First things first, if this book gets 40 reviews by the end of the week, I will upload a bonus chapter. And just 9 more reviews remaining.
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[Ding!]
[ QUEST COMPLETE ]
[Quest Name: The First Apex]
Objective: Eliminate the Licker roaming the Building.
Status: COMPLETE (1/1)
Rewards:
> * 1000 EXP
> * 2000 V-Gold]
A surge of warmth flooded Atlas's core—the feeling of the System injecting raw power into his cellular structure. It was better than adrenaline. It was better than sex. It was growth.
[ LEVEL UP! ]
He had already leveled up to 5 entirely by killing the zombies during his journey to train.
The massive XP dump from the Licker and the Quest had catapulted him straight to Level 6.
'Show me the status,' Atlas ordered, mentally drooling over the numbers.
[Affirmative.]
\\
[ STATUS WINDOW ]
Name: Atlas Cruor
Race: Infected Evolved Zombie – Undead Variant (Tier 1)
Level: 6 (110/3200 EXP)
Evolution Stage: Active Mutation
[Core Attributes]
Strength: 20
Agility: 23
Stamina: ∞
Mind: 25
Status Point: 12
[Derived Stats]
Reaction Speed: 23
Regeneration: Low
Combat Instinct: 3
Mental Stability: Near Perfect
[Condition]
Hunger: None
Infection Stability: Stable.
Sanity: LOCKED
[Skills]
Neural Control (Passive), Retractable Claws (Active), Constant Regeneration (Passive)
[Evolution Traits]
Undead Zombie:
[Resources]
Evolution Points: 282
V-Gold: 3560
\\
Atlas scanned the numbers, his internal monologue rushing by in milliseconds.
'Level 6. The XP curve just spiked. 3200 to get to Level 7? That's steep. But my stats...
Strength 20. Agility 23. I am superhuman in every sense of the word. A Tyrant T-002 has a strength of maybe 20 to 25, but acts like a tractor. I move like a Ferrari.'
He looked at the V-Gold.
'3,560 Gold. I'm getting close to the 5,000 needed for the Shop. Just a few more high-tier kills. Maybe if I farm the Nemesis and look into the Sewers of Raccoon City later...'
He noticed a blinking notification in the corner of his HUD.
[ SYSTEM ALERT: LEVEL 5 REACHED ]
[ New Body Evolution Path Available! ]
[ You have (1) Pending Evolution Choice. ]
'Not now,' Atlas dismissed the notification. 'I can't mutate in front of the normies. It's messy. I'll save it for when I'm alone.'
He felt good. Strong. Wealthy. The "problem" of the Licker was solved. The "problem" of Rain was solved.
Now, only one problem remained.
'That's good,' Atlas thought, the satisfaction settling in his gut. 'Now let's take care of the loose ends.'
The entire interaction with Pleione had taken less than ten seconds of real-time.
Atlas slowly turned around to face the survivors.
Alice and Matt were still pressed against the wall. Alice still held the Beretta, but her aim was wavering. She looked at him with a mix of awe and terror. She knew, instinctively, that the gun was useless. If he could cut Rain in half before she could blink, he could take the gun before she could pull the trigger.
Matt was in worse shape. He was pale, sweating profusely, clutching his shoulder where the Licker had tagged him. The T-Virus was already rewriting his DNA, preparing him for the Nemesis program, though he didn't know it yet.
Atlas looked at them. His grey eyes glowed in the dim light of the train cabin. He retracted his claws fully this time, his hands returning to the appearance of normal, albeit pale, human hands.
He smoothed back his silver hair, wiped a speck of Rain's blood from his cheek, and flashed them a charming, predatory smile.
"Now," Atlas said, his voice deep and echoing over the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of the train tracks. "I believe this is the part where you say 'Thank you'."
The quip hung in the air, heavy and dead.
Nobody laughed. There was no chuckle, no sigh of relief. Alice and Matt were locked in a state of cognitive shock, their minds unable to reconcile the reality before them. They were trapped in a speeding metal box with a headless Licker, the corpse of their friend Rain, and a white-skinned entity that radiated a terrifying, wild beast-like pressure.
Atlas stood amidst the gore, unbothered by the silence. He flicked his wrist, shaking the last drops of thick, drak blood from his retracted claws. He didn't look like a monster; he looked like a king standing in the ruins of a conquered kingdom.
He glanced at Matt, dismissing him instantly as a non-threat, then focused his entire attention on Alice.
His grey eyes, glowing with a bioluminescent intelligence, locked onto hers.
The air in the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees.
Atlas began to walk toward her.
He didn't rush. His steps were slow, deliberate, and silent, despite the boots he wore. With every step, the tension ratcheted up, tightening around Alice's throat like a noose.
She wanted to run. Every survival instinct she had screamed at her to flee, to raise the gun, to do something. But she couldn't. Her legs felt rooted to the floor. It wasn't fear—or at least, not just fear.
It was recognition.
Deep in her DNA, the T-Virus bonded to her cells was singing. It recognized Atlas not as an enemy, but as the Apex. The Alpha.
Atlas stopped inches away from her. He was tall, towering over her, his broad shoulders blocking out the harsh lights of the cabin. The smell of him wasn't rot or decay; it was the scent of ozone, iron, and something muskier, something ancient and masculine.
They stood there for several seconds, the world outside the train blurring into streaks of darkness.
Alice stared up at him, her breath hitching in her chest. Up close, his skin was flawless, like polished marble. The veins beneath were not blue, but a shifting, metallic silver-red. He was beautiful in a way that was painful to look at.
Atlas slowly raised his hand.
Alice flinched, expecting a strike.
But the blow never came.
