Character creation: The Jackal

The jeep jolted along the interstate service road, riddled with cracks and weeds, its engine breaking the surrounding silence.

No one spoke inside the vehicle. There was only the crunch of tires over gravel and heavy breathing.

Lynn leaned against the dusty passenger seat, eyes closed, his consciousness sinking into the system interface only he could see.

[Character creation authorization x1 awaiting use]

[Host, please specify the created character's field of expertise:]

A selection box appeared: [Scientific research], [Firearms], [Medicine], [Martial arts], [General survival], [Other (please describe)]

Lynn did not hesitate. He mentally selected [Firearms].

In this apocalypse, where bullets were more precious than food, a top firearms expert could directly improve the team's survival rate and deterrent power.

The zoo base needed that, and his team needed someone like that even more.

[Field confirmed: Firearms]

[Generating three suitable character templates based on the host's current world setting and requirements...]

The text on the interface vanished. Three clear portraits appeared in a row, with brief profiles beneath them.

The first:

An Asian man with an extremely short buzz cut, a hard face, and a cold expression. A tiny black crosshair was tattooed beneath his left eye, near his cheekbone.

Codename: Jackdaw.

Background: Former chief sniper instructor for a certain country's covert unit. Expert in modifying and calibrating all known standard-issue firearms, extreme marksmanship, and battlefield environment assessment.

Flaws: Emotionally detached, difficult to communicate with.

Loyalty: Absolute (to the host).

The second:

A blond European man whose lips seemed to hold a faint smile, yet deep in his blue eyes there was only cold focus. The background resembled an ID photo, with a tear in the lower right corner.

Codename: The Jackal.

Background: World-class professional assassin, independent contractor, weapons expert. Specialized in extreme long-range sniping and silent assassinations in special environments. Proficient in disguise, infiltration, and traps. An expert in melee weapons combat.

Flaws: Extremely self-centered, acts based on calculations and self-interest, potential risk of losing control.

Loyalty: Absolute (only to the host's commands).

The third:

A burly, unkempt white man with a full beard and greasy hair plastered to his forehead. He grinned, fanaticism in his eyes, against a background of a cluttered workbench piled with gun parts and tools.

Codename: Trigger.

Background: Former top underground black-market weapons modifier/smuggler. Possesses an innate intuition for firearm mechanisms. Skilled at turning worn-out weapons into effective killing tools. Expert in heavy weapons modifications and specialized ammunition manufacture.

Flaws: Emotionally excitable and unstable, shows tendencies toward dependence on explosives, unable to manage everyday life independently.

Loyalty: Absolute (to the host).

Three choices, three styles and sets of risks.

Jackdaw: reliable, but like a cold tool, lacking flexibility.

Trigger: a technical genius who could upgrade their firepower, but a major problem himself, prone to causing trouble.

The Jackal: efficient, versatile, like a sharp knife, but one that could cut the hand if mishandled. That "potential risk of losing control" warning stood out.

Lynn's gaze swept over the three portraits.

The zoo base needed deterrent power. It needed a knife that could resolve trouble quickly.

The situation at the camp Glenn had mentioned was unclear. Shane was no pushover, and Rick's return would cause upheaval... He needed a professional who could execute orders precisely in complicated situations and handle high-threat targets independently.

Jackdaw was too rigid. Trigger was too crazy.

The Jackal's assassin background meant he understood more than guns. He understood people, environments, and solutions outside the rules. Absolute obedience to commands was the key.

As for the risk... Lynn's gaze shifted slightly.

As long as he kept it properly under control, the risk was acceptable.

He mentally selected the portrait of the European man with the faint smile and icy eyes-the Jackal.

[Character template selected: The Jackal]

[Creation procedure initiated... Generating...]

On the interface, streams of data covered the Jackal's portrait, and the progress bar began to move.

Lynn exited the system and opened his eyes. Outside the window, scenes of an abandoned town swept past, and the quarry's pale gray rock faces drew closer in the distance.

"We're almost there!"

Glenn pointed ahead from the back seat and called out, his voice carrying the ease of coming home, with a trace of tension hidden beneath it.

He glanced at the silent Rick, then at the largely expressionless Lynn in the passenger seat.

The jeep turned off the service road, rolling over a rutted dirt-and-gravel track and kicking up dust.

Crude roadblocks appeared along the roadside-abandoned cars and wooden posts wrapped in barbed wire.

Warning graffiti had been scrawled across the rock face.

The vehicle rounded the final bend, and an open stretch of ground at the edge of an enormous quarry pit came into view.

The camp.

A few old tents stood scattered across the clearing.

An old white Airstream trailer sat in the middle, with solar panels and a satellite dish mounted on its roof.

Beside the trailer, a gray-haired elderly man in a baseball cap (Dale) was fiddling with a radio.

Several sallow, gaunt survivors huddled around a smoking campfire. At the sight of the unfamiliar jeep rushing toward them, they scrambled to their feet in alarm, some grabbing clubs or knives close at hand.

The jeep braked hard at the edge of camp, sending a cloud of dust into the crowd and drawing coughs and low cries.

The doors opened.

Lynn climbed out first, his gaze quickly sweeping the entire camp. Fewer than twenty people. The conditions were even more basic than he had imagined, and the defenses were weak.

His gaze settled beside the trailer-on a tall man in a filthy police uniform, holding a shotgun, his eyes sharp (Shane).

Beside him stood a haggard brown-haired woman (Lori), tightly holding the hand of a small, thin blond boy (Carl).

Carl stared wide-eyed at the unfamiliar vehicle and people.

Shane's eyes were full of wariness and scrutiny, along with a trace of darkness.

When he made out Rick climbing out of the back seat in a tattered hospital gown, his gaze froze as though he had seen a ghost. A muscle in his face twitched violently, and his fingers tightened around the gun until they turned white.

"Rick...?"

Shane's voice was dry, full of shock.

"Shane..." Rick's voice was just as hoarse. His gaze passed over Shane and locked onto Lori and Carl, his body trembling with excitement. "Lori! Carl!"

"Dad?!"

Carl's cry, filled with immense surprise and uncertainty, broke the camp's silence.

Lori clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening as tears spilled out. She swayed, staring at the man who seemed to have crawled back from hell, the enormous shock leaving her speechless.

The shock of the reunion spread through the camp.

Glenn, T-Dog, and Andrea climbed out as well. Merle ambled out last and folded his arms to watch the show.

Dale put down his radio and watched in surprise.

The other survivors began murmuring among themselves.

Lynn stood beside the jeep, watching it all coldly.

The mission targets-Rick and his core associates-were confirmed alive. The mission was halfway complete.

But joy was not the only thing in the air.

The shock, jealousy, panic, and suppressed viciousness churning in Shane's eyes were clearly visible.

Just then, at the edge of Lynn's vision, the system interface silently unfolded, its progress bar complete:

[Character: The Jackal generated successfully]

[Deployment coordinates: Safe area within a 100-meter radius of the host's current location (woods southeast of the camp)]

[Implanted identity: A "security consultant" recruited by the host, Lynn, before the crisis broke out in Atlanta]

[Deployment complete]

The corner of Lynn's mouth moved slightly. At the center of the storm, he placed a piece on the board.

This knife was ready.