'Be the last person alive in the Zone.'

The words were written in front of him.

Dean knew of the Gate's missions because of class, but he's never heard of one appearing outside, and especially the ones with clearing conditions like this.

This was life or death. The Gate's missions were absolute. He didn't know how, but if he wasn't the last person when the timer goes out, he would die. He felt it in his gut.

With the state he was in, naked and weak, he couldn't put up much of a fight against the two. It was a primal feeling, the type you get when you stand in front of a crocodile. It waiting for you to approach so it can rip you apart with its monstrous jaws.

So, he turned from both the men and ran. He jumped through the chapel's window. His arms were up to protect his face. Luck was on his side, barely any glass had cut into him on the way out. Stumbling from the landing, he got up and continued to run, it wasn't cowardice but a tactical retreat.

The host laughed. A grin plastered across his face as Dean ran away.

The host clicked his fingers at his colleague.

The slump man ran through the front door and chased after Dean. A knife gripped firmly in his hand.

The muscular host dusted off one of the chapel bench's and sat. Leaning against the back rest, his head focused up to the sky light.
He pulled out a cigar and zippo lighter from his jacket, he then flipped his zippo lighter open. The flame sparking alight as it opened. He bite the end off of the cigar and spat it on to the floor.
Submerging the end of the cigar in the flame he took a big inhale of smoke.

Savouring the taste of the high-quality tobacco.

"It's nice to meet a fan."

He blew out a thick cloud of smoke from his nose and stared at the black hazy sky through the skylight. The man waited for his colleague to find and kill the naked man.

...

Dean had been sprinting down the street barefooted, the tarmac of the road was hard against his feet. He hadn't ran much since he was younger, but he seemed to be quite agile running for his life with a cloth barely covering him.

He hit a lightly opaque wall. The knock threw him off his feet, disorientating him as he fell.

On his back, the wall went high up into the sky, vanishing out of sight. The only indication that it was there was that it had a light blue hue to it.

The sky was dark, covered by moody clouds. The buildings nearby were ruined. Windows were shattered, some were even missing roofs and chunks out of them.

He looked at his level the streets were covered in cracks, glass everywhere. The streetlights were bent and unlit. It's a miracle he didn't step on any glass while running.

"What the hell is going on?"

Dean got up to his feet, he looked around the destroyed ruins that were once streets. The scene of the general area looked like it came from a movie. The world he once knew was dead.

The colleague of the host came running down the street. His feet heavily hit against the tarmac. The man held a knife towards Dean.

Dean's eyes were wide. He was trapped in a cage with two mad men! An invisible wall behind him; two destroyed buildings to the side of him, and an insane person with a knife in front of him. Dean had nowhere to run.

Dean looked around the area, the man not too far from being able to cut him with the knife. Dean picked up a big chunk of brick from the destroyed building next to him.

"Stay back, or I'll throw this!" Dean threatened.

Dean's eyes were full of determination. If the man were to come any closer with that knife he'll aim the brick clean at the guys head.

Dean wasn't a violent person, but he wouldn't let a lunatic charge at him with knife trying to take his life. Would you?

The hunched man didn't even bat an eye at Dean's warning, continuing to charge with the knife held high.

Dean threw the chuck of brick at the charging man, aiming for his head, but Dean's never been a good shot and was still dizzy from running into the wall. He missed the head by a mile, the brick hit the guy's hand that held the knife.

The man dropped the knife to the ground, abandoning it as he continued to rush Dean. He didn't even flinch at his hand receiving damage from the heavy brick.

The determination of the man spooked Dean, throwing him off guard. He charged with his bloody hand, grabbing Dean's neck. The man pushed Dean to the ground.

The man weighed Dean down with such force that shouldn't match someone of his height and shape.

Dean punched his side; the man didn’t even respond. The man choked Dean poorly. The one hand that was damaged by the brick now barely connected to his wrist, unable to form a proper hold.

"Piss off!" Dean shouted.

A short burst of strength rushed through Dean, helping him throw the man off to the side.

The man landed onto a sharp broken lead pipe that stuck out from some rubble. Blood began pouring out the end protruding from his body.

"You good?" Dean's eye was wide from the sight, he picked up a big piece of rubble, holding it over the man's head just in case he was still alive.

The man was unresponsive, dead eyed, his mouth wide open as a pipe stuck through his chest. The blood flowied out like a waterfall.

"…Hello?"

Dean tapped his leg with his bare foot.

The man woke up and tried to grab Dean. Yet he was unable to move from the embedded pipe that kept him pinned to the ground. Dean shrieked, he let go of the rubble and dropped it onto the man's head, it being smashed into pieces. Brain matter splattered across the tarmac floor.

Ding!

An opaque window appeared in front of Dean's eyes.

 

[Defeated an undead puppet]

[50 points rewarded]

 

Dean thought the guy was unusual, but how could he not realise he was undead? The guy had all the signs of a classic zombie (minus the groans and perhaps an eye hanging from its socket).

Dean released the breath he didn't realise he was holding. He was happy it wasn't a real human, but he thought he would react a little worse to taking a life. It felt normal, like he had done it before.

Dean took a minute, collecting his thoughts and took a second glance at what was once London. The area was now in a state that would cost billions of pounds to fix.

How could this happen in a night? It baffled him.

His stomach rumbled, waking him from his thoughts. He had been running on an empty stomach and seriously craving food.

"Well I can't fight for my life on an empty stomach."

He looked down at the cloth barely covering him.

"Might as well pick up some clothes while I'm at it."

…

Back at the Chapel the host was still sat on the bench, waiting for the notification that he was the last person alive in the zone.

He had searched every nook and cranny of the zone and wiped out all the people with his legion of the undead. They didn't go down without a fight, some of them were even awakened.

A dog with a strong jaw is still a dog. Once you have a group of people holding it still, it isn't too hard to put it down.

After he wiped out everyone he could find, he flexed his hand, using a skill.

[Search Lv1 activated]

[Filter: Living Being Applied]

[Applying Search skill to zone parameters]

 

A window appeared in front of him.

 

[Two Humans left in Zone.]

 

At first, he thought someone was pretending to be dead amongst the group. How else would they have evaded him and his undead army?

So, he made them all kneel, and had the undead - the first person he killed with his own hands - cave all of their skulls in.

It ended up being a waste of time, only him and the undead were left. He started to worry maybe a child hid somewhere he couldn't reach.

That was until he found a naked man in the chapel.

The man didn't look like much, quite pathetic really. He couldn't help but smile, the man was naked and clueless. All he had to do was sit back and wait for the window to pop up telling him he was the last one alive. He felt trapped in the zone and was excited to get out.

He stubs out his cigar, most of it burnt to ash as time went on. Letting out his last cloud of smoke he checked his watch, there was only half an hour left.

What was the undead doing? The man was weak.

His face turned into a frown, slightly worried.

Ding!

A window appeared in front of his eyes.

 

[Your Undead puppet has been defeated]

[Taking 50 points]

 

The sight of the window confirmed his fears. His eyes turned sharp, his teeth showing. The man was outraged! The blood vessels on his neck were close to popping.

"Useless! Bloody useless!" The host shouted, stamping on the bench, leaving dents in the wood.
He got up and left the Chapel with clenched fists. His eyes were burning with fire.
"Pathetic. Come out and fight me or we're both dead!"

He shouted from the streets. His legion of undead gone, his undead puppet gone from a mistake. It was him and Dean left.