Last Ruler Of The Empty Throne-Chapter 6: Looking for a place I

The situation was dire.

Gasps rang out from the group that had followed Jon from the stadium, the sound sharp and collective as if the breath had been snatched from their lungs.

Up until now, the zombies had been slow, sluggish—even predictable. But this one, this grotesque, bloated thing, was different. It moved. Not with mindless shuffling, but with a disturbingly purposeful gait, its speed unnatural for its bulk. Every bounce of flesh with its movement sent chills down the spines of the onlookers.

Jenny saw it first.

Her eyes widened in horror as she pivoted mid-step, boots skidding across blood-slicked pavement. "JON, MOVE!" she screamed, her voice cutting through the tension like lightning through stormclouds.

She ran toward him without hesitation, not out of strategy—but instinct. Despite knowing Jon for barely a few hours, she'd begun to trust him. In a world that had crumbled in a single day, trust was now a rare and precious thing.

Around them, others stood frozen, caught between fear and admiration. Whether they'd fought beside him or cowered behind him, Jon had saved them all—whether by skill or chance. And now, as they watched him face death again, a bitter weight settled in their chests.

They hadn't even thanked him.

But Jon... was still.

Too still.

No panic, no flinch. Just silence.

His face bore a calm that seemed almost alien in the chaos. Not the numbness of shock, but the clarity of someone with complete control—like a stone in a flood.

What they didn't know, couldn't know, was that this wasn't just courage. It was Composure—a trait tied not to this world, but to something beyond. Something Third-Realm. But that was a story for another time.

Now, the moment had arrived.

The monster lunged.

And instead of dodging, Jon stepped forward.

He raised his spear, moonlight swirling along its edge like silver flame.

Then—

BOOM.

The spear met the zombie's claw mid-swing, detonating with a burst of raw moon energy. The force blew the creature's arm apart, shredded flesh and bone scattering in the air.

Jon didn't pause.

He twisted with the momentum, bringing his spear around in a clean horizontal arc—

SLASH.

The tip carved across the creature's swollen head, but it turned at the last second. The wound was shallow.

The second strike, however, wasn't.

THUMP.

The zombie's head landed on the ground with a soft, final flop.

Then, light burst from its collapsing form, radiant and blinding for just a second.

[YOU HAVE OBTAINED LEVEL 11 POWER ZOMBIE REMAINS][YOUR LEVEL HAS INCREASED][YOUR LEVEL HAS...]

"Phew," Jon exhaled, barely above a whisper. As if it had been just another walk.

Around him, the battlefield quieted.

Thirty more zombies still approached, slower now. The ones Jon had felled shimmered faintly, their remains glowing with the promise of white orbs.

Jenny arrived just as Jon caught his breath. "Hey, what was that?! That was insane."

Jon nodded. "Yeah... It moved differently. Almost jogged at me."

"You think?" She scowled, then smirked. "Be more careful. Maybe after this, we can catch a break."

"Hopefully."

But there was no time to rest. The remaining zombies were nearing.

This time, though, Jon and Jenny weren't alone.

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The female survivors had regrouped, their fear transformed by witnessing Jon's and Jenny's bravery. From behind, they launched their skills. Some—burning with adrenaline—charged in directly.

Together, with Jon and Jenny in front and the others pressing from the back, they fought as a unit.

Ten grueling minutes later, it was over.

The last zombie fell. The air was still.

Then came the sound of relief—long, heavy sighs, bodies collapsing onto the grass, weapons clattering to the dirt. Because now they all knew: a single scratch was a death sentence.

Jon, however, remained standing. Quietly, he approached the corpses he'd slain and began gathering the glowing orbs.

Only four out of ten had dropped.

Once done, he returned to where he'd dropped his bag, stored the orbs inside, then slumped to the ground.

He didn't speak. Just breathed.

And in that breath, the group exhaled again—one final, shared relief.

More messages appeared.

[YOU HAVE OBTAINED LEVEL 8 ZOMBIE REMAINS][YOU HAVE OBTAINED LEVEL 7 ZOMBIE REMAINS][YOUR LEVEL HAS INCREASED][YOU HAVE OBTAINED LEVEL 7 ZOMBIE REMAINS][YOUR LEVEL HAS INCREASED]

Jenny sat beside him, her silver flame sword resting across her lap. Once the two were seated, the rest cautiously approached. They'd survived, thanks to these two.

First, they gathered their own orbs.

Then silence followed.

Jon remained motionless, his head bowed, lost in thought.

Jenny looked toward Tunde, her eyes pleading.

Tunde got the message.

He stepped forward. "My name is Tunde Edun," he began, his voice hesitant. "We... we were at the stadium when this all began. Jon saved us."

He recounted their escape—the confusion, the panic, the strange system messages. "We're thinking of heading to the hostels for shelter. It's the only plan we've got."

A hush fell.

Everyone looked up.

The sky was growing darker by the second. Twilight had arrived—and with it, uncertainty.

A soft voice broke the quiet.

"My name's Cynthia," said a girl with cream-blonde hair and sharp green eyes. She looked at Jon, gaze unflinching. "We don't know what happened either. We were—"

"I... I want to go home!" someone interrupted.

A boy stepped forward, voice cracking. "You!" He pointed directly at Jon. "Do you know what's going on?!"

Cynthia frowned. "That's not fair—"

But she didn't need to defend Jon.

Because Jon finally looked up.

First at the finger pointed toward him.

Then at Cynthia.

Her green eyes hit him like a wave—momentarily stunning, inexplicably familiar.

He blinked, snapping out of it.

Then, slowly, his gaze shifted back to the boy.

One sharp look.

"Eiiikkkk!"

The boy yelped and bolted, disappearing into the trees. No one chased him. No one even knew where he'd gone.

Jon sighed. He'd heard everything. Tunde's plan made sense, but he still didn't understand why everyone was looking at him for approval.

'Did I do something worth all this attention?' he wondered.

He hated attention.

But little did he know, he'd already carved a place in their minds—a leader born not of ambition, but of action.

And as for what he'd really been doing?

Jon whispered in his mind: "Status."

A transparent window appeared before him.

[STATUS]

NAME: Jon WhyteAGE: 19LEVEL: 9CLASS: NoneTITLE: None

STATS:Strength: 20Agility: 25Stamina: 24 (7)Mana: 120Health: 20

SKILLS:• Instant Calculation (First Realm) – Level 5• Moon (First Realm) – Level 5

TRAITS:• Composure (Third Realm) – Level 5

STATUS POINTS: 24

Jon blinked. "Whoa."

He hadn't seen this earlier. The first time, the screen had just forced itself on him.

The stats were... bizarre. But he understood now why his calm felt unnatural.

He focused on Composure.

[COMPOSURE (THIRD REALM) – LEVEL 5]The more dangerous the situation, the calmer you will be.Special Activation: Block mental attacks from Third Realm or lower.

"So that's why," Jon murmured. He'd suspected. But seeing it... made it real.

Still, there wasn't time to dwell. He stood up slowly.

It was time to leave this blood-stained field behind.

And face whatever the night would bring.