Newcomers

Kirk felt his eyelids growing heavy. The night before, he'd binged the American drama The Walking Dead, and it had been past five by the time he finally drifted off to sleep.

Sunlight shone on his face, a little too bright, and Kirk was not happy.

"Mom, why'd you open the curtains again? I'm not having breakfast today," he called out.

Then all was quiet for a moment. Kirk smacked his lips in satisfaction, ready to enjoy one more sweet stretch of sleep.

But instead of his mother's affectionate hands stroking him, a heavy kick slammed into the most vulnerable spot beneath his ribs. The pain made Kirk's mouth gape and his tongue loll out. He managed two strangled cries, but couldn't get any words out.

"Damn it, who the hell are you? You trying to get yourself killed?" The piercing pain chased away his drowsiness. He gritted his teeth and opened his eyes.

A US Soldier's boot was planted on his face, making it hard for Kirk to breathe.

Kirk couldn't make sense of what was happening. Wasn't he supposed to be asleep in his own bed? Yesterday had been Friday, hadn't it? So today should be Saturday—the day he got to sleep in and take it easy. It should be...

But the big boot lifted again, then came stomping down hard! Kirk's face took another beating, and the back of his head struck the wall. Blood poured merrily from his nose and eyes. At last, he screamed, "Don't hit me! My family will pay you! Big brother, we can talk this out! I'll cooperate, turn over a new leaf, and become a better man!"

"Get up! Next time, I'll kick the shit right out of your mouth!" a white European-American man roared.

What the hell? Who was this? Kirk scrambled to his feet and glared at him.

The man before him was a one-armed white European-American, 190 centimeters tall and as strong as a lion. He also had very big feet. (Kirk said, "Seriously, can we not talk about that?") Most striking of all, his right arm had been severed at the wrist, replaced by a sharp, gleaming wrist blade.

"That looks like Mori Dixon," Kirk thought with a start. "Could I have watched so much of The Walking Dead that I'm dreaming about it? This is one hell of a bad dream."

But a punch from the white man landed squarely on Kirk's face, bringing him back to reality and proving that he wasn't dreaming.

"Why'd you hit me?" Kirk cried, clutching his face. Damn it, don't hit me in the face. I need this handsome face.

"Why'd I hit you?" Mori bared his teeth, wearing the same wicked expression as before.

"No reason. Just because I pulled you out of a zombie horde and saved your ass a minute ago." Mori pressed his rough, broad face close to Kirk's, then suddenly shrieked hysterically.

"Pretty boy, so what if I hit you?"

Kirk backed away in a panic until he hit the wall. Mori was a classic villain in the show, and a timid shut-in like Kirk was naturally terrified of him.

"Yeah, I know you're a wimp." Mori spat contemptuously. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking, saving a loser like you!"

Kirk was furious. How dare he insult him! Just as Kirk was about to blow up, Mori plunged a knife down.

Kirk cried out in terror. "Don't kill me! I don't have any money."

The tip of the knife struck the concrete wall beside Kirk's face. The blade's icy touch raised goose bumps all over his skin.

Mori still wore that carefree expression. He patted Kirk's face in satisfaction, let go of the knife with his left hand, and tossed out a few words.

"This is your weapon. Come with me."

Kirk steadied himself, then struggled to pull the dagger out of the wall. Without a word, he followed Mori, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what had happened.

Just then, a cold, computer-generated voice rang inside Kirk's head.

"Trial-taker No. 4444 has entered the TWD-01 scene (The Walking Dead).

Timeline synchronization complete.

Trial-taker No. 4444, this is your first time entering the space. Would you like to view the new-player guide? Yes/No."

"Damn, did I get sucked into some kind of Nightmare Space like the one in Ultimate Evolution? Does this mean I've struck it rich?" Kirk quickly chose yes.

The cold electronic voice sounded again.

"You are a newcomer who has just entered the space. This is your Novice Trial. Treasure this opportunity, because it will determine whether you can survive, and for how long.

"Your personal attributes are currently:

Strength 3 (5)—A person's strength determines melee damage, carrying capacity, and checks involving weapons, armor, and other factors.

Agility 3 (5)—A person's agility determines ranged damage, running and walking speed, dodge chance, and other factors.

Vitality 3 (5)—A person's vitality determines total health, physical resistance, abnormal status, and other factors.

Intelligence 6 (5)—A person's intelligence determines total energy and resistance to elemental forces, among other factors.

Wisdom 5 (5)—A person's wisdom determines mastery of magic/Immortal Techniques/supernatural abilities, as well as affinity for magic/Immortal Techniques/supernatural abilities.