Atlas reached out, his fingers—no longer claws, but strong, pale hands—gently brushing a stray lock of blonde hair from her forehead. His touch was cold, startlingly so, but gentle. He traced the line of her jaw, his thumb resting on her chin, tilting her head up to force her to look at him.
"You..." Atlas whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in her chest. "You are magnificent, Alice."
His gaze dropped to her lips.
In his previous life, he had been a man of suppressed desires. But now? He was a creature of instinct. And his instinct screamed that she was his. The Queen to his King.
"And you are mine from now on."
It wasn't a question. It was a decree.
Atlas bowed his head.
Alice's eyes widened, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She should push him away. She should fight. But as he leaned in, a strange, intoxicating heat flooded her veins.
For a heartbeat, it felt as though the axis of the world had ground to a halt. The silence between them was absolute.
The only reason she hadn't move, the only reason she stood her ground before such a terrifying presence, was a bone-deep intuition—a whisper in her soul telling her that this predator would not turn his claws on her.
She had braced herself for a growl, for violence, or perhaps the cold indifference of a beast. She never expected him to possess the intellect for speech, let alone the capacity for reason.
But that shock was nothing compared to what followed. The reality of his voice was eclipsed instantly by the shattering impossibility of his touch.
He barely just spoke. He leaned in, bridging the gap between monster and human, and kissed her.
He captured her lips.
It wasn't a tentative, testing kiss. It was an invasion.
Atlas kissed her with the hunger of a man who had died and come back to life just for this moment. His lips were cold, firm, and demanding. He pressed her back against the cool metal wall of the train, his body boxing her in.
For Alice, the world stopped. The sound of the train, the smell of blood, the pain of the night—it all vanished. There was only the shock of his cold mouth moving against hers, the rough texture of his tongue sweeping past her lips, claiming her.
It was wild. It was primal.
She felt a jolt of electricity—literal bio-electricity—arc between them. It was dizzying. Her hands, which had been clenched in fists, slowly unclenched. Without meaning to, she reached up, her fingers digging into the shoulders of his shredded uniform, holding onto him to keep from falling.
For a moment, she wasn't Alice the security guard. She was just a woman, overwhelmed by a force of nature.
The kiss lasted for an eternity, a mingling of breath and essence. Atlas savored the taste of her—she tasted like life. Like fire.
For Alice, the noise of the station faded. The fear, the death, the Hive—all of it dissolved into a single moment of stillness. His presence was overwhelming, yet steady, as though he were anchoring her rather than claiming her.
She didn't pull away.
She kissed him back.
Just once.
Then, abruptly, he pulled back.
He didn't go far. His forehead rested against hers, his grey eyes burning into her blue ones.
He was breathing none, while she was gasping for air, her face flushed, her lips swollen and red.
Atlas's eyes searching her face for something—approval, rejection, fear. He found none of those.
Only resolve.
That seemed to satisfy him.
"Next time," Atlas murmured, his thumb brushing her lower lip, "you won't be so surprised."
"Hey! Get away from her!"
The spell shattered.
Matt Addison, driven by a surge of protective adrenaline, lunged forward. He raised the gun he had scavenged, aiming it at the back of Atlas's head.
"Let her go, you freak!"
Atlas sighed. The romantic atmosphere evaporated, replaced by cold annoyance.
"Rude," Atlas whispered.
ZAP.
He didn't turn. He simply vanished.
To Matt's eyes, Atlas blurred. One second he was kissing Alice; the next, a gust of wind hit Matt's face.
Matt blinked.
A cold hand wrapped around his throat.
Atlas was standing in front of him. With his free hand, Atlas casually slapped the gun.
CLACK-CLANG.
He didn't just knock it away; he dismantled it. With a movement too fast to track, Atlas stripped the slide from the frame, ejecting the magazine and the spring. The pieces of the weapon clattered uselessly to the floor.
"Ughh!"
Atlas tightened his grip on Matt's throat, lifting the man off his feet effortlessly. He held him there, dangling like a puppet, staring into Matt's terrified eyes.
"Now, now," Atlas chided, his voice smooth and dangerous. "You know it's stupid to try to fight someone much stronger than you. That isn't bravery, Matt. That's suicide."
He squeezed slightly, just enough to cut off the airflow, letting Matt feel the crushing pressure of Strength 20.
"But," Atlas continued, a smirk playing on his lips, "I like your courage. You tried to defend your friend. So, I will let this pass this time."
He leaned in close, his grey eyes piercing Matt's soul.
"Next time... you'll be dead before your brain even registers that I moved."
Atlas opened his hand.
Matt dropped to the floor, landing hard on his backside. He gasped, clutching his throat, coughing violently as he scrambled backward, away from the monster.
"Who... cough... who are you?" Matt rasped, fear etched in every line of his face.
Atlas straightened his uniform, brushing invisible dust from his shoulder.
"Isn't it rude to not introduce yourself first?" Atlas replied with a slight, mocking smile.
"Matt," the man wheezed, his defiance broken. "Matt Addison."
"Matt Addison," Atlas repeated, tasting the name. "The grieving brother. The environmentalist. And soon to be..." He trailed off, knowing Matt's fate in the Nemesis program, but decided not to spoil the surprise.
"Now tell us who you are," Matt demanded weakly.
Atlas turned, walking back to the center of the cabin. He stood between the corpses of the Licker and Rain, a bridge between the living and the dead.
"Me?" Atlas spread his arms. "Well, I think you already know what I am from my appearance."
He looked at his pale hands, turning them over.
"I am a zombie. Or I was one before. I died in that lab. The virus took me."
Alice watched him, her hand touching her lips where he had kissed her. "But you're not like them. You talk. You think."
"I am something more," Atlas agreed, his voice darkening. "I am what happens when impossible works."
He looked at them, his silhouette framed by the passing tunnel lights.
"You can call me Atlas Cruor."