Mad in the Horde

It was the climactic moment of my game, but the enemy's flash bang blinded me. After I reopened my eyes, I found myself in the world of the post-apocalyptic underdog comeback story I'd ranted about to my friend the day before.

No, I wasn't the protagonist with a cheat for a system. Instead, I was the cannon fodder who suffered the worst fate. He also had my name.

I found myself locked outside the armored vehicle while a swarm of high-level zombies had surrounded me. 'Blast,' I thought. 'All this just because I flamed them? And I just made a pentakill after my 8-win streak!'

I told myself to calm down and let my mind do its work, but then the laughter of this body's wife echoed from the walkie-talkie. "Stop covering for him, gunners! We're livestreaming to the whole camp. My husband's going to rip these Tier Six zombies to shreds!"

Then, the woman's useless male best friend buzzed with excitement. "I'll have a permanent spot in the inner city if he distracts the horde and they rip him apart in the process, babe!"

If this went the way of the original story, I'd beg for help only to get no answer and be ripped apart by the zombies.

Fortunately, I wasn't the same coward this guy used to be.

The woman kept egging me on. I sneered. I didn't spend years playing competitive games for nothing.

And so, I grabbed a high-frequency concussion grenade that could get the attention of every single zombie in a 3-mile radius, smashed the ventilation valve of the armored vehicle, and hurled the grenade inside.

Not the Same Person

I led Team Alpha into a Rank S high-infection zone, fought deadly battles, and finally grasped the original serum antibodies in an abandoned underground military lab. That was humanity's hope. I held off the horde just to cover for my team's retreat.

I carved a bloody path despite facing tens of thousands of zombies and dragged my wounded self to the armored vehicle. I initially thought my teammates would welcome me, and my wife would hug me, but instead, the vehicle's door was firmly locked.

Roars belonging to high-tier zombies came from every direction. Overhead, micro drones trained their cams on me, showing the camp's survivors how wounded and in despair I was.

Wade Carter, Jasmine Cole's male best friend, was a useless bum who couldn't muster the guts to kill even a single, regular zombie even though it'd been three years since the apocalypse.

However, he was now ordering me around like he was a king. I heard his voice coming from the military-grade walkie-talkie as he arrogantly said, "Don't just stand there, Jason! You heard Jasmine! Move it! Run right to the eastern ruins and distract the Tier Six zombies!

"You'll never hear the end of it if they scratch the vehicle's bulletproof glass and get in my way of going to the inner city!"

The b*stards were yelling at me from the safety of the vehicle. The zombie virus was quickly spreading through my calf, numbing my body. I clenched my hand around my blade, veins throbbing.

This was where the original Jason got ripped apart by the incoming horde, meeting his demise thanks to treachery.

I was not that cannon fodder. Instead, I was a pro esports player who was used to high-stress situations, and turning the tables in seemingly impossible situations was my thing.

A group of hulking, strength-type zombies was charging straight at me from fifty yards away. I could hear their roars. Every step they took would shake the road. Behind them, countless infected followed.

Jasmine and Wade were still laughing from within the vehicle. I calmly raised my left hand and clicked two buttons hidden on the side of my tactical helmet.

"Video recording synced."