Hugo woke up refreshed and ready for the day, blinking at the ceiling. The same m light filtered through the curtains, and the same quiet reminded him that the world outside was still dead. But today, he wasn’t going to just survive—he was going to secure his territory.

  He sat up, rubbing his face befng at Salem, who y curled on his side. The cat barely stirred, stretg a single paw before resettling. Hugo exhaled slowly.

  “Guess I should get moving.”

  The past loops had shown him enough. He’d cleared parts of the building, gathered supplies, and survived some serious fights. But he needed trol. The first floor was still a liability, and until it was clear, he wasn’t truly safe.

  Hugo sat at his kit table, flipping through an old notebook he had found during a previous loop. Most of the pages were useless—half-written recipes, some notes from his old job—but he turo a fresh page and started writing.

  The loop resets when I die.

  If I die, everythis. All items, progress, as are wiped out like nothing ever happened.

  If I sleep, I “save” progress at that moment (only if it’s more than 15 minutes).

  Napping often = less time to react to threats.

  Avoiding sleep = more time to explore, but exhaustion slows me down.

  Nothing carries over when I die—only my knowledge.

  He tapped the pen against the table. This was the key to everything. No matter what, he had to stay alive long enough to sleep if he wao keep moving forward.

  After a couple of days of eating and regaining his strength, Salem was in full health and more active than before. He no longer moved sluggishly or slept all day. Instead, he followed Hugo around the apartment, his eyes sharp, his tail flig with curiosity.

  When Hugo prepared to leave, Salem insisted on going with him. At first, Hugo refused, worried that the cat would get in the way or put himself in danger. But Salem was determined. No matter how many times Hugo set him down, he would leap bato the backpack, eyes locked onto Hugo like he was making a statement.

  “Damn stubborn cat,” Hugo muttered, finally relenting. “Fine. But you stay close. No running off.”

  Salem blinked slowly, as if accepting the deal, aled himself into the front pocket of Hugo’s backpack, where he could keep an eye ohing while staying out of trouble.

  Hugo equipped himself carefully before heading out.

  Baseball bat—no nails this time.

  Kit knife—deadly up close, though he hated using it.

  Bck leather jacket with magaziaped to his arms and shins for bite prote.

  Motorcycle helmet—he wasn’t taking ces with head injuries anymore.

  Extra food and water—just in case.

  Salem, led in his backpack, watg everything.

  He moved toward the stairwell. The first floor was the real battlefield. It was the orao the building, and he knew from past loops that it still had a rge cluster of zombies inside.

  As he stepped off the st stair, he stayed low, keeping to the shadows. He had two choices—ght for the biggest group and risk a fight, or lure them out one by one.

  He chose the smart way.

  Hugo found a piece of rubble on the floor and tossed it down the hallway. The sound echoed, and sure enough, a lone zombie peeled away from the group. A man in a security uniform, his vest still intact, his dead eyes locked onto the noise.

  “Alright, let’s do this,” Hugo muttered.

  The zombie guard looked tough to deal with. He had a Kevr vest with a riot helmet. The vest absorbed some of the blows from Hugo’s bat, making it harder to put him down. It took four heavy swings to the legs before the thing colpsed. He then jumped on its bad tried to remove the helmet to kill it with his knife. After a long struggle, he succeeded.

  Hugo barely had time to recover before he heard the unmistakable groan of another zombie nearby.

  He turned, heart pounding, as another one lunged from a nearby doorway. This one was different—a massive, heavy-set man, his bloated body barely fitting in the doorframe.

  “Oh, e on,” Hugo breathed, gripping his bat tighter.

  The fat zombie was slow but powerful. Its swipes were wide and reckless, f Hugo to dud weave instead of going in for quick kills. When he finally mao nd a solid hit to the head, the damn thing didn’t even go down.

  Hugo was breathing hard, his arms ag, but he kept swinging. On the sixth brutal strike, the zombie finally colpsed, twitg on the ground befoing still.

  He exhaled heavily, his breath fogging up the inside of the motorcycle helmet.

  That was two more down.

  Then he heard it.

  A low, guttural growl from deeper ihe hallway.

  Hugo’s stomach dropped.

  The dog.

  He didn’t hesitate. He turned and ran.

  The sound of cws scraping against the floor shot up behind him, the ied hound ung itself into pursuit.

  Salem, startled by the sudden chase, jumped out of the bag in a panid bolted ahead of Hugo, his small frame dartiically as he tried to get away.

  “Salem, no!” Hugo shouted, his heart leaping to his throat.

  The sound of cws was getting louder. Hugo barreled toward the stairwell, his legs burning with the effort.

  He risked one gnce over his shoulder—the dog was gaining on him fast.

  He reached the stairwell door and smmed it shut, but he wasn’t fast enough. The dog’s head and one paw got through the gap, its jaws snapping wildly just inches away from his leg.

