Hugo woke up the m feeling a strange mix of determination and dread. The past few days had been a cycle of death and survival, trial and error, but today, he was going to try something different. Today, he would push the limits of his existen this loop and see just how far it would let him go.

  He went through his m routine as usual—some light exercises, cheg the barricades, making sure Salem was fed. The cat had bee a small fort in this madness, a silent panion that reminded him that not everything in this world was out to kill him.

  Afterward, he gathered his thoughts and made his way downstairs. The tension was still there as he approached Apartment 201, but this time, it was less about fear and more about curiosity. Would the old man aowledge him today?

  He knocked and stepped to the side, waiting a beat before speaking.

  "M. It’s me, Hugo. I told you I’d be back."

  Silence.

  He wasn’t disced. Instead, he leaned against the wall and started talking. "I’ve been w on seg the building. I blocked off one of the stairwells, reinforced my floor, and took out a few more of those things. Still a lot of them left, but I’m getting there."

  Still nothing. Hugo sighed but kept going. "I found some useful stuff in the apartments—food, supplies, even a bike. Not sure how much use it'll be in a city full of undead, but it might e in handy if I o make a quick getaway."

  He crouched doced another bottle of water and some food in front of the door. "Anyway, leaving this here. Ns, just like before."

  As expected, there was no response, but he khe old man was listening. He felt it. Maybe tomorrow, he’d get something more than silence.

  With his m iion done, Hugo turned his focus to the part of his pn—clearing out more of the undead aing the loop.

  He carefully desded to the flripping his bat tightly. The air was thick with the st of decay, and the dim lighting made every shadow seem like a threat. He moved cautiously, peering into each hallway, trying to get a sense of where the zombies were lurking.

  The first one he entered was easy—an older woman, frail in her uh, who barely put up a fight before he took her down. The one was tougher—a man built like a truck, his bloated body resistant to the blunt force of Hugo’s bat. It took several swings, dodging slow but powerful swipes, before he mao crack the skull open.

  Panting, Hugo leaned against the wall, taking stock of himself. That was two more down. He was gettier, more effit.

  But he o know more about the loop.

  The thought had been in the back of his mind for a while now. He had died in all sorts of ways—shot, torn apart, crushed from a fall. But what if he was in trol of it? What if he could choose when to reset?

  He didn’t want to test it under normal circumstances. But what if he had no choice?

  That was when he heard it—the guttural growl from deeper ihe hallway. A shape moved in the shadows, quid low to the ground. Too fast.

  A dog.

  Hugo barely had time to react before it lunged. He swung the bat instinctively, but the creature dodged with unnatural speed. It tched onto his forearm first, teeth sinking into the magazines he had taped around it. The yers of paper held, but the force still sent a shock of pain up his arm as the creature thrashed.

  He tried to shake it off, but the dog was relentless, charging forward and sinking its teeth into his fnk. Hugo roared in pain, stumbling back as the ied animal tore into him, its jagged teeth ripping through flesh this time. He barely had time to recover before the dog leaped again, its jaws g down on his shoulder.

  Hugo gritted his teeth, the pain shooting through his body like fire. He smmed his bat down on the dog's back, but it didn’t even flinch. The ied animal felt no pain, ation. It only wao kill.

  He gasped, pressing his hand to his side—he was bleeding. Not profusely, but enough that, given time, it would bee a serious problem. His arm throbbed, his vision swam slightly, and the weight of his injuries started pressing down on him.

  The dog recovered quickly, cirg him, saliva dripping from its bed jaws. Hugo forced himself to raise his bat again, even as exhaustion threateo pull him down. The ime the dog lunged, he was ready. He swung with everything he had, the bat crag against its skull. The creature colpsed on the floor, stunned but still twitg.

  Wasting no time, Hugo lifted his boot over its head and stomped down, again and again, until the thing finally stopped moving.

  He stood there, panting, staring at the lifeless body of the ied dog. His whole body was shaking. He was alive, but for how long?

  Blood tio drip from his wounds. Slowly. Steadily. He wasn’t going to die right away, but in a few hours? Without proper medical treatment? It was iable. And with those bites, he was surely ied—or at least, he didn’t want to wait and find out.

  This was it.

  He could feel himself fading, his body failing. He wouldn’t make it back to his apartment like this. He had two choices—sit here and wait to die, which could take hours, or end it himself.

  His hand trembled as he reached for his knife.

  Would the loop reset? Would he wake up again, whole and unhurt? Or would this be the end?

  There was only one way to find out.

  He took a breath, steadied himself, and made the cut.

  It didn’t take long for his sciouso fade.

  He woke up in his bed. The loop had restarted.

  His breathing was ragged as he stared at the ceiling, his body drenched in cold sweat. His hands instinctively reached for his side, for his shoulder—nothing. No wounds, no pain. Just the phantom memory of the teeth tearing into him.

  He sat up slowly, exhaling. The loop had worked. He was alive, unhurt. At least now, he knew for sure—it would still reset if he took his own life.

  There were still so many questions about how it worked, but at least this was a start.

  Hugo swung his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or horrified by the knowledge he had just gained.

  But ohing was certain.

  He had another ce.

  He went about his routine again. The same iion with the neighbor. It was getting exhausting to restart everything each time, but at least he was still alive. That made him think. What if he could take really short naps to save his progress more often?

