Rot & Ruin

Carter's sharp gaze swept over the gathered warriors—not modern soldiers, but men of a lost age, their raw strength and primal instincts forged in the crucible of survival.

Their skin was weathered, their bodies scarred, and their expressions held an intensity that was neither mindless nor docile.

Dressed in animal hides, their muscular frames seemed almost carved from stone.

They carried clubs of hardened wood, spears of sharpened bone, and axes hewn from flint.

Cavemen.

Yet, despite their prehistoric appearance, they stood in formation, silent, awaiting command.

Something about their unwavering posture unsettled him.

The system had already confirmed these summons of his were human, but just as he was about to lead them on their first hunt of the undead, he stopped.

Carter hesitated, then glanced back at the warriors.

"Wait,"

he said, his voice quieter than he expected.

"Do you… have names?"

The cavemen exchanged looks, their brows furrowing in confusion.

Then, one stepped forward.

He was the one larger than the rest, his hair tangled, his chest broad and thick with muscle.

He gripped a massive club, its surface worn smooth by years of use.

"No name,"

he grunted.

Another warrior, this one leaner and carrying a flint-tipped spear, nodded in agreement.

"No name."

Carter blinked.

They truly had nothing—not even an identity beyond what the system had given them, which is pretty much what it said when it had stated they'd have no memories until after their summoning.

The thought struck him as absurd… yet deeply dehumanizing.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah,"

he said softly,

"we'll fix that later."

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"After we clear this building, I'll give you all names. Consider it your reward for a job well done."

The warriors grunted in approval, some even nodding.

Did they understand the meaning of his words?

Perhaps.

But one thing was certain: there was something behind their eyes.

Not mindless obedience.

Not blank servitude.

Something more.

Something dangerous.

Carter turned to the door once more, gripping his knife tightly.

"Alright,"

he said, taking a deep breath.

"Let's move out."

With a firm push, he swung the door open, stepping into the unknown, his pack of prehistoric warriors at his back.

The hallway was dim, the lights along the walls flickering erratically, casting warped, jagged shadows that danced across the cracked stone floor.

Even the air itself felt tense, as if the building were holding its breath.

The warriors moved in unison, their silent footfalls eerie in the oppressive darkness.

Spears and clubs were raised, muscles taut, ready to strike at the first sign of movement.

Carter took the lead, his knuckles white as he gripped his weapon.

He knew the layout of the structure better than anyone else.

This was his den, his hunting ground as it were.

And that meant the responsibility of guiding them weighed entirely on him.

They approached the stone staircase, their movements calculated and measured.

Carter's heart pounded.

This was foreign territory for him—an area he had never ventured into before, since the changing of the world.

Then—movement.

A shadow lunged from the broken lighting, an inhuman snarl ripping through the silence.

A creature, once human, but now little more than a ravenous beast.

It lunged toward the largest warrior—the one who had first spoken.

"Contact!"

Carter barked.

The warrior did not hesitate.

He pivoted, lifting his massive club in one fluid motion.

With a roar, he swung.

CRACK.

The impact was deafening—bone shattered, flesh caved in, and the zombie collapsed into a twitching heap, blackened blood pooling beneath its broken skull.

The warrior stepped back, breathing heavily, eyes flickering with something primal and raw.

A new system notification flashed before Carter's eyes.

[Mission Objectives: Kill 50 Infected - 1/50.]

[You received 20 Experience Points.]

[You received 200 Dollars]

Carter exhaled sharply.

One down.

"Chief,"

the largest warrior turned to him, gripping his club tightly,

"We… hunt more?"

Carter's lips curled into a small, grim grin.

"Yes."

The warriors spread out, sweeping each corridor like a hunting party.

Their movements were practiced, and disciplined, and despite their primitive weapons, they moved as one, their instincts razor-sharp.

Thankfully the building he lived in was not that grand, only being six floors, so they only needed to climb a single flight before reaching the top, but once there they had started to clear the floor breaking down doors like human battering rams, and instinctively the cavemen moved to protect him, preventing any harm from befalling their chief.

Carter stayed in the center, his warriors surrounding him protectively, watching every shadow, every flicker of movement, if made sense in the end as much as he didn't want to further dehumanize them, he could always summon more cavemen, but he couldn't resurrect himself.

Each door was broken down.

Some were barricaded—survivors hiding, trembling within, only to find themselves face to face with the hulking humans breaking into their homes.

Others swung open, revealing nothing.

And then…

There were the ones that were not empty.

Another zombie lurched forward.

A lean warrior, armed with a stone-tipped spear, reacted instantly.

With a single thrust, the spear sank into the creature's eye socket, driving deep into its brain.

It collapsed without a sound.

A third abomination crawled from a darkened doorway, its rotted fingers dragging it forward.

One of the warriors, this one younger, smaller, hesitated for just a fraction of a second to shoot javelin looking short spear in his hand.

The creature lunged.

Carter reacted on instinct.

His knife shot forward, driving into the undead's throat, pinning it against the wall.

The zombie writhed, a low, gurgling moan rattling from its ruined throat.

Carter drove the knife deeper, twisting.

The struggling stopped.

For a moment, silence fell upon the corridor.

Then, slowly, the warriors turned to look at Carter.

A slow nod of approval passed between them.

He was not just prey.

He was one of them.

The system flashed again.

[Mission Objectives: Kill 50 Infected - 4/50.]

[You received 600 Dollars.]

[You received 60 Experience Points.]

[New Skill Acquired: Mental Resistance Lv.1 – Grants resilience against fear, madness, and stress during combat situations.]

Carter took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders.

Something inside him had shifted.

Something primal.

The hunt had begun, as did the joy of earning rewards gained from slaying the undead.

And Carter was no longer just a survivor.

He was the leader of the pack.

His grip on the knife tightened as he turned to his warriors.

"We move forward."

The warriors grinned—a row of sharp teeth flashing in the dim light.

A collective low growl of anticipation rumbled through the pack.

The cavemen warriors had tasted blood.

And now, they would hunt until the world was theirs again.