Before stepping inside, Aiden's gaze drifted upward, catching sight of several solar panels glinting faintly on the rooftops around him. A small, grim smile tugged at his lips — a rare victory in this forsaken place. Those panels could be the edge he needed to finally ditch the noisy generator back at his truck and embrace a quieter, cleaner power source.
But the moment was fleeting. He turned his attention back to the ground floor and carefully slipped through the front door, his footsteps silent against the cracked marble tiles. The air inside was thick with the coppery scent of blood, heavy and clinging to the walls like a dark stain of tragedy. Ahead, a large room opened up—a banquet hall frozen in time. Folding chairs lay overturned, shattered glass littered the floor, and the remnants of food lay rotting on a long table, now a macabre buffet for whatever horrors had invaded here.
Aiden's eyes moved up to the banner still hanging crookedly on the far wall. Its faded letters spelled out "Congratulations—Emily & Mark" with a floral design curling around the edges.
"A wedding," Aiden muttered under his breath. "Well… sucks for them."
The thought hung bitterly in the air. The joyful celebration that was supposed to mark a new beginning had ended in blood and death, like so many other moments in this shattered world.
He sheathed his katana and gripped his bow tightly, scanning the room for movement. Though quiet, he knew the dead often lurked in the shadows of broken dreams. With one last glance at the cruel reminder of life before the fall, Aiden stepped deeper into the house, ready to strip whatever useful scraps it still held—and survive another day.
Aiden's eyes scanned the gloomy interior of the grand house as he moved cautiously, each step measured and silent. The once-celebratory atmosphere, now soaked in blood and shadow, made his skin crawl with a grim sense of history—echoes of a joyous day turned into a nightmare. His mind flickered briefly over the banner, the wedding vows now twisted by death, then sharpened his focus on the task at hand.
Spotting a sturdy wooden railing overlooking a sunken living room below, Aiden climbed carefully to the elevated platform, taking the high ground where he could survey the room like a hawk. His breath was steady, his senses tuned to the eerie silence that suffocated the space. He gripped a nearby porcelain vase—ornate, fragile, and utterly useless to a walker—but perfect for creating a distraction.
With a practiced motion, he swung the vase against the tiled floor below. It shattered with a loud crash, shards scattering and echoing sharply through the empty mansion. The sound rang out like a gunshot in the stillness.
Almost immediately, a faint rustling began from the shadows below. From a side hallway emerged a grotesque procession — a group of walkers, each dressed in what had once been the finest wedding attire. The groomsmen's tuxedos, now stained and torn, hung loosely over their decaying frames. The bridesmaids shuffled forward in tattered, discolored dresses, their faces twisted with the vacant hunger of the undead. Even the maids, recognizable by their battered uniforms, moved with jerky, unnatural motions, drawn like moths to the noise.
And at the center of this macabre parade were the bride and groom. The bride, her once-white gown now dirtied and stained with dried blood, stood with a vacant gaze, hair matted and tangled, her bouquet of wilted flowers drooping limply in one rotting hand. Beside her, the groom—dressed in a tattered tuxedo, face half-eaten—dragged one foot behind the other, the remnants of what must have been a proud, happy man now nothing but a shambling shell.
Aiden's heart pounded—not from fear, but from the cold calculation that settled over him. He had seen plenty of walkers before, but this... this was something else—a twisted reflection of what life had been here. Yet, the threat was the same.
He nocked an arrow and drew his bowstring silently, aiming carefully at the nearest walker—one of the groomsmen whose jaw hung slack, exposing broken, yellowed teeth. The arrow flew true, sinking deep into the back of the walker's head, who dropped instantly to the floor with a dull thud. The others didn't even notice; their hollow minds were locked on the sound that had called them out.
Aiden moved quickly, unleashing a flurry of arrows—each shot a precise strike to the brain. One by one, the walkers fell, collapsing like puppets with their strings cut. The bride stumbled forward, arms reaching out blindly, her hollow moan echoing eerily through the room. He released another arrow, silencing her forever.
As the last bridesmaid crumpled to the floor, Aiden's gaze flicked over the room once more. Broken furniture, shattered glass, remnants of a life ripped apart—but also potential loot. Supplies, maybe some medicine, or weapons left behind in a frantic attempt to survive.
