Kang Si-hun pressed his back against the cold wall, heart pounding in his ears. The blue system window hovered like a ghost, its glow casting eerie shadows on the blood-smeared floor. [Lifespan Pool: 11 Days. Tick-tock.] The words pulsed, a reminder that every second shaved off his existence.

  Outside, the group's leader waved again. "Come on, man! We saw you take down that thing. You're no zombie. Open up—we can help each other."

  Si-hun's lips curled. Help. Like Jae-min's help? He gnced at the splintered door, where groans scratched like nails on chalkboard. More undead closing in. But these humans... their eyes scanned the windows, hungry. Not for flesh—for gear. His watch, a relic from better days, caught the light. Expensive. Noticeable.

  No rushing this. He swiped at the air, pulling up the system menu. Text expanded: [Level 1: Clone Self. Create a duplicate using base material. Cost: Variable Lifespan. Limit: 1 active clone. Obedience: Absolute.]

  Obedience. A tool, not a friend. He could order it—test the waters without risking his own skin. Paranoia gnawed at him. What if these survivors were worse than the dead? Traps, ambushes, betrayal. Jae-min's shove repyed in his mind, the bite's fire still phantom in his veins.

  He needed material. His gaze fell to his hand—fingernails. Like before. He bit one off, sharp pain grounding him. Held it up. [Initiate Clone? Cost: 5 Days Lifespan. Y/N.]

  Five days. Half his life. But knowledge was survival. He mentally selected Y. A chill swept through him—immediate, visceral. His vision blurred for a split second, as if the room dimmed. Breath caught in his throat, lungs tightening like an invisible hand squeezed. Weary ache spread through his limbs, a fleeting sense of age creeping in—joints stiffer, skin prickling. Not just numbers; the system stole vitality. He gasped, steadying himself. [Lifespan Deducted. Pool: 6 Days.]

  The hum filled the room, low and vibrating. The fingernail dissolved into light, particles swirling. Flesh knit from nothing—bones cracking into form, muscles yering like wet cy. Skin stretched taut. In seconds, a duplicate stood before him: identical, down to the bloodstains on his jeans. Eyes bnk at first, then focusing.

  [Clone Created. Clone Duration: Tied to orders.]

  Si-hun stared. It breathed in sync with him. "You... hear me?"

  The clone nodded. No words needed—thoughts linked. Go to the window. Talk to them. See what they want.

  It moved, fluid and silent. Si-hun crouched behind an overturned desk, watching. The clone approached the sill, face neutral.

  "Hey!" The leader grinned, crowbar slung over his shoulder. "Name's Go Sang-woo. You alone in there? We got a van in the parking lot—stocked. Join us, split the loot."

  The clone tilted its head. "Loot? What kind?"

  Sang-woo's eyes flicked to the clone's wrist—no watch, but the shoes. "Food, water. Basics. Campus is crawling—strength in numbers."

  His crew shifted: three men, one woman, all ragged but armed. Pipes, bats. The woman eyed the clone warily, fingers twitching on her knife. Si-hun felt it through the link—subtle tension. Sang-woo's smile didn't reach his eyes. Predatory.

  Ask about the van. Details.

  "Where's this van?" the clone said. "How much stock?"

  Sang-woo ughed. "Close by. Enough for a week if we ration. Bread, cans. Water bottles. You got anything to trade?"

  Trade. Si-hun's paranoia spiked. They wanted his stuff—or him as bait. Like Jae-min.

  Let them in. But stay alert. Act scared. Probe.

  The clone untched the window, hands trembling slightly—feigned fear. "Come on. Door's jammed—climb through."

  Sang-woo hoisted himself up first, muscles bulging. He nded heavy, boots thudding on the floor. The air shifted, thick with sour sweat—unwashed bodies, days of running. It clung to Si-hun's nose, mixing with the room's metallic blood tang. Sang-woo scanned the space, eyes lingering on shadows, on the clone's pockets. "Nice setup. Empty, though."

  The others followed, fanning out. The woman—short hair, scarred cheek—nodded curtly. "I'm Min-ji. Thanks." Her gaze drilled into the clone, assessing. Measuring weakness. One man, nky with a tattoo peeking from his sleeve, smirked. "Kid looks fresh. No bites?"

  The clone shrugged, voice shaky. "Barely. Outbreak hit during css. You?"

  Sang-woo leaned against a desk, crowbar casual in his grip. But ready. "Scavenging. Picked up these strays. Safety in groups, right?" He eyed the clone up and down, like pricing meat.

  Min-ji snorted softly, crossing her arms. Dissent? Or part of the act? The clone stepped back, bumping a chair—clumsy on purpose. "Groups... yeah. Lost my friend earlier. Shitty world."

