

He kicked the door, the impact rattling his bones. It gave him just enough space to slip free. He turned and sprinted down the hallway, lungs burning, vision blurring.

Behind him, the door burst open with a crash. The monsters were coming. Wilson didn’t look back. He couldn’t. Every step echoed with the sound of his own heartbeat.

He rounded a corner and heard voices, a miracle in the chaos. Real, human voices. “Did you hear that?” one whispered urgently. “Someone’s out there!”

“Don’t open the door,” another hissed. “He’s as good as dead.”

Wilson stumbled toward the sound, hope flickering inside him. He stopped in front of a metal door and banged on it. “Hey! Are you from the company upstairs? Please, let me in!”

There was a pause. Then a shaky voice answered, “Who are you? What do you want?”

“My name’s Wilson Summers! I work on the seventh floor. Please, I’m not infected, I just need somewhere safe!”

“No! We can’t risk it!” the man shouted. His voice cracked with fear. “You could be bitten! You could be one of them!”

“I’m not! Please!” Wilson begged. “I have an axe. I can help protect you, just let me in!”

“No!” the man yelled again. “If you stay there, you’ll bring them to us! Go!”

Wilson’s chest tightened. He could feel the sting in his eyes, the anger and helplessness boiling inside. Humans, even now, were cruel. “Fine!” he shouted, backing away. “You’ll regret this when it’s your turn!”

He turned just as a distant roar filled the hall. The zombies were coming again.

He ran, desperate to find another way out. The hallway stretched ahead, lined with wires and broken tiles. His foot caught on something.

Before he could react, he tripped, and pain exploded through his body. He landed hard, tangled in a mess of live wires. 

Electricity surged through him, burning his muscles, lighting his nerves on fire. “Aaaagh!” He screamed, convulsing. His vision blurred white. His fingers clenched the floor, but his strength was gone.

The pain was unbearable, like a thousand knives stabbing him all at once. He could smell his own skin burning, then, in the middle of the agony, 

A voice echoed inside his head: [SYSTEM HOST FOUND…]

Wilson’s eyes widened, unable to move or speak: [SYSTEM ACTIVATED.]

The world around him went silent. His body stopped shaking. The pain faded into a strange, cold numbness.