Chapter 908: The Red Crystal

Watching Ethan dodge and stumble under the zombie’s relentless pursuit, the others were on edge, hearts pounding. If Ethan went down, they were next. No question.

Sean’s eyes darted around, scanning for anything—

anything

—they could use.

Then he spotted the ladder, lying where they’d dropped it earlier. An idea sparked.

"I’ve got something," he said quickly. "We flip the ladder sideways—two on each end—and ram it. With all four of us, we might be able to knock it down. Once it’s down, we pin it."

Chris’s eyes lit up. "That could work!"

No time to waste. They scrambled to grab the ladder, flipped it horizontal, and lined up—two on each end. Then, with a shout, they charged.

"Ethan, duck!" Chris yelled.

Ethan didn’t hesitate. He dropped into a roll just as the ladder barreled past him.

WHAM.

The center of the ladder slammed into the zombie’s chest, knocking it clean off its feet.

Before it could scramble up, the four of them dropped the ladder on top of it, pressing down with everything they had. The middle pinned its torso while each end was anchored by two people, straining to hold it in place.

The zombie thrashed violently, limbs flailing, jaws snapping—but it couldn’t break free. Not against four bodies bearing down.

"Hell yeah!" Ethan shouted, breathless.

But the celebration died in their throats as a sharp

crack

split the air.

They all froze.

The middle of the ladder was bending—splitting. A hairline fracture had opened along the metal, and it was growing.

Ethan’s stomach dropped. No time to think. He lunged forward, raised the metal pipe, and brought it down on the zombie’s head with everything he had.

THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.

Each blow landed with a sickening thud, the pipe denting further with every strike. He aimed for the same spot, over and over, hammering the wound open.

Blood finally began to seep from the zombie’s skull—but instead of weakening, it thrashed harder, snarling and bucking beneath the ladder.

The crack widened. The metal groaned.

"Shit—hold it!" someone yelled.

Ethan didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He kept swinging, the pipe now warped and slick with gore. His arms screamed, his breath came in ragged gasps, but he didn’t let up.

THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.

The others could only watch, knuckles white on the ladder, as Ethan pounded the thing into submission.

At last, after what felt like an eternity, the zombie’s movements slowed. Then stopped.

Silence.

Ethan stood over the corpse, chest heaving, pipe dangling from his hand like a broken limb. His clothes were soaked—blood, brain matter, sweat. He looked less like a man and more like something that had clawed its way out of hell.

Chris stepped back, eyes wide. The others didn’t move. They just stared at Ethan, horror etched across their faces.

He’d done it again. Crushed a zombie’s skull with his bare hands and a pipe. But this time, they’d seen every second of it. The frenzy. The desperation. The sheer violence.

It left a mark.

Ethan didn’t care. He dropped to the ground, legs giving out, and sucked in air like he’d been drowning.

That thing had been a monster. If it had gotten loose, they’d all be dead. He’d known it. That’s why he’d gone berserk. There hadn’t been a choice.

But now that the adrenaline was fading, pain came rushing in.

A burning, stinging heat across his arms and torso.

He looked down—and his face darkened.

Several long, ragged gashes ran across his skin, torn through his shirt. Deep. Bleeding. Obvious claw marks.

The others saw it too.

Their expressions shifted from awe to dread.

"Ethan..." Chris’s voice cracked. "You’re not... you’re gonna be okay, right?"

Ethan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he activated

True Sight

and focused on the wounds clawed into his skin.

Gray energy was seeping in, tendrils of infection trying to worm their way deeper—but something inside him was pushing back. A different energy, one he couldn’t quite name, was holding the corruption at bay.

He exhaled, tension bleeding from his shoulders.

Just like Chris.

They both had something inside them—something that resisted the zombie virus. He didn’t know what it was or where it came from, but it was there. And it was working.

Everyone knew the rule: get bitten or scratched, and you’re done. No exceptions.

Except... here they were. Two exceptions.

He frowned, thinking. What did he and Chris have in common?

Only one thing came to mind: their abilities.

Could that be it?

he wondered.

Is that what’s keeping us alive?

"Ethan, say something, man. You’re scaring the hell out of me," Chris said, voice tight with panic.

Snapping out of it, Ethan gave a small shake of his head and forced a smile. "I’m fine. You’re okay, right? Then I’m not going anywhere."

Chris let out a long breath, shoulders sagging. "Jesus... I thought we lost you."

"You sure you’re okay?" Sean asked, still eyeing him like he might sprout fangs at any second.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "What, you thinking of tossing me off the roof just in case?"

Sean flinched. "No! No, of course not. Just... checking in."

Yeah, right. No one wanted to be the guy who pissed off the man who could cave in a skull with a pipe.

Chris cleared his throat, still shaken. "Ethan... what the hell was up with that zombie? Why was it so strong?"

"I don’t know," Ethan said, frowning. He activated

True Sight

again and scanned the corpse. He was just as curious as the rest of them.

From head to toe, nothing looked out of place—until he reached the skull.

There, nestled in the shattered remains of its brain, was something small and red. A crystal, no bigger than a grain of rice.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed with interest. He stepped closer, knelt beside the body, and—ignoring the stench and the gore—reached into the ruined skull.

"Ugh—"

That was it. Sean and the others, who’d been holding it together by a thread, lost it. Again.

They doubled over, dry-heaving, stomachs long since emptied. Chris turned pale, visibly struggling.

I said I’d follow him no matter what,

Chris thought, watching Ethan’s hand disappear into the mush.

But damn, this is next-level psycho.

Thankfully, Ethan didn’t take long. He pulled his hand free, and in his palm sat a tiny red crystal, slick with blood and brain matter.

He turned it over, studying it. It was warm to the touch, almost soothing. Smooth. Comforting, even.

Chris edged closer, swallowing hard. "What... what is that?"

Ethan shook his head, then activated

True Sight

again, this time focusing on the crystal.

Under the lens of his ability, the crystal glowed with pure, condensed energy—no impurities, no flaws. Just raw, perfect power.

And something else.

His body... wanted it.

Not just curiosity. Hunger. A deep, primal craving.

He hesitated for a moment, then made up his mind.

He wiped the crystal clean on the least-bloody patch of his shirt, then—before anyone could stop him—popped it into his mouth and swallowed.

Chris’s jaw dropped. "Wait—"

"UURGH—"

That did it. Chris hit the ground, retching violently.

You couldn’t even blame him. Watching someone dig a crystal out of a zombie’s skull and

eat it

? That was nightmare fuel.

Sean and the others, who’d just finished vomiting, started again. This time, it was bile and nothing else. They were running on empty.

Ethan ignored them.

Because something was happening.

The moment the crystal hit his stomach, it dissolved into pure energy and surged through his body—into his veins, his nerves, his muscles. Every inch of him lit up.

He felt incredible.

Stronger. Sharper. Like his whole body had been reforged from the inside out.

And the gray infection? Gone. Wiped clean.

A rush of power flooded him, and Ethan’s eyes lit up with wonder.

Then something shifted in his mind.

He closed his eyes, focusing—and there it was.

A constellation. Faint, but unmistakable. Nine stars arranged in a pattern, hovering in the darkness of his mind. The first star... was glowing. Just a corner, but it was lit.

Ethan’s breath caught.

He’d seen this before. Last night, in a drunken haze, he’d glimpsed this exact star map. He’d thought it was a dream. A hallucination.

But now it was here. Real. Inside him.

Was it coincidence? Or fate?

He didn’t know.

But one thing was certain—everything had just changed.

...