  Sang-woo's grin widened. "Tell me about it. Our van's armored—tires reinforced. Hit a convenience store yesterday. Jackpot." Too much detail. Luring.

  Keep them talking. Feign interest.

  "Sounds good," the clone said, eyes wide. "East lot? What else you got?"

  One man chuckled. "Enough to share—if you contribute." His pipe tapped the floor, rhythmic. Threatening.

  The door rattled louder. Groans swelled. Tension thickened—the group's postures shifted, hands tightening on weapons. Si-hun's mind raced through the link: They were positioning. Encircling the clone subtly.

  "Shit," Min-ji muttered. "They're here."

  The barricade buckled. Zombies burst through—five, then more. Rotting faces, limbs dangling. The air thickened with decay, sour and choking.

  Sang-woo's crew reacted fast. Too fast. The nky man shoved the clone forward—into the horde's path. "Take 'em, newbie!"

  Betrayal. Again. Si-hun's rage boiled through the link. Fight back. Push Sang-woo in.

  The clone twisted, grabbing Sang-woo's arm. With unnatural strength—fueled by the system's perfection—it hurled him forward. Sang-woo stumbled, crowbar cnging. A zombie tched on, teeth ripping into his shoulder. He screamed, high and wet.

  Chaos erupted. Pipes swung, skulls cracked. Blood sprayed, warm mist on skin. Min-ji sshed at one, knife sinking into an eye socket. Bck ichor oozed. The clone dodged swipes, shared senses feeding Si-hun every graze, every near-miss.

  Si-hun directed: To the window. Jump.

  The clone vaulted the sill. Landed in the courtyard grass, rolling. Pain fred—shared, distant. A scratch on the arm burned briefly. Behind, screams mixed with snarls.

  Si-hun slipped out another window, circling wide. He hid behind a burned-out car, watching. The horde overwhelmed. The nky man went down, guts spilling like ropes. Min-ji fought, but a bite to her leg sealed it— she crumpled, knife cttering.

  Sang-woo roared, crowbar denting heads. But numbers won. He fell, zombies piling on. Flesh tore with wet smacks.

  Si-hun waited. Heart steady now. Cold calcution. Approach from behind. Silent kills.

  He crept closer, desk leg in hand. The zombies feasted, backs turned. He assessed: Closest one, hunched over Min-ji's corpse. Angle clear—no witnesses from afar. Strike high, avoid noise. He swung—skull caving with a muffled thud. [Kill Confirmed: +1 Day.]

  Body slumped. Next: Two feeding on Sang-woo. Left one first—shadow hides the swing. Crack. [+1 Day.] Right one turned, jaws bloody. Si-hun pivoted, leg sweeping low. It fell; he stomped the head. Squish. [+1 Day.]

  Methodical. No rush. Blood slicked his hands, coppery tang in his nose. Groans faded as bodies dropped. Five down. [Lifespan Pool: 11 Days.] His own, plus the clone's shared gains? The link hummed—experiences transferring.

  The clone rejoined him, unscathed. Scout the van.

  But first: Deactivation. [Deactivate Clone? Y/N.] Y. The duplicate dissolved—flesh melting into mist, absorbed. Memories flooded in a torrent: The shove's force, zombie cws grazing skin, phantom scratches itching. Si-hun's head throbbed, sharp jabs like needles. He winced, knees buckling briefly. Pain echoed—bruises that weren't his, fear that lingered. Side effects. Power's price. He shook it off, breath ragged. Not just tools; echoes of death.

  Inside the hall, the fallen rose—Sang-woo's group, turning. Milky eyes, snarls. Si-hun advanced. No mercy. He bashed Sang-woo's reanimated head—revenge in the crunch. [+1 Day.] Min-ji's form lunged; he sidestepped, struck. [+1 Day.]

  All down. [Final Tally: +24 Days. Pool: 30 Days.] The horde and turncoats—total harvest.

  Exhaustion hit, but triumph burned. He dismissed the lingering ache. To the east lot. The van squatted there, doors ajar. Inside: meager haul. A few loaves of bread, mold speckling the edges. Water bottles, half-empty. Cans of tuna, dented.

  Si-hun's stomach growled. Food—the next crisis. Rotting world, supplies dwindling.

  The system pinged. [Progress: 50/100 Days Accumuted. Level 2: Basic Item Duplication Unlocking Soon.]

  Duplicate. Food from one to two. Salvation.

  But footsteps echoed—distant, human. Another group? Or worse.

  Si-hun pocketed a bottle, eyes narrowing. Trust no one. Farm them all.