  He returo his apartment and forced himself to lie down, trying to sleep for just a few minutes. It took lohan expected, his mind rag with the implications, but eventually, he drifted off. Fifteen mier, he woke abruptly. It worked

  Now there was only ohio test—how to die in the least painful ossible.

  Hugo made his way to the rooftop, f himself to stare over the edge where he had once fallen. The memory of the impact fshed through his mind, but he shook it off. If he jumped headfirst, it would be over instantly. Quick. Painless.

  It took lohan he expected to force himself to move. Then, with a deep breath, he sprinted forward and leaped.

  Darkness.

  He woke up in his bed. The sun was shining. His heart pounded as he g the clock. M. Not the couch where he had taken a nap—his bed.

  It didn’t work.

  Fifteen minutes wasn’t enough to create a restart point. He thought back to his previous naps. The oh Salem had worked. More than fifteen minutes, but less than two hours. That was the window.

  After two tests in the same day, Hugo decided he had learned enough. He had found out some useful information. Now it was time to restart again—training, the neighbor, clearing the zombies, watg out for the dog.

  Determined not to repeat the same mistakes, he set out once more. This time, he was faster. More effit. The old dy fell just as easily as before, and the big guy took fewer swings now that Hugo knew where to aim.

  And just as he heard the dog rushing toward him, he spun on his heels and bolted for the door.

  He reached it just in time, smming it shut behind him, hearing the dog’s body hit the wood with a dull thud. Panting, he braced himself against the door and grinned.

  "Not this time, fucker," he muttered. Then, chug, he added, "You won’t get me twice."

  The dog barked and scratched at the door, frustrated at losing its prey. Hugo took a deep breath, gathering himself. He’d won this round, but he knew he wasn’t dohere were more things in this building—more threats, more dangers.

  Straightening up, he tapped his fingers against the door and smirked. "I’ll deal with you ter."

  The m, Hugo pleted his routine before heading downstairs to speak to the old man again. Knog and stepping to the side as always, he began talking.

  "M. I figured I’d update you again. I’ve been thinking about long-term survival, but I don’t know the first thing about growing food. If I want to make use of the roof, I o figure that out."

  He hesitated before adding, "Also, the virus has mutated. I found a zombie dog downstairs."

  For the first time, a gruff voice responded from the other side of the door.

  "...No shit."

  Hugo froze for a moment, caught off guard by the old man's respo was the first time he had aowledged him beyond the sound of a gunshot. He shifted his weight, gng at the door.

  "Yeah, no shit," Hugo muttered. "I barely got away from the thing. It’s fast. Too fast."

  A pause. Then the neighbor spoke again, his voice rough like sandpaper. "You sure it was a dog?"

  Hugo frowned. "What else would it be? Had fs, sharp teeth, and a nasty bite. If it wasn’t a dog, then I don’t know what it was."

  Another silence, but this o different. Like the old man was thinking. Hugo took a breath and pressed on. "Look, I get it. You don’t trust me. But if animals are turning too, we’ve got a whole new problem on our hands. This building might not be as safe as we thought."

  A scoff. "You just figuring that out now, kid? Now you’re catg up."

  Hugo narrowed his eyes at the door. "Fine. You know more than me? Enlighten me, old man."

  No response. Of course. The guy was throwing scraps, nothing more. Hugo rubbed his temples and sighed. "At least tell me this—are you seeing anything weird outside? Anything different? I check the streets from my window, but I don’t have the best vantage point."

  Another long pause. Then, finally, a short, relut answer. "More of ‘em. A lot more."

  Hughtened. "More zombies? Where are they ing from?"

  "Hell if I know," the old man grumbled. "But they weren’t here before. Not this many. Started showing up a few days ago."

  That sent a chill down Hugo’s spine. He had noticed more movement outside, but he assumed it was just the same undead shifting around. If more were arriving, that meant something was driving them closer.

  "Any idea why?" Hugo pressed.

  The old maated. Then, with a tohat suggested he was already regretting speaking, he muttered, "Might be an encve."

  Hugo’s eyes widened. "A group? Survivors? Where?"

  "Didn’t say I khat much," the old man snapped. "Just that they might be out there. You think all these rotters are just wandering in by ce? Somethin’s drawing ‘em."

  Hugo exhaled sharply. "And you know this how?"

  Silence.

  Hugo ched his jaw. The old man knew something, but he wasn’t about to share details. Hugo had two options: push harder and risk losing the little progress he had made, or back off ahe information e naturally.

  He chose the tter. "Alright. I get it. You don’t trust me. But if there are more survivors out there, that ges everything."

  "Not necessarily for the better," the old man muttered.

  Hugo leaned against the wall, processing the information. More zombies meant more danger, but if there were actually other people out there, he had to sider his steps carefully. Did he try to find them? Would they even be friendly? The old man’s hesitation suggested that meeting other survivors wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

  "Well," Hugo said finally. "Appreciate the talk, old man. Guess I’ll check baorrow."

  A grunt of aowledgment came from ihe apartment, but nothing more. It was as close to a goodbye as Hugo was going to get.

  He turned and made his way back up the stairs. There was work to do. He o check outside, verify if there really were more zombies ing in, and figure out whether this encve was worth iigating.

  Surviving was hard enough. Now, he had to decide if finding other people was even worth the risk.