Charisma 2 (5)—A person's charisma determines how Plot Characters treat you and indirectly affects the plot, among other factors.

"The values in parentheses are the normal values for a 25-year-old male Earthling.

"Abilities acquired in the real world: None.

"Based on a comprehensive evaluation, your overall strength rating is D- (the normal rating for a 25-year-old man is C)."

After staring in shock for a long while, Kirk finally erupted. "What the hell is this? I taught myself martial arts for a whole semester in college so I could look cool and pick up girls! I stuck with running for a whole month to lose weight! Other people enter the space with supernatural abilities or a stash of Innate Spirit Treasures! I'm the ultimate loser! At the very least, I'm supposedly a handsome, dashing young man—how can my charisma be this pathetic? Come on, am I right?"

Remembering the seemingly polite but actually brutal rejection he'd received from the prettiest girl in his college class, and comparing it to his laughably low charisma, Kirk, a stereotypical loser, had tears in his eyes and blood dripping from his heart...

The space ignored Kirk's hysterics and stated coldly, without a trace of emotion, "These values have been fairly assigned based on your physical fitness and intelligence. Would you like to view information about this trial scene?"

Kirk cursed for a while, but he knew he rarely exercised and had none of the basic requirements for high attributes. He chose "Yes" listlessly.

Then a set of data appeared in his mind.

"Novice Trial scene TWD-01 (The Walking Dead 01).

Scene Nature: [Free Scene] [Movie Scene].

Scene Difficulty: [Novice Trial Difficulty].

Location: Outskirts of Atlanta City, Georgia, USA.

Personal Attribute Adjustment: Novice Trial; attributes increased by 50%. After the adjustment, Contractor No. 4444 has:

Strength 4 (3) Agility 4 (3) Vitality 4 (3) Intelligence 9 (6) Wisdom 7 (5) Charisma 3 (2) (values in parentheses are the newcomer's original attributes; adjustments have been completed).

Pain Weakening: 80%.

Main Mission: Survive. All you have to do is survive for seven days in this hell of the walking dead!

"Based on your ability rating and this Novice Trial scene, the trial grounds offer this advice: Find a way to stay alive."

"What a useless piece of advice." Kirk thought, "This isn't good. The Main Mission is just to survive, which seems to mean that staying alive counts as a win. Sounds pretty difficult."

Then, as he thought about it, he walked straight into Mori's solid back.

Kirk yelped, "I didn't mean to get all cuddly with you!"

Mori glared at him viciously. "Make another sound and I'll kill you!"

Kirk took a closer look and sucked in a sharp breath.

Before them lay a scene straight out of Midgard Hell.

A long, seemingly endless line of cars crowded the side of the highway leading out of the city. The lanes going the other way were empty—not a single car in sight. Yet there was no bustling traffic anywhere. Everything was silent.

There were dead bodies, blood, and severed limbs all over the cars.

Mori led Kirk carefully through the long line of vehicles.

Kirk was terrified. Zombie shows were his great passion, and Resident Evil was his favorite. But he'd never expected that seeing so many dead bodies would scare him this much. No big-budget production could capture a scene this hellish.

A family of four lay dead inside a modern SUV. The father was on his back, his throat torn open. The mother and two children were slumped together in the back seat. The father's corpse had rotted. His lifeless eyeballs bulged like those of a dead fish, their cloudy whites filling his entire eye sockets.

Flocks of huge crows circled overhead, swooping down now and then to tear at the dead and carry off a piece of rotting flesh. Their feathers were glossy black, and they were as big as small eagles. Their eyes were bright red, and they looked fat from eating corpses. Blood seeped from their drill-like black beaks, and scraps of human flesh clung to their talons.

Mori walked ahead with a grave expression, bent low. He glanced back, making a threatening gesture for Kirk to be quiet, then motioned across his throat. The meaning was clear: "Stay quiet, or I'll kill you!"

As a seasoned shut-in who'd watched all of The Walking Dead, Kirk naturally understood the importance of moving quietly. He nodded and tiptoed along behind Mori.

Now, in the stench of corpses, Kirk began to feel a little steadier with Mori, the thug he'd both hated and feared, nearby.

Was this just a weakling's instinct to cling to someone stronger, or did Kirk secretly have a thing for men?

Kirk mocked himself silently.

The two of them slowly made their way past one abandoned vehicle after another. As he watched the crows picking over the corpses, Kirk felt a wave of sorrow.

Was this humanity's future?

Mori shot Kirk a cold glance. Kirk shuddered and began pretending to scout the area in every direction.

The two of them went farther and farther through the traffic and piles of corpses.