Lust Harem: Emperor Of Two World

CRASH!

The villa's reinforced security door suddenly swung open. Yasin, gripping his homemade spear, arms and legs wrapped in makeshift armor, charged out alongside Jack Coleman, who carried a fire axe.

The moment the noise reached them, the eight zombies loitering aimlessly under the eaves snapped to attention. A chorus of guttural groans erupted from their rotting throats as they lurched toward Yasin and Jack.

SLAM!

Lena Whitmore swiftly shut the security door behind them, while Jack bolted straight for the SUV without a second glance.

Now, Yasin stood alone in the yard, facing eight shambling corpses closing in on him.

This was his first real battle against the undead—alone. Only by surviving this would he truly step into the brutal reality of the apocalypse, beginning his journey in this ruined world.

Killing zombies was a fundamental skill for survival.

He had to conquer his fear, push past the nausea of slaughtering something that once looked human, and adapt—fast.

And the best way to do that?

Kill.

Yasin tightened his grip on the steel pipe, his palms slick with sweat. The metal grew slippery in his hands, and he cursed himself for not wrapping it in rope for better traction.

Too inexperienced.

He steadied himself with a deep breath, locking onto the closest zombie.

It was a woman—or what had once been one. Long, raven-black hair framed a face still eerily intact, unlike the rotted, sunken features of the other undead. If not for the bite marks on her neck and the milky-white film over her eyes, Yasin might have mistaken her for a living person.

She must have turned recently. Maybe just yesterday, she'd been alive.

Even knowing she was nothing but a mindless corpse now, Yasin hesitated. Striking down something that still looked so human… it clawed at his conscience.

But the groans closing in from behind and his left snapped him back to reality.

If he didn't act now, they'd surround him. One misstep, one stumble—and he'd be dead.

Now.

Use their sluggishness against them.

Pick them off one by one.

With a silent snarl, Yasin thrust the spear forward—straight into the female zombie's left eye.

THUNK.

The blade punched through her skull with sickening ease. Blood and brain matter oozed from the wound, the stench of decay hitting Yasin like a physical blow.

His stomach lurched. His hands trembled.

It felt like murder.

[Ding! Host has eliminated a zombie. System is extracting neural energy…]

[Extraction complete. Commencing energy recharge…]

A pulse of white energy drifted from the corpse's skull, seeping into Yasin's body.

Instantly, the fear, the nausea—all of it melted away.

His body steadied. His grip firmed.

Emboldened, Yasin planted a boot on the zombie's stomach, yanking the spear free in one smooth motion. He pivoted, driving the weapon into the skull of another undead behind him.

CRACK.

Another clean kill.

[Ding! Host has eliminated a zombie. System is extracting neural energy…]

[Recharge progress: 30%...]

Two down.

The hesitation was gone now.

Instead, a dark thrill surged through him—a hunger for more.

His body moved with newfound agility, the white energy sharpening his reflexes.

Then—three zombies lunged at once from his left.

Yasin sidestepped, skewering the first through the temple. He twisted, letting the other two stumble past him, then ripped the spear free and drove it into the back of a zombie's skull.

THUD. THUD.

Three more corpses hit the dirt.

His movements grew smoother, deadlier.

The guilt?

Gone.

Only five left now.

He could do this all day.

Then—

"FUCK!"

Jack's furious roar split the air. A heavy BANG echoed as he kicked the SUV's bumper.

"Goddammit! Where are the fucking keys?!"

The car's alarm suddenly blared to life—HONK! HONK! HONK!—its hazard lights flashing like a beacon.

Yasin's blood ran cold.

"Idiot," he hissed under his breath.

"SHIT! This goddamn piece of junk! Stupid bitch—always failing me at the worst time! FUCK! YOU STUPID BITCH!"

Jack Coleman was seething, delivering another savage kick to the SUV. When he'd rushed to the back earlier, it suddenly hit him—he had no idea where the damn keys were.

The locked trunk left him helpless.

So close to retrieving their supplies, only to be thwarted by his own damn forgetfulness.

The frustration and rage that had been building inside him finally erupted. His self-control shattered, leaving nothing but raw, unchecked fury.

"Hey! Jack! What the hell are you doing?! Shut that fucking alarm off NOW!" Yasin shouted, yanking his spear free from another zombie's skull.

At this point, staying quiet didn't matter anymore.

That blaring car alarm would draw every undead within a thousand meters.

Jack, already in a blind rage, saw the SUV's lights flashing and horn wailing—and lost it completely. He raised the fire axe and brought it down on the trunk with a deafening CRASH!

BANG!

BANG!

"Jesus Christ! You idiot—what the hell is wrong with you?!"

Yasin seriously considered putting a spear through Jack's skull right then and there. The front gate was already wrecked, the fence practically useless. Zombies could swarm in any second.

Jack's tantrum wasn't just reckless—it was suicide.

If that horn kept blaring, it would summon an ocean of undead, turning this quiet neighborhood into a death trap. Once the horde surrounded the house, they'd be trapped. No food runs, no escape.

A death sentence.

Yasin had assumed Jack would be like the cool, composed, hyper-competent agent he played in King Of Spy.

But no.

The real Jack was a hotheaded, clumsy, impulsive man-child with zero foresight.

"TURN IT OFF!" Yasin roared, abandoning the last four sluggish zombies and sprinting toward the SUV.

They had to silence that alarm before the horde arrived.

"FUCK!" Jack suddenly shrieked, his face twisting in terror. He abandoned the axe—still wedged in the trunk—and bolted toward Yasin like a madman.

Yasin tried to grab him, but Jack's muscular frame slammed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. Before Yasin could steady himself, the sight ahead turned his blood to ice.

The woods in the distance were moving.

A wall of zombies, an endless tide of rotting flesh, shambling toward them.

Yasin forced down his panic, quickly estimating the distance.

At their current speed, the horde would reach the villa in about one minute.

If he ran now, like Jack, he could make it back inside in time.

But that horn wouldn't stop until the battery died.

And by then?

Thousands of undead would surround the house.

They'd be trapped.

Starving.

Dead.

The decision took less than a second.

Yasin didn't flee.

He charged for the SUV.

CRASH!

He smashed the driver's side window just as Jack scrambled back into the villa with Lena's help.

No time to think. Yasin reached through the broken glass, yanked the door open, and pulled the hood release.

THUNK.

The hood popped up.

A glance back.

Thirty seconds gone.

The horde was close. Less than a hundred meters now.

He had half a minute at most.

"1… 2… 3… 4…"

Yasin counted in his head, vaulting over the side of the SUV and wrenching the hood open. His fingers flew over the engine, searching for the alarm wires.

"18… 19… 20…"

The zombies were closing in.

50 meters…

40…

30…

Yasin kept counting, hands steady, ears tracking the horn's source.

It had to be here. Somewhere under this damn hood.

Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes, blurring his vision.

"24… 25…"

Now he could hear them.

The wet, guttural groans.

The dragging footsteps.

"Hrrrk… hrrrk…"

"Ugh… ughhh…"

They were right behind him.

But this old SUV's wiring was buried deep—no easy access.

If he hit 30, he'd have to run. No choice.

Even if it meant certain doom later.