Apocalypse: I'm to Be Executed Tomorrow, but the Dead Rise Worldwide Tonight

He was a special forces soldier sentenced to death.

In court, someone spat on him. He didn't wipe it away. The prosecutor recommended immediate execution. He didn't argue.

The judge asked him for his final words. He said, “Let it all burn.”

That night, the world really did end.

The prisoners turned into zombies, and the corridors became slaughterhouses. Ling Han broke his handcuffs, picked up a knife, and fought his way alone through the entire death-row block.

He saved someone. That person turned around and shot through his leg.

“You're supposed to die tomorrow anyway. Might as well get some use out of you.”

That was the reward he got.

Two useless legs, fifteen zombies, and a man sitting in a pool of blood.

He killed them all. Then he dug a substance called “source crystals” out of their bellies and swallowed every last one in the final three seconds before turning into a zombie.

His body shattered, then reassembled.

When he woke, he could hear the surface tension of a drop of water splitting thirty meters away. He could smell the stage of decay of each of the fifteen corpses. His fingers could spear through a zombie's skull as easily as poking tofu.

“I didn't recover. I turned into something else.”

From that day on, the apocalypse had a lone wanderer.

No alliances. No trust in people. No second chances.

At his side was only a mutated military dog rescued from the ruins, and four bullet holes around his ankle that would never heal.

“People are worse than corpses, and corpses are worse than dogs.”

Every faction in the apocalypse wanted to recruit him, use him, or get rid of him.

With a dog at his side, he walked his own road. Anyone who got in his way died.