I'd spent ten thousand years learning my limits.
The soft caps. The breaking points. The boundaries that couldn't be crossed without permanent damage.
One thousand zombies had been my peak in the original timeline. One thousand minds, held together by iron will and constant focus. Any more, and the network started to fray. Connections slipped. Commands got lost. The whole system threatened to collapse.
But Maya had said something that haunted me.
The limits are self-imposed.
What if she was right?
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I started at dawn.
Not with caution. Not with the measured approach I'd used for the past five days.
I started with violence.
"Everyone who can't fight stays inside the compound," I announced to the assembled survivors. "Anyone who can—follow me. We're clearing the city."
Rachel Chen stepped forward. "What's the plan?"
"Simple. I claim everything between here and the emergence point. Every zombie, every corpse, everything that moves and doesn't breathe. When the Hive King surfaces tomorrow, I want it to surface into my territory."
"That's ambitious."
"That's necessary."
Vanguard stood behind me—my Elite, my vanguard, waiting with the patience of the truly dead.
"How many can you control?" Rachel asked.
"We're about to find out."
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The first wave was the compound's immediate perimeter.
I'd already claimed the blocks closest to our walls, but there were pockets I'd missed—zombies hiding in basements, wandering through collapsed buildings, trapped behind doors that hadn't quite held.
I moved through the streets with Ghost at my side, Vanguard at my back, and my four hundred and twenty-seven zombies spreading like a tide.
Claim. Claim. Claim.
Each new connection was a spark of cold fire in my mind. Each new zombie added to the chorus of dead voices.
Five hundred. Five-fifty. Six hundred.
The headache returned, sharper than before. I pushed through it.
Seven hundred.
Blood began to trickle from my nose. I ignored it.
Eight hundred.
My vision blurred at the edges. I kept moving.
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"Wei." Min-Tong's voice crackled through the radio. She was back at the compound, coordinating from the command center we'd set up in Max Yang's office. "Your vitals are spiking. Maya says you need to slow down."
"Can't slow down." My voice came out rough, strained. "Clock's ticking."
"You're going to hurt yourself."
"Better than letting everyone die."
I claimed another cluster—fourteen zombies trapped in a collapsed parking structure. The connections snapped into place like links in a chain.
Eight hundred fourteen.
Something shifted.
It wasn't the headache. The headache was still there, pounding behind my eyes like a second heartbeat. This was something else. Something deeper.
A wall.
I could feel it now—the barrier Maya had described. A mental construct, built from ten thousand years of believing I knew my limits. It rose in my mind like a fortress, ancient and seemingly unbreakable.
But walls were made to be broken.
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"Vanguard."
The Elite moved to my side instantly.
"Master?"
"Hold position. Guard the perimeter." I looked at my army—eight hundred and fourteen zombies, spread across twelve city blocks, all of them waiting for my command. "I'm going to try something."
"Vanguard obeys."
I closed my eyes.
In my original timeline, I'd approached my power like a resource to be managed. Conserved. Carefully rationed. The headaches were warnings. The nosebleeds were alarm bells. Every instinct screamed stop.
But Maya was right. Those instincts were human.
And I wasn't human anymore.
I reached for the wall in my mind—that mental barrier that said this is your limit—and I pushed.
Not gently. Not carefully.
I pushed with everything I had.
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Pain.
Unimaginable pain.
The wall didn't break cleanly. It shattered, and the shards tore through my consciousness like broken glass. I felt something inside me crack—not physically, but psychically. A part of who I'd been, splintering under the pressure.
And then—
Silence.
The headache vanished. The pressure vanished. The sense of straining against an invisible ceiling... gone.
I opened my eyes.
The world looked different.
Not visually—the colors were the same, the shapes unchanged. But my awareness had expanded. I could feel every zombie in my network with crystal clarity. Every connection was a golden thread, visible to my mind's eye, stretching from me to my army like the spokes of a vast wheel.
And there was room for more.
So much more.
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Claim.
The word wasn't a command anymore. It was an exhale. A pulse of power that rippled outward like waves from a dropped stone.
Zombies three blocks away stopped mid-step, their masters (instinct, hunger, base drives) replaced by my will.
Five blocks away.
Seven.
Zombies I couldn't even see felt my reach and bent to it.
Nine hundred. One thousand. Eleven hundred.
The numbers climbed without effort. Without strain. Without cost.
Twelve hundred. Thirteen hundred. Fifteen hundred.
I laughed.
It wasn't a pleasant sound. There was nothing pleasant about it. It was the laugh of someone who'd discovered the cage they'd lived in for ten millennia had never been locked.
Two thousand.
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"Wei?" Min-Tong's voice was worried. "Wei, what's happening? Your readings are—I don't understand these readings."
"I broke through." My voice sounded strange, even to my own ears. Deeper. Resonant. "Maya was right. The limits weren't real."
"What does that mean?"
"It means we have a chance."
I looked at my army. Two thousand zombies now, filling the streets around me, waiting with the patience of the truly dead.
Not enough. Not yet. But the day was young.
"Expanding north," I reported. "Industrial district. Keep tracking."
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The industrial district was a charnel house.
Warehouses. Factories. Distribution centers. All of them had been full of workers when the virus hit. Now they were tombs—and the tombs were full of the risen dead.
