Vampire Overlord's Harem In The Apocalypse

Simon loomed over the man, his gaze fixed on the terrified face beneath him. The surroundings was dimly lit, casting long shadows that only highlighted the intensity of Simon's crimson eyes.

His fangs were sharp, visible in the flickering light, and his posture was predatory, as though the man was the prey.

The man's breath came in shallow gasps, his eyes darting desperately between Simon and the exit of the gas station, as if some escape might still be possible.

His mouth opened as if to speak, but nothing came out — his voice was lost in the face of overwhelming fear.

It was undeniable. The man had underestimated Simon. He'd thought Simon was just another weakling, an easy target.

Now, his earlier confidence had evaporated, replaced by raw terror.

"What are you?" the man finally managed, his voice trembling.

His hands pushed weakly to move away from Simon, but there was no strength behind them.

The World Ranking tab hovered above him, glowing with a soft blue light, a stark reminder of the strange world they now lived in.

The man's eyes flicked to the tab, and Simon could see the horror seep deeper into his features.

Simon leaned in closer, his voice cold, almost taunting. "I'm… someone you should fear," he said, his words low, carrying a weight that made the man's chest tighten. "And you're in my way."

The man's eyes widened in shock. For a moment, he looked like he might beg.

His fingers twitched toward his holstered gun, the familiar tool of defense, but Simon wasn't going to let him have that chance.

Without warning, Simon brought his foot down hard on the man's outstretched hand, and the sickening sound of bones shattering filled the gas station.

The man screamed, a raw, guttural cry that echoed off the walls.

He jerked, trying to pull his mangled hand back, but Simon was quicker. He grabbed the man by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease.

The man flailed, his legs kicking helplessly, his hands clawing at Simon's unyielding grip.

"Your time has come to an end," Simon said, his voice colder now, devoid of any sympathy.

The words felt almost too casual for the brutality he had just unleashed, but they were true nonetheless.

 Simon could feel the man's pulse weaken under his grip, the desperation in his eyes turning to something far more primal.

The man's body convulsed as he gasped for air, his face turning red, then purple. There was nothing he could do now.

Nothing at all. Simon's grip tightened, and with a sharp, forceful twist, the man's neck snapped.

Blood erupted from the man's mouth, splattering across Simon's hand and onto the floor.

For a moment, the world fell completely silent, save for the ragged breathing of Simon and the faint trickle of blood pooling around the man's still form.

His body went limp in Simon's hands, lifeless.

Simon set the body down with a sickening thud, letting it drop to the floor like discarded refuse.

He stared at the man's corpse, his expression unreadable, his mind strangely calm.

A part of him felt something stir — was it regret? No, it wasn't regret.

Not exactly. He wasn't sorry for what he had done; it was just... a feeling. A brief flicker of discomfort in the face of a life snuffed out… but he would get used to it, it was the fucking Apocalypse after all.

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts aside. The man was dead. There was no changing that now.

Simon's attention shifted to the man's head, still lying where it had fallen. With a swift motion,

Simon grabbed it by the hair and tossed it to the side, as if it were nothing more than a discarded toy.

[You just killed a Human in the World Ranking!]

[Congratulations, your World Ranking is rapidly increasing.]

The words flashed in his mind, the familiar notification flashed in front of his face.

He looked down at the man's body, no longer human, just a corpse. The transformation was inevitable.

In this world, death didn't mean the end — it just meant something else. Zombies. The walking dead.

Once a person died, their body would rise again, stripped of the life that had once been theirs.

Simon had seen it before… it was a fate worse than death, perhaps.

As he stood there, waiting for the transformation to take place, Simon's mind wandered.

He couldn't help but wonder about the world they had become a part of. The apocalypse had turned everything upside down.

People had stopped being people. The god controlled everything now, ranking them, measuring their worth in terms of power and survival.

It didn't matter who you were — just how strong you could become.

The man's body stirred. Simon's gaze snapped back to him. His once human features now twisted, his skin pale and mottled with the telltale signs of decay but there was something… his head that Simon had dismembered begun to roll and reattach itself to the Zombie again. The man's eyes flickered open, no longer human but vacant and cold.

The lifeless pupils fixed on Simon, an empty hunger behind them.

The transformation was complete. The man — now a zombie — moved jerkily, his arms reaching out in a desperate, unnatural motion, driven by the primal instinct to feed.

The guttural groan escaped his throat, a sound that sent a chill down Simon's spine. But Simon didn't flinch. He had seen it all before. The world was full of these creatures now, mindless and relentless.

For a moment, Simon stood there, watching the zombie stumble forward, its body stiff and awkward as it lunged at him.

But Simon didn't move. He had no need to. He had no interest in fighting this thing. It was already dead. It just didn't know it yet.

The station grew eerily quiet again, save for the zombie's raspy breathing and the soft shuffle of its movements. Simon took a step forward, rearing his arm back. There was no weapon in sight, he would only use his hands to kill this thing.