  Panic surged through Hugo as he instinctively pressed all his weight against the door, trapping the dog i ure luot skill. He didn’t pn for this. The animal thrashed and snarled, its cws scraping at the floor in a desperate attempt to free itself.

  His knife was already in his hand. Without thinking, he drove the bde into the dog’s skull, over and over, until the snarling stopped.

  Panting, he stepped back, hands shaking, staring at the lifeless body wedged in the doorframe. He had barely survived that.

  As the adrenaline wore off, Salem crept cautiously back toward the corpse, his fur still puffed up from fear. He hissed once before swiping a paw across the dead dog's face, his cws raking over its lifeless snout as if to make sure it stayed down.

  Hugo exhaled a shaky breath. “Yeah, I feel the same way, buddy.”

  For once, luck had been on his side.

  The rest of the day ent clearing out the remaining zombies. Hugo knew he couldn’t stop now. He took multiple breaks, pag himself, but he kept going, methodically luring them out and taking them down. One by one.

  By nightfall, his muscles were sore, his knuckles bruised, and his body felt heavy with exhaustion. But the first floor was almost clear. Almost. The only thi was to clear the apartments. The hallways were free of undead. The step was to remove the corpses and barricade all the windows and the front door.

  The m, he woke up still sore from all the fighting the previous day. His m routine of exerg was rougher than usual, the soreness making it difficult, but he pushed through. It was important to stay fit to have a better ce of survival.

  His pn for the day was to barricade the first floor as best he could and up all the corpses lying around. Looting the Kevr vest from the guard was also high on his list of priorities.

  As he went downstairs to talk to the neighbor, he noticed something in front of the apartment door. All the food he had given sihe beginning was there, untouched. The water was missing, though.

  He knocked on the door, stepping aside as always.

  A gruff voiswered. "Got plenty of food. Water’s aory. Didn’t pn for it to shut off this soon."

  Hugo frowned. "You didn’t stock up?"

  A pause. "Had some. Not enough. Thought it’d st longer."

  Hugo sighed, rubbing his temple. "Alright. I’ll see what I do."

  As Hugo tinued speaking with the neighbor, he mentiohat he had set up tainers on the roof to collect raio his surprise, the old man grunted in aowledgment.

  “I got a tarp and a barrel,” the neighbor muttered through the door. “Might as well do it right. We’ll set it up ter.”

  Hugo raised an eyebrow. “Wait—you’re actually to help?”

  A pause. Then, “Just don’t screw it up.”

  Hugo smirked. It wasn’t much, but it rogress.

  “One more thing,” the old man added. “Get rid of that damn rope to your baly. I don’t like it.”

  Hugo sighed. “Fine.”

  As he walked away, he couldn't help but feel a small sense of aplishment. Slowly but surely, he was making progress with the old man downstairs.

  After clearing the first floor, Hugo khe step—getting rid of the bodies. If he left them ihey would rot, attrag flies and disease. Worse, the stench might lure more uo the building.

  Before taking the first body outside, he took a moment to thhly the Kevr vest he had taken from the security guard. Using some spare rags and water, he scrubbed off the dried blood and grime. It wasn’t perfect, but it was wearable now. O dried, he’d wear it under his leather jacket.

  It was the first time he had stepped outside in weeks, aside from the roof. He moved carefully, dragging the corpses toward the entrahe door creaked as he cracked it open, his pulse hammering. A deep breath. Slow movements.

  Stepping out, he felt the sun on his face for the first time in what felt like forever. The street was eerily quiet. He spotted some zombies far away, shuffling aimlessly, but none seemed to notice him. He held his breath as he worked, hauling each body one by oo the sidewalk and stag them he curb.

  The rge zombie was by far the worst to move. Hugo had to grab it by the arms and drag it inch by inch, his muscles screaming with effort. The sheer weight of the bloated corpse made it feel like he ulling a dead cow. He gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip, a going. Sweat dripped down his face as he finally heaved it over the threshold and out onto the pavement. It hit the ground with a siing thud.

  It was slow, grueling work. Every time he stepped outside, he felt exposed, his muscles tensed, waiting for something to g.

  Eace toward the street sent a fresh wave of ahrough him. He half-expected the distant zombies to turn their heads, to suddenly break into a sprint toward him. But they never did.

  Whe body was out, he took a final gnce around before shutting the door, seg it tightly. He leaned against it, taking a moment to catch his breath. The buildi safer already.

  Now, it was time to reinforce the entrances. Hugo gathered whatever furniture he could find—desks, chairs, even a heavy filing et from one of the apartment. He wedged them against the main door, yering them until it would take signifit force to break through.

  Stepping back, he studied his work. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hold.

  Hugo let out a tired sigh, looking at Salem, who was now sitting on a ter, watg him with an unreadable expression.

  “Well, buddy,” Hugo muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. “That’s ohing to worry about.”

  The cat flicked his tail, as if unimpressed, before curling up into a ball. Hugo shook his head with a chuckle. The job was done. For now.