Still on edge, Aiden dropped silently down from the platform and moved through the wreckage, looting quickly but carefully. Every step reminded him of the lives lost here—the dreams shattered. But there was no time for mourning. Out here, survival was all that mattered.
He paused for a moment beside the remains of the groom, a pit of something like sorrow tightening in his chest. The world had changed, leaving behind memories turned to horror. But Aiden had a mission: to keep moving forward, to keep fighting, and to find some shred of hope amid the ruins.
With his bow slung across his back and his pack heavier with whatever he could carry, Aiden slipped out the back door, eyes already scanning the horizon for the next threat, the next challenge, the next step on his long road ahead.
Aiden paused as he approached the grand double doors the horde had come from, realizing this entrance had likely been their den—or worse, the main breach point into the mansion. He crouched low, studying the broken hinges, the scuff marks on the polished floors, and the dried streaks of blood across the threshold. No doubt about it: this path had funneled the walkers in.
He wasn't about to leave it open behind him.
From his system inventory, Aiden pulled out a few heavy items: an old oak cabinet, a steel desk frame, and a pair of thick wooden boards scavenged from earlier shelters. He dragged the cabinet toward the doorway first, using it as the anchor, its weight and bulk making it difficult to move even for a grown man, let alone a wandering walker. He then stacked the desk sideways behind it, reinforcing the barricade with boards jammed diagonally to brace it against the door frame.
But Aiden wasn't looking to seal it entirely.
Strategically, he left narrow gaps between the pieces—not enough for a walker to squeeze through, but just enough that he could peek through or use to funnel enemies into a kill zone if needed. The gaps would also let sound and air pass through, a subtle trap: if any noise drew walkers from behind, he'd hear them shuffle, moan, or scrape against the wood before they could surprise him.
He reinforced the barricade with nails and lengths of metal rebar from his stash, twisting them into place with a compact wrench. He even tied up a makeshift noise trap—an old tin can rigged with thin wire so that if any walker pushed on the barricade, it would rattle loud enough to alert him from almost any room in the house.
Aiden stood back and examined his work. The door was now both a defense and an early warning system. Smart. Quiet. Ruthless.
He gave a short nod, then turned back to the deeper rooms of the house. There were still supplies to loot, secrets to uncover, and perhaps a few hidden survivors clinging to life.
But one thing was certain: if anything tried to come through that door again…
…it wouldn't go unnoticed.
Aiden crouched near the barricade once more, eyeing the narrow gaps he'd intentionally left between the stacked furniture and reinforced boards. The idea came to him in a flash of tactical clarity—he could use the openings not just for observation or defense, but as kill slits.
With the right angle, the walkers on the other side would be drawn in, reaching, snarling, but unable to claw their way through. It would be a perfect shooting gallery.
He unslung his bow and reached into the system inventory, retrieving a fresh handful of hand-crafted arrows. The weight of them felt good, reliable. He knocked the first one and waited, crouched in the shadows just off to the side of the door.
The scent of old blood still hung in the air. It didn't take long.
A low groan echoed from beyond the barricade, followed by the slow drag of shuffling feet. Aiden narrowed his eyes as the first walker stumbled into view through one of the cracks—a woman in a blood-stained maid uniform, her face caved in on one side, a piece of veil still tangled in her hair.
Thwip!
The arrow zipped through the gap and buried deep in the walker's eye socket. She collapsed without a sound.
[Ding!][+2 EXP][Stealth Bonus: +1 EXP]
Another groan. Then another set of footsteps. Aiden stepped to the side, lining up with the next gap.
Thwip!
[Ding!][+2 EXP]
Thwip!
[Ding!][+2 EXP]
They kept coming. A groomsman, still in a shredded tux. A flower girl missing half her jaw. A bloated man in a champagne-stained vest. Aiden remained cold and efficient, letting each one step into the bottleneck and then striking through the slit before retreating slightly and switching to another gap. With each kill, he grew more precise—his breathing steady, his hands familiar with the bow's pull.
One by one, the undead partygoers fell.
Thwip!