I moved through the zone like a conquering army, Vanguard at my side, claiming everything that moved.
Twenty-two hundred. Twenty-four hundred. Twenty-six hundred.
The numbers that had once represented my absolute ceiling were now way stations on a highway that stretched to the horizon.
Ghost bounded ahead, her enhanced senses mapping the territory.
Big pack ahead, Master. Many dead things. Clustered.
"Show me."
She led me to a massive warehouse—three stories, covering most of a city block. Through the shattered windows, I could see movement. Lots of movement.
"How many?"
Ghost counts... many. Very many. Hundreds.
I smiled.
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The warehouse held three hundred and seventeen zombies.
They'd been workers at a logistics company—delivery drivers, warehouse staff, office employees. When the virus hit, they'd been trapped inside, turned, and had been wandering the building's corridors ever since.
I claimed them all in a single pulse.
Three thousand three hundred seventeen.
The sensation was intoxicating. Each new connection added to my awareness, expanded my perception, made me feel more. More present. More powerful. More alive.
Which was ironic, given what I was becoming.
"Three thousand," I reported to Min-Tong. "And climbing."
"Wei..." Her voice was hesitant. "Maya wants to talk to you."
"Put her on."
A pause. Then Maya's soft, ethereal voice.
"It felt you."
My blood—what little remained that could be called blood—went cold.
"What?"
"The Hive King. When you broke through. It felt the surge of power." Maya's voice was distant, haunted. "It's... interested now. Before, you were a rival. A threat. But now..."
"Now what?"
"Now it's afraid of you."
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The Hive King was afraid.
The thought should have been comforting. Instead, it filled me with dread.
Fear made creatures dangerous. Fear made them desperate. And a desperate Hive King with thousands of zombies under its control...
"Is it moving earlier?" I asked.
"The visions are shifting. Fuzzy. Your power is creating interference—I can't see as clearly as before." Maya paused. "But I think... yes. It's accelerating. The emergence is coming sooner."
"How soon?"
"Tonight. Maybe midnight. Maybe later." Her voice cracked. "I'm sorry. I can't pin it down."
"Then we keep moving. The more I claim, the stronger we are when it surfaces."
"Be careful." Maya's voice dropped to a whisper. "The wall you broke—it wasn't just a limit. It was a protection. The more power you take, the more you become like it. The more you become like the thing you're fighting."
"I'll take that risk."
"I know you will." She sounded sad. "Just... remember who you are. Remember why you're doing this."
I looked at my army. Three thousand zombies, spreading across the industrial district like a tide of death.
I remembered.
Min-Tong. Chen Chen. The survivors at the compound. The people I'd come back to save.
This power wasn't for me. It was for them.
It had to be.
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By sunset, I had five thousand.
Five thousand zombies, covering a territory that stretched from the waterfront to the edge of downtown. Five thousand dead minds, all of them obedient, all of them waiting for my command.
It still wasn't enough.
Maya's latest vision had shown the Hive King's forces at eight thousand. Maybe ten thousand. The numbers were imprecise, shifting every time she looked.
But one thing was clear: I needed more.
"Industrial district is clear," I reported to the compound. "Moving into downtown."
"Wei, you've been at this for twelve hours." Min-Tong's voice was tight with worry. "You need to rest."
"No time."
"You're going to burn out. Even if the limits aren't what you thought—"
"I'll rest when this is over."
A pause. Then, quietly: "Promise me."
"I promise."
It was a lie. I wasn't sure I could rest anymore. The power flowing through me, the constant hum of five thousand connections... it was changing me. Making sleep seem distant. Making rest seem unnecessary.
Making me wonder if I'd ever be human again.
But that was a problem for after Day 5.
If there was an after.
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Downtown Seattle at night was a nightmare made manifest.
The towers that had once glittered with life were dark monoliths against the sky. The streets were clogged with abandoned vehicles and rotting corpses. And everywhere—everywhere—the dead walked.
This was where the highest population density had been when the virus hit. This was where the most people had died, risen, and wandered.
This was where I would find my army.
Claim.
The pulse went out, and zombies fell into line.
Five thousand two hundred. Five thousand five hundred. Five thousand eight hundred.
The numbers climbed like a rising tide.
I moved through the streets without fear. What was there to fear? The dead couldn't hurt me. The dead were me.
Or I was them.
The distinction was getting harder to make.
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At midnight, I felt it.
A pulse of power from beneath the city. Cold. Hungry. Ancient.
The Hive King was waking.
"It's starting," Maya's voice came through the radio. "The emergence. It's—Wei, you need to get back to the compound. Now."
"How long?"
"Hours. Maybe less. The ground is... the ground is shaking. Can you feel it?"
I could. A subtle vibration, barely perceptible, rising from somewhere deep underground.
"I'm at six thousand three hundred," I reported. "Not enough."
"It has to be enough. If you're not in position when it surfaces—"
"I know."
I looked at my army. Six thousand three hundred zombies, packed into the streets of downtown Seattle.
Not enough to match the Hive King. But maybe enough to slow it down.
Maybe enough to buy time.
Maybe enough to survive.
"Coming home," I said.
And I turned my army toward the compound.