Survivor System: From Weak To Overlord

Chapter 8. Eerie Feeling

It took Wilson nearly an hour to clear the fourth floor. His axe swung again and again, slicing through rotten flesh and splattering walls with dark stains. 

His breath came out in short gasps, and sweat dripped down his face. Yet, unlike before, his arms didn’t ache as much, and his movements were faster, sharper, almost too natural.

He leaned against a wall, looking over the hallway covered in bodies. “They’re… weaker,” he muttered, panting. Then he frowned. “No… I’m just getting stronger.”

That thought made him pause. Stronger, yes, but how far could it go? The System inside him seemed to grow with every fight, but he had no idea where it would stop.

He looked toward the stairwell leading up. The air there was still and heavy. The higher floors had always been quiet, too quiet. “If I can move faster now,” he whispered, gripping his axe, “then I’ll check the offices on the seventh floor. Maybe someone’s still alive.”

The thought of survivors filled him with a strange hope, but also dread. Each step he took upward echoed through the building, bouncing off the cracked walls. 

As he climbed, he could see signs of chaos, broken glass, overturned chairs, streaks of dried blood. 

A coffee mug rolled across the floor as his boot nudged it, the sound echoing sharply in the silence.

When he reached the seventh floor, his heart sank. Desks were flipped over, computers smashed, papers scattered like snow. 

The smell of decay was lighter here, but the emptiness felt worse. “There’s no one here,” Wilson whispered, shaking his head. “Not even a sign that anyone tried to hide…”

He turned to leave, but then froze. A sound echoed from behind the far row of cubicles. It wasn’t the groan of a zombie or the shuffle of feet. It was… something else. 

A deep, uneven rasp, like air moving through metal. Wilson tightened his grip on the axe and crouched low. 

His pulse quickened. The light flickered above him, humming faintly. “Who’s there?” he called quietly. No answer.

He stepped closer, one careful step at a time, until he saw movement in the corner of his eye. A figure was standing near the broken windows.

Wilson’s stomach turned cold. “Jamie…”

It was him, or what used to be him. Jamie’s eyes glowed faintly yellow in the dim light. His skin wasn’t rotting like the others. 

There were no open wounds, no missing flesh. Instead, his body looked… alive. Too alive. 

Muscles twitched under his skin. His fingers had long, black claws that scraped lightly against the floor.

Wilson took a shaky breath. “System, what is this? Is he… not a zombie?”

The System’s voice came quietly in his head: [I cannot determine the anatomy of this creature. It appears to be a zombie… but something has changed.]

Wilson’s heart pounded louder. “Changed? You mean evolved?”

The Jamie-thing tilted its head slowly, watching him with an awareness that sent chills crawling up his spine. Its eyes flickered again, almost curious.

“What is this?” Wilson whispered, stepping back. “Why do I feel like… it knows me?”

The creature didn’t move. It stood upright, not staggering like the others, not drooling or snarling. It looked controlled. Intelligent.

Wilson swallowed hard. Every instinct in his body screamed to attack, but something made him hesitate. “What happened to you, Jamie? Were you part of this from the start?”

The creature let out a low, throaty sound, deep and harsh. It didn’t sound human. It sounded like the rattle of a bird, sharp and metallic. 

Wilson flinched at the sound, his knuckles whitening around the axe handle. The claws on Jamie’s hands retracted slightly, gleaming under the flickering light. 

“Oh no…” Wilson whispered.

Without warning, the creature moved. One second it was across the room, then suddenly it was right in front of him. 

Wilson barely had time to duck as claws slashed through the air, cutting through a metal chair like paper. He rolled aside, heart racing. “It’s faster than before!”

The creature turned, head twitching unnaturally, then shrieked. The sound pierced through the air, high and loud enough to make Wilson’s ears ring. 

Down the hall, he heard faint thuds and groans, other zombies reacting in fear. Wilson steadied himself, sweat dripping from his jaw. “This isn’t a normal zombie… this is a monster.”

Jamie leapt again. Wilson swung the axe with all his strength. The blade met flesh, and then bone.

The creature’s head snapped to the side and rolled across the floor, landing near a fallen keyboard. Its body staggered for a few moments before collapsing.

Wilson stood there, chest heaving, eyes wide. He couldn’t believe what he’d seen. That thing was faster, stronger, and more aware than anything else he had fought. And if it evolved once… others could too.

Then, the familiar voice echoed in his mind again: [“System upgrade complete. New Title acquired: Nightmare Killer.”]

Wilson stared blankly at the body. “Nightmare Killer…” he whispered. “Is that what I’m becoming?”

The thought made his chest tighten. He didn’t know if he was still fighting for survival, or becoming part of the same nightmare he was trying to escape.

He knelt down beside Jamie’s corpse, examining it carefully. The veins were black, not blue. The blood was thicker. His brain, it looked… expanded. “Whatever this virus is, it’s changing them,” he murmured. “And if this one could evolve, the rest might too.”

He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to think. “Something caused this. Something big. And it’s spreading faster than anyone ever realized.”

The shadows around him felt heavier now. Even with the body lying still, the silence was worse than before.

Wilson picked up his axe again and turned toward the stairs. “I need to get back to Sophia and Kevin before they wake up.”

The journey down felt longer than before. Every step echoed, and every creak made him glance behind. It felt like the walls themselves were watching him.

When he reached the fourth floor, he saw them, Sophia and Kevin, lying near the wall, still asleep. Their breathing was calm, unbroken. He let out a long breath of relief. “Good… they’re safe.”

He leaned the axe against the wall and sat beside them. The exhaustion hit him all at once. His arms trembled as he wiped his face clean of blood.

For a while, he just stared at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights flickered faintly, and in their dim /glow, he could see dust floating in the air like tiny ghosts.

He sighed. “I never thought I’d be the one saving people during the end of the world,” he muttered softly, glancing at his hands.

 They didn’t even look like his own anymore, stronger, steadier, scarred. He closed his eyes. “These powers… will they fade one day?” he whispered to himself. “Or will they stay, and change me too?”

The room was silent except for the distant groans somewhere far below. Wilson didn’t have the answer. 

All he knew was that the next morning would bring something worse. Something smarter. Something ready.

And as he drifted off to sleep, the faint echo of that creature’s screech still played in his head, haunting, cold, and too human to forget.