[Ding!][+2 EXP][Stealth Bonus: +1 EXP]
He adjusted his footing to another kill slit just as a cluster of three stumbled forward. He waited until the lead one blocked the others and—
Thwip!
[Ding!][+2 EXP]
The body collapsed, momentarily blocking the narrow passage. The others clawed and pushed uselessly. Aiden smirked and knocked another arrow.
Thwip!
[Ding!][+2 EXP]
Eventually, the moans began to fade. The noise trap he had rigged hadn't even gone off. The barricade had held, and the walkers had fallen one after another in silence, their corpses forming a grotesque carpet of bodies beyond the door.
Aiden leaned back on his heels, wiping sweat from his brow, counting the kills in his system log.
Total EXP Gained: 28Stealth Bonuses: +6
He grinned.
"Not bad," he muttered, retrieving the arrows one by one through the gaps using a hooked rod.
The mansion was a slaughterhouse now, but one under his control.
Aiden didn't waste time after clearing the area. With the walkers now mostly thinned out thanks to his trap and bow skills, he moved swiftly and efficiently through the once-luxurious estate, using broken plates, glass, or whatever he could find to lure stray walkers into quiet kill zones. He'd learned well: sound was a tool, not a hazard, if used right.
Each silent takedown was another clean shot, another step toward complete control of the property.
[Ding!][+2 EXP][Stealth Bonus: +1 EXP]
He looted every corpse, ripping watches, jewelry, utility belts, or tools that could be useful. He stripped the cleanest clothes and added them to his growing stash, using plastic wrap from the kitchen drawers to seal items in bundles before placing them into duffel bags pulled from the system inventory.
Once satisfied the interior was secure, Aiden finally turned his attention upward.
The roof. That's where the real prize was.
He hauled the ladder he'd found in a side shed—dusty, a bit dented, but solid—and braced it against the side of the building. Slinging his bow and a sidearm just in case, Aiden climbed steadily up the creaking rungs until he crested the top.
There they were.
Solar panels. Four of them. Large, sleek, still angled toward the morning sun. Wires fed into a small junction box mounted behind a chimney, while down the slope, he could see where cables likely fed into the home's power bank—possibly into an old generator room or battery system in the basement.
He unslung his pack and pulled out a slightly weathered manual—a guide he'd found in a survivalist shop weeks ago. It covered sustainable energy basics, including how to disconnect and safely handle solar arrays.
Aiden skimmed the steps:
Shut down any inverters or charging systems.
Unplug the battery bank or generator connection.
Carefully disconnect the panel wiring, one at a time.
Check for residual current.
Use non-conductive gloves if possible.
"Got it," he muttered.
He followed the steps closely, using insulated pliers and gloves pulled from his inventory. Each wire was carefully detached and capped. The panels themselves were unbolted with a ratchet set and gently stacked on padded material he'd brought specifically for this moment. He wrapped each one in cloth sheets from the estate and packed the cables, inverters, and salvaged batteries.
By the time he was done, sweat soaked through his ballistic undershirt, and the sun was nearing noon.
[Ding!]
[Item Acquired: Solar Panel x4]
[Item Acquired: Lead-Acid Battery x2]
[Item Acquired: Solar Inverter]
[Item Acquired: High-Capacity Wiring (50ft)]
He paused for a moment on the roof, looking out over the now-cleared streets below. Atlanta's skyline loomed far in the distance, and with it, the knowledge that most of the city was lost.
But not him
Aiden was building something.
A mobile fortress. A future.
He descended the ladder slowly and hauled the goods back to his hidden truck, carefully organizing everything into secured mounts. This wasn't just scavenging anymore.
Den stood atop his truck, a rare sense of real progress flickering through him as he eyed the solar gear he'd already installed. The curved panels now mounted to the truck's reinforced roof caught the morning sun. They were linked via thick, insulated cables to the salvaged inverter and battery banks housed inside a sealed compartment he'd rigged in the back, right where the old water tank used to sit. This wasn't just scavenging anymore; this was the future of his survival—sustainable, silent energy.
But as he leaned against the roof rail, sipping from a dented steel canteen, his sharp eyes scanned the surrounding houses. He squinted past a few cracked windows, the wind ruffling worn curtains and sending leaves scattering across driveways long forgotten. And then he saw them—glints of metallic glass catching sunlight. Not one. Not two. At least five other rooftops nearby had solar panels.
