Zombie Apocalypse: I Gain Access to In-Game System

Snow blanketed the road ahead in uneven sheets, swallowing the faint tire marks left behind by those who had once dared to cross Shinonome Pass. The headlights of the truck pierced through the fog like narrow blades of white, illuminating the skeletal remains of guardrails and shattered road signs that jutted from the slopes like broken bones.

The air grew thinner with every meter of elevation. The diesel engine groaned as the road inclined, gears grinding as Riku kept a steady hand on the wheel. The truck's heater had long since given up, and every breath fogged the air inside.

No one spoke for the first hour.

Only the engine's low rumble and the occasional rattle from loose equipment broke the silence.

Yui was awake, sitting beside her sleeping brother, her small hands clutching the edge of a blanket. Hana leaned close, trying to whisper comfort. Ken fiddled with the spare radio, tapping the speaker in vain. Suzune and Ichika took turns watching the road through the narrow slits of their rifle scopes.

The signal from the radio had gone quiet again.

It had been nearly thirty minutes since that faint transmission—"Shinonome… coordinates… need help…"—and though Riku kept tuning the dial, all he found now was static.

Suzune finally broke the silence. "We're losing altitude gain too fast. You notice that?"

Riku nodded. "Yeah. The road's shifting east, hugging the ridge. Means the main pass might be collapsed."

Ichika groaned. "Collapsed, ambushed, haunted—pick your poison."

"Wouldn't be the first time we had to clear a way through," Riku muttered.

Suzune peered through the windshield. "You sure that signal was real?"

"Sounded real enough," he said.

Ichika leaned back, cracking her neck. "And if it's another trap?"

Riku's eyes stayed on the road. "Then we'll spring it on our terms."

By dawn, the fog began to thin, replaced by the pale glow of morning. The truck crested a sharp curve, and the landscape widened into a sprawling gorge below—an enormous scar carved through the mountain.

The pass.

"Jesus…" Ichika whispered.

Where once a two-lane mountain road might have stretched between tunnels and ridges, there was now only ruin. Sections of asphalt dangled over nothing, their rebar skeletons twisting down into a fog-choked abyss. In the distance, an overturned bus hung halfway off the cliff, frozen mid-fall.

Riku killed the engine. "We walk from here."

Suzune nodded. "No way the truck makes it through that."

Emi frowned, glancing at the children. "Then what about them?"

"Stay with the vehicle," Riku said firmly. "If we're not back by nightfall, turn around and head for the valley. Stick to the river road. No risks."

Hana's face fell. "But—"

Riku crouched in front of her. "I need you to keep Yui safe, okay? Just until we get back."

The girl hesitated, then nodded.

Ichika slung her rifle and grinned. "Guess it's just the usual suicide team, then."

"Same as always," Suzune replied.

Riku checked his pack—three magazines, one spare radio, a flare gun, and two grenades clipped to his belt. "We move light. The signal came from somewhere near the ridge. Stay sharp."

They climbed out into the biting wind. The cold bit through their clothes, numbing fingers and cheeks. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they crossed the cracked remnants of the pass.

For the first half kilometer, the world was silent but for their breathing.

Then they found the first sign of life—or death.

Suzune spotted it first: a tent half-buried in snow, flapping weakly in the wind. The fabric was torn, riddled with bullet holes. Nearby, a body lay slumped against a rock, its arm reaching toward a shattered radio.

Ichika crouched beside it. "Civilian. No infection marks. Gunshot to the chest."

Riku knelt and checked the corpse's belt pouch—empty, save for a small scrap of paper.

Coordinates. The same ones from the transmission.

Suzune looked around. "So they were here."

"Yeah," Riku murmured. "But something went wrong."

"Story of the world," Ichika muttered.

They pressed onward, crossing the ruins of the road where twisted metal bridges barely held together. Once, they had to crawl across a broken section using a cable line, the gorge yawning hundreds of feet below.

As they reached the far side, the wind picked up—carrying a faint, unnatural sound.

A moan.

Not human.

"Contact," Suzune whispered.

Shapes moved through the fog ahead—slow, staggering silhouettes. The kind that made Riku's stomach tighten.

"Infected," he said.

He raised his rifle, lining the first one in his scope. Its face came into view—a man once, now hollow-eyed and frostbitten, skin split open across his jaw. A low growl rattled from its throat.

Riku fired once. The head snapped back, and it crumpled into the snow.

Two more emerged behind it.

"Keep distance," he ordered. "Sound draws more."

Suzune and Ichika took position behind an overturned truck, their shots precise and timed. Three, four, five bodies hit the snow.

Then came the silence again.

Ichika lowered her rifle. "Too easy."

"Don't jinx it," Riku said.

They advanced carefully. The slope ahead curved around a collapsed tunnel, where black soot still clung to the concrete walls. As they approached, a flicker of light appeared inside—a lantern glow, faint but real.

Suzune crouched. "Someone's alive."

Riku motioned for cover, creeping closer. He peered around the edge of the tunnel.

Inside were five people—thin, filthy, but unmistakably human. Two men, a woman, and a pair of teens. Their clothes were scavenged, their faces gaunt with exhaustion. A small fire burned between them, and one of the men held a pistol loosely in his lap.

Riku lowered his rifle slightly. "Civilians," he whispered.

Ichika smirked. "Well, look at that. Maybe your radio ghost was real after all."

They approached slowly, weapons visible but lowered. The pistol-wielding man stood up fast, aiming at them. "Stay back!"

"Easy," Riku said calmly. "We picked up your signal."

