EPZ 22

Chapter: 22

Crackle—sparks jumped from the firewood being swallowed by the flames. The wavering heat of the fire painted the man’s ash-gray eyes with a faint red glow.

Beneath the deeply set eye sockets, his half-shadowed gray eyes were similar in color to the dead, yet completely different in light. Much clearer, mysterious, and filled with emotions that were hard to read.

Jigu’s gaze moved slowly—over his smooth forehead, the sharp bridge of his nose, well-shaped lips, and the firm jaw—then returned to his thick, lowered eyelashes. She had thought it before, but he really was a handsome man.

Skin lightly tanned by the sun, messy black hair that somehow looked stylish even in disorder, and a well-fitted military uniform over a trained body.

The sound of pouring rain, the warm air inside, and the soft crackling of burning logs filled the space. After watching him quietly for a long time, Jigu whispered,

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why?”

“…Because it’s dangerous.”

“What is?”

This world.

Unable to say it aloud, Jigu swallowed and closed her eyes. Even in complete darkness, the edges of her vision glowed red. It had always been like that.

The only place where she could sleep peacefully was inside her skill—Earth Protection Zone.

Suddenly, warm heat covered her eyes. Jigu flinched and touched it with her hand. Beneath her fingers she felt rough, firm skin and raised veins.

“Kalif?”

Under his hand covering her eyes, she blinked. His other hand gently wrapped around her shoulder.

She allowed herself to be pulled into his arms. Even through the blankets, the heat from his body was completely different from the fireplace, warming her back.

“I am strong.”

You seem to doubt it, though.

A faint smile colored his voice as it vibrated through her back. In the warm darkness, Jigu blinked, then let out a small laugh.

She already knew Kalif was strong—strength beyond human limits, incredible speed, and even the ability to heal fatal wounds close to death.

Kalif was strong. But also weak.

Kalif Roxberg
Stamina 79% / Mutation Rate 87%

Even though they had held hands the whole time, his mutation rate had dropped only 1%. It rose instantly, but fell painfully slowly. The efficiency was terrible.

‘If his mutation reaches 100%, Kalif will become a zombie.’

Even the Guiding skill could not reverse it. The system clearly said the skill would not work at 100%.

Staring at the system window through half-closed eyes, Jigu pulled Kalif’s hand from her shoulder and gripped it tightly.

“What kind of place is Ranger Shelter?”

“…Well. I wouldn’t call it a good place.”

Kalif hesitated, then fell silent with a bitter expression.

It was safe—yes.

Ranger Shelter had once been the main command base of the Sentinel army at the frontlines before the virus spread. It had the largest number of Sentinels among all shelters.

That made it the safest place—and also the most dangerous. Even that place could not escape the virus.

Sentinels with high mutation rates, or even slight abnormal symptoms, were immediately “disposed of.” The watch-type device that detected mutation rates was first widely used in Ranger Shelter.

“Ranger Shelter is where the army command base used to be at the frontlines. And battlefields… are not good places.”

Rangers was barren.

The land soaked with countless blood could not grow even a single proper blade of grass. They tried to cultivate the dry, dusty ground, but at best they harvested a few weak roots.

In the end, Rangers sent its Sentinels to shelters across the continent and traded their service for water and food. But those resources rarely reached the ordinary civilians at the very bottom.

‘Should I really take her there?’

Gray eyes looked down at the small head resting in his arms, troubled.

Rangers was already overflowing with survivors. People lying in the streets and even outside the shelter looked no different from zombies.

With his rank of captain, entering the shelter would not be difficult. But could he bring her to that hell—where the smoke of burning starved corpses filled the air almost every day?

Maybe wandering without a destination would be better. That suited Jigu more.

“…It might be better not to go to Rangers.”

His voice was rough, as if glass were stuck in his throat.

Better to part ways. He would return to where he belonged, and she could live freely somewhere else.

She had survived alone for hundreds of days in a town filled only with the dead. She would be fine without him.

But—

‘What about me?’

He had no confidence he could live without her.

Ridiculously, he almost wanted to cling to her and say, You saved me, so take responsibility. What kind of pathetic thought was this?

Yet, like someone who had drunk from the river of forgetfulness, he could not remember how he had lived without her. Did she know how much comfort her small warmth gave him?

When he was with Jigu, everything in the world felt clear—like he was truly alive.

He did not want to leave her. Even imagining it made him feel like a lost child, unable to find his way. This was an unfamiliar emotion he had never experienced.

Veins stood out on the back of the hand covering her face. The soft brush of her eyelashes against his rough palm distracted him unbearably.

Should he abandon everything and follow her? Stay by her side without the shelter or his rank? Or take her to the shelter anyway and somehow protect her there?

“Kalif.”

Her quiet voice cut through his racing thoughts. He froze.

Jigu had grabbed the hand covering her eyes and pulled it down. Tilting her head back, she looked straight at him.

“If Kalif goes, I will go too.”

Thud.

Something heavy dropped into his heart. Her crescent-shaped dark eyes held him, and he could not look away.

“…Okay.”

Kalif answered, voice tightly controlled. He felt as if he were sinking deep underwater, unable to breathe.

“Looks like the worst situation we expected,” Edwin said.

“Not the worst. Just second worst. At least we woke up alive,” Maya replied.

Hearing them, Jigu nodded in agreement. Yes—surviving the night meant it was not the worst yet. But it could soon become the worst.

The vibration they felt last night had been the sound of a landslide.

The sudden heavy rain collapsed the hillside, burying the shed that stored farm equipment—and unfortunately, their truck as well.

Where the truck had been was now a mess of wet mud, broken wooden boards, and twisted metal.

Edwin scratched his head, troubled, as he examined the debris.

“Looks like leaving immediately will be difficult…”

At this rate, not only could they not leave the farm, they did not even know if the truck was still usable. Forget perfect condition—he only hoped it could still run at all.

Morton, who had woken everyone early, also stared at the landslide with a stiff face.

The tornado had vanished, and the wind had calmed—but their path was now completely blocked.