Aiden's lips curled into a small grin.
"Jackpot," he muttered, sliding the canteen back into his belt.
Operation: Power Grab
He grabbed his climbing gear and backpack from the truck, checked his weapons—bow, M9, and combat knife—then hoisted the ladder over one shoulder like a makeshift spear. His first stop was the two-story home across the street, its white paint peeling in the Georgia sun. The windows were intact, and the door hadn't been forced open. Good. That meant fewer walkers had wandered inside.
Aiden kept low, circling to the back. He found an empty flowerbed that provided cover and jammed the ladder into the earth, bracing it against a gutter. He climbed slowly, deliberately—eyes and ears scanning, senses alert.
As he reached the top, he heard a faint groan from inside the house.
"One inside. Maybe two."
He secured the ladder with a bungee cord, crept along the roof, and began disconnecting the panels. He moved with practiced precision now: unplug, unscrew, wrap. Over and over. But halfway through the second panel, he accidentally kicked a metal bracket that clattered across the shingles and dropped to the ground with a loud clang.
Within moments, he heard it.
Grrraaghhkkk…
A walker burst from the front door, then another.
Aiden froze, listening.
Three. Four. Maybe more. Drawn by the noise, they emerged from side alleys and open garages, shambling with arms outstretched and jaws agape.
He muttered a curse, tucked the loose wires under his arm, and crawled back to the ladder. As he descended, he reached for his bow and notched an arrow.
[Ding!][+2 EXP][Bonus +1 EXP: Stealth Kill]
He let another arrow fly—thump. Right between a walker's eyes. Two more approached.
He took a breath, aimed, and released. Thump.
But then the third walker lunged forward quicker than expected.
Aiden dropped the bow, drew his combat knife, and met the creature mid-charge. He shoved it against the brick wall and drove the blade up through its chin with a crunch of cartilage.
[Ding!]
[+2 EXP][Bonus +2 EXP]
After the fight, he didn't wait. He went back up, finished detaching the solar panels, and stored them on a flat, makeshift cart he'd rigged from an old dolly and car tires.
House by House
The next few rooftops were trickier. One had panels nearly ripped off by storm damage and took twice as long to salvage. Another was so covered in vines and rot that he had to hack through vegetation with a machete just to reach the mounts.
In one particularly risky climb, a broken rooftop gave way beneath him. Aiden nearly plunged into the attic but caught himself on the edge just in time, fingers burning as he hung suspended. He scrambled back up, breathing hard.
"You're getting too comfortable, Aiden," he scolded himself.
But he kept going.
At one point, he encountered a lone walker on a roof—likely someone who'd tried the same survival tactic but didn't make it. It lunged at him as he was packing a panel into his bag, and they tumbled across the roof in a chaotic roll.
Aiden finally ended it by smashing the walker's head with a loose roof tile.
[Ding!][+2EXP: ]
Sundown Success
By late afternoon, Aiden had cleared all five rooftops. He now had a total of ten solar panels, six backup batteries, and yards of wiring—enough to build a full energy grid on his truck or even power a small stationary base.
He wheeled the salvaged panels back one load at a time, constantly scanning the roads and alleyways, listening for groans, for dragging feet—anything.
When he reached his truck again, he began the installation phase. The truck was already modified with reinforced mounts and a retractable frame. He installed the extra panels on the side arms that could be folded in while moving and extended when parked. The new battery banks were added to an insulated storage compartment beneath the truck's floorboards, layered with rubber padding and shock absorption.
Wiring was routed through PVC tubing, and the inverters were mounted behind a steel mesh grate to prevent damage in combat. By sunset, the rig was a beast. Silent. Powerful. Self-sustaining.
Aiden stood back and admired his work as the sun dipped low over the tree line, casting golden rays over the bloodstained street and his armored apocalypse truck. He leaned against the front, wiping sweat from his brow, and gave a low chuckle.
"This... this is how you win."
And with that, he cracked open a cold can of scavenged soda from the onboard mini-fridge, now powered by sunlight.
Tomorrow would be even better.