The man's eyes widened. "You… you heard it? We thought the transmitter was dead."

Suzune stepped forward, scanning the group. "You the ones from the Nagano refuge?"

"Yeah," said the woman. "We were trying to reach the eastern camps. There were thirty of us when we started…" She swallowed. "These are all that's left."

Riku nodded. "What happened?"

"Ambush," the man said bitterly. "Bandits hit us before the pass. We tried to fight back, but they had rifles, grenades. Half of us died before we even crossed the ridge. The rest…" He gestured toward the tunnel's rear. "Didn't make it through the night."

Suzune's jaw tightened. "You've been here since then?"

"Three days," the woman said. "We tried sending another signal, but the generator burned out."

Riku looked around—their supplies were almost gone. A few empty cans, one half-filled water jug, and the skeletal remains of someone who hadn't survived.

Ichika muttered, "You weren't kidding about the end of the line."

Riku crouched by the fire. "You said you were heading east. Why?"

"The Shinonome Refuge," the man said. "Government outpost. They said it was operational."

"Who said?" Suzune asked sharply.

The man hesitated. "A broadcast. A few weeks ago. Said they were rebuilding near the old hydro dam."

Ichika snorted. "Government outpost, my ass. The last one we found was full of corpses."

Riku frowned. "A dam would explain the signal strength. Could still be power there."

Suzune nodded slowly. "And if it's real…"

"It's worth finding out," Riku finished.

The man's expression wavered between hope and fear. "You're going there?"

Riku nodded. "We are now."

"You'll never make it on foot. The road ahead's blocked by a collapse. We tried climbing over, but there's something up there—"

He stopped.

"Something?" Suzune pressed.

The woman whispered, "It moves at night. We heard it tearing the others apart."

Ichika raised an eyebrow. "Great. Another bedtime story."

But the look in the survivors' eyes told Riku it wasn't just fear—it was memory.

He stood. "We'll move at first light. You stay put and rest. We'll scout the collapse."

The man nodded reluctantly.

By dawn, the storm had cleared. The sky above was pale blue, streaked with thin clouds.

Riku, Suzune, and Ichika climbed the slope leading to the tunnel's far end. The snow deepened near the crest, forcing them to wade knee-deep at times.

When they reached the top, they saw the collapse—a wall of rock, snow, and twisted vehicles blocking the pass entirely.

And something else.

Tracks.

Not human. Not infected. Large, circular impressions, almost clawed, leading toward the east side of the debris.

Suzune crouched to examine them. "What the hell made this?"

Ichika leaned closer. "It's too big for a Burner."

Riku's hand tightened on his rifle. "Whatever it is, it's not far."

A sudden crash echoed from the other side of the rocks—metal scraping, snow shifting. They froze.

Then, through the fog, a shape moved.

It was massive—easily three meters tall, humanoid but hunched. Its skin was pale gray, stretched tight over muscle. The face was wrong—like melted wax, with too many teeth and eyes that gleamed faintly yellow.

It sniffed the air, dragging one arm along the ground where jagged claws dug into the snow.

Suzune whispered, "Dear god…"

Ichika's voice was tight. "New variant?"

"Never seen one like that," Riku muttered.

The creature turned toward them.

"Down!" Riku shouted.

Gunfire erupted. Bullets tore through the fog, striking its chest—but it barely flinched. It roared, a sound that shook the ridge, and charged.

"Fall back!" Suzune yelled.

They scrambled down the slope as the thing smashed into the rock pile, sending chunks of debris tumbling. Ichika fired a grenade from her underslung launcher; it exploded at its feet, showering snow and flesh.

The creature staggered, then lunged again—faster this time.

Riku rolled aside, firing point-blank into its head. The fifth shot finally dropped it. The body fell, twitching, then went still.

Steam rose from its wounds.

Ichika breathed hard. "Tell me that's dead."

Riku aimed once more and fired into its skull. "Now it is."

Suzune exhaled slowly. "You think there are more?"

"There always are," Riku said grimly.

They checked the corpse—long black veins under the skin, no infection sores, but something worse: mutation. Its spine was fused with metal fragments, almost like shrapnel had grown into it.

Ichika grimaced. "Whatever made this thing, it's not natural."

"Nothing is anymore," Riku said.

By the time they returned to the tunnel, the survivors were already packing. The man's eyes widened at the sight of blood on their clothes.

"What happened?"

"Road's blocked," Riku said flatly. "But we cleared the threat."

The woman looked terrified. "You mean it?"

"Yeah."

Suzune checked her watch. "We move now before more show up."

They gathered what they could—packs, fuel cans, food—and began the trek east, following a narrow side trail that wound along the mountain.

Hours passed. The group slowed, exhaustion dragging every step. The children stumbled, and the weakest survivors leaned on makeshift crutches.

But eventually, the air changed. The faint scent of ozone and water filled the wind.

Riku looked up. Through the trees below, he saw it—metal towers, a spillway, and the broken shell of a hydroelectric facility nestled in the valley.

"The dam," Suzune said softly.

Ichika let out a low whistle. "Guess the legends were true."

Smoke rose faintly from one of the buildings.

Riku adjusted his rifle. "Then someone's still there."

Suzune looked at him. "Or something."

Riku nodded. "Either way, we find out."

They began their descent, the sun already dipping behind the peaks. The world below shimmered in fading light, a mixture of ruin and faint hope.

For the first time in months, Riku felt something that wasn't dread—something dangerously close to anticipation.

Shinonome Dam awaited.

And whatever truth it held might finally decide whether the world could still be rebuilt…

or if there was nothing left worth saving.