In the shadowy forest, the air was thick with guttural growls that sounded almost animalistic. Nathan Hale tore through the trees like a bolt of wind, the snap of dry branches beneath his boots echoing sharply—but he had no time to care.
"Haah... haah..."
"Is it... is it catching up?" he gasped as sweat drenched his clothes and ran cold down his spine. He didn’t dare to glance back, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. Nathan knew that stopping now meant certain death—it would tear him to shreds. The thing chasing him wasn’t just a zombie; it was a horrifying evolved version. Even five B-rank Evolvers combined couldn’t hold a candle to its power.
When it showed up, Nathan didn’t hesitate. Unlike his teammates who faltered, he bolted straight into the trees. He didn’t look back, because he knew what had happened to the ones too slow—they were already gone.
Then, all at once, the forest grew unnervingly silent. Nathan instinctively looked down, his expression freezing in horror. Through his chest, a scaly claw protruded, dripping with blood. Clutched tightly in that grotesque hand was a still-beating crimson heart.Nathan Hale's consciousness grew faint. Was this the end? Born into the Dark Era, he had barely scraped by for over twenty years, yet like most others, couldn't escape the inevitable fate of death.
Suddenly, a jolt ran through him, and Nathan's eyes snapped open. Instinctively, he shot to his feet, reaching for a weapon—a reflex honed through years of survival. But his hand wrapped around something hard and unfamiliar, something black with red light glowing at its base. Puzzled, he looked down at it. “Is this... a mouse?” he muttered to himself.
In the Dark Era, ordinary people couldn't even dream of using electricity, let alone high-tech gadgets like computers and mice. He’d only seen such things at key locations within bases.
Nathan stared blankly at his surroundings. A large office sprawled before him, filled with men and women in neat suits and ties, each engrossed in their tasks at well-organized desks.
When Nathan abruptly stood, a few heads turned his way, but they quickly returned to their work as though he'd done nothing out of the ordinary.
This peaceful scene was utterly alien to him—a stark contrast to the chaos he had known. Such tranquility had only existed in books, faint relics of the world before.
“Did I... time travel?” A flood of unfamiliar memories suddenly surged into his mind, leaving Nathan dumbfounded.Nathan Hale learned from the memories in his head that he had taken over the body of another young man with the same name. This world was vastly different from the one he had known—no zombies, no mutated beasts, no foreign invaders. Peace reigned.
“Nathan, are you slacking off?” The sharp voice from behind cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to reality. Startled, he turned to face the source.
Standing there was a short, balding middle-aged man. His name came to Nathan's mind instantly, thanks to the memories—Steven Brooks, his boss.
Nathan frowned, displeased by Steven’s tone. When Steven noticed Nathan wasn’t moving, his voice turned biting, laced with mockery. “What are you standing around for? If I catch you slacking off, I’ll dock your pay. You hear me?”
Nathan's chest tightened as anger rose from somewhere deep within him. It wasn’t just his own fury—it was the leftover resentment from the Nathan Hale he had taken over. This young man, only nineteen, had worked tirelessly to support his sister, who depended on him for her education and their livelihood. Early mornings, late nights—his life was a grind. Steven Brooks, however, had frequently exploited him, handing him tasks meant for others without a single care, while paying him no more than the bare minimum.
Nathan didn’t bother responding to the man’s rant. Instead, he pulled out his phone, glanced down at the screen—and froze. The date glaring back at him was April 1, 2017."April 1st, 2017? Isn't this the day the apocalypse began according to history?" Nathan Hale's chest tightened as the realization hit him. He had been born a hundred years into the apocalypse, in the year 100 of the Dark Era, and had died around year 120. This scene here was unmistakably the world before the chaos began.
To confirm his suspicion, Nathan strode over to the window and gazed at the sky. The early morning light revealed streaks of faint red in the heavens.
"No doubt about it. Legends say the first day of the apocalypse started with the skies turning red. After the blood rain came the virus outbreak. Billions of people across this parallel Earth—most of the world's population—were infected, transforming into zombies, while animals evolved into terrifying mutants." Nathan's thoughts were racing. It was clear now; he had traveled back in time to the starting point of the apocalypse.
"Nathan Hale! Quit staring, get back to work! It's office hours!" Jeffrey Moore's voice snapped at him from behind. That icy tone didn’t hide Moore's growing frustration—his authority had been blatantly ignored.
"You’ve been with this company for a year now, and you're still utterly useless. Just dead weight wasting our resources! If you weren’t at least somewhat punctual, I'd have fired you long ago!" Moore barked, his words sharp and unrelenting. "According to history, the apocalypse begins today. Time’s running out." Nathan Hale felt the urgency deep in his bones. No one knew the exact hour chaos would erupt, but he couldn’t sit around waiting. He had to act fast.
His last life—he hated how it ended. It wasn’t that he was weaker than others; it was the cruel timing of his birth. Born a century into the apocalypse, he faced a world where zombies had evolved intelligence, turning into terrifying predators ordinary folk couldn’t hope to take down.
Nathan had luck—a rare stroke of it. He stumbled upon an evolution core, which made him one of the remarkable few: an evolutionist. Scraping and clawing his way through that godforsaken world, he managed to climb to B-rank—good enough to survive, even thrive in treacherous hunts with other evolutionists. Until one day. That one damn day. He crossed paths with an elite evolved zombie, and it left him dead in the dirt.
But now, things were different. The outbreak had barely begun—that monstrous level of evolution would take decades. The zombies today would be weak, manageable, a chance for him to gather resources, power, and leave his mark. This was it—a chance he never had before.
"This is it, isn’t it? A second shot at life. I won’t waste it," he murmured, his jaw tightening as his eyes burned with determination. Nathan strode toward the door. There was no time to waste. Preparations had to begin."Nathan Hale, are you deaf?!" Jeffrey Moore snarled, his voice cracking with frustration. He had always thrown his weight around the office, backed by his connection to the chairman. No one ever dared defy him. He reached out, intending to grab Nathan's shoulder.
"Get lost." Nathan's gaze turned razor-sharp. He seized Jeffrey's wrist and twisted it hard, then delivered a swift kick to Jeffrey's flabby stomach.
"You…" The agony crumpled Jeffrey into a trembling ball, sweat pouring off his face as his voice faltered and stuck in his throat.
Nathan’s lips curled into a faint sneer. "This body is pathetic." Not sparing a glance for Jeffrey sprawled on the floor, he strode out of the office amid the wide-eyed stares of his shocked colleagues.
