Mutants

Clark paid no attention to anything as he drove his motorcycle, roaring past with incredible speed. His velocity was so high that even the surrounding zombies, besieging the camper, couldn't react in time.

"Damn it! Why won't he stop?" The man went from hope to despair, staring blankly at the distant disappearing dot.

"What the hell! Didn't he see there were people here!?" Alvin couldn't help but curse loudly, and although Lynn felt disheartened, she quickly regained her composure, seemingly lost in thought.

Their eyes suddenly met. Alvin licked his dry lips, lost in thought. He scratched the back of his neck, for some reason feeling itchy. Lynn in front of him suddenly seemed somewhat enticing...

At the highway fork, the tires screeched, leaving behind a long black skid mark. Clark suddenly slammed on the brakes, skillfully executing a beautiful drift on his motorcycle.

After getting off the bike, Clark looked into the distance, about four hundred meters behind him at the camper. It wasn't a heroic rescue he had in mind. After surviving the apocalypse, even if the most beautiful woman died in front of him, he wouldn't even furrow his brow. He was just puzzled. When he had passed by the camper earlier, he had sensed a faint psychic fluctuation.

Apocalypse gear? Or something else? As an Awakened, his perception abilities far exceeded those of ordinary people. Especially after the start of the apocalypse game, some "game" items would automatically emit fluctuations, like dots in the dark.

"Eye of Judgment!" Clark murmured, instantly activating his Eye of Judgment to scan.

"Human: Male (infected)"

"Player Level: 0 (Non-Awakened)"

"Human: Female (normal)"

"Player Level: 1 (Non-Awakened)"

"Zombie: Ordinary"

"Camper: Driving equipment (damage 22%)"

A dense waterfall of information flowed down like a cascade. All the information in Clark's field of vision was displayed in detail. He fixed his gaze on one peculiar entry in the information center.

"Human: Female, Player Level: Level 1." His pupils dilated, and Clark's vision zoomed in like a telescopic lens, quickly capturing the scene on the car roof in the distance.

On the car roof, Alvin was hunched over, coughing incessantly, while Lynn stood alert, her right hand tightly gripping something behind her.

Clark furrowed his brow slightly. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He hadn't seen any apocalypse gear-like objects. Instead, he could tell that Alvin had already been infected and would likely transform into a zombie in about five minutes.

It appeared that Lynn's Level 1 status didn't come from equipment. Clark was puzzled. In the apocalypse game, player levels could only be increased by killing mutant zombies. Going from Level 0 to Level 1 required killing two mutants, and Level 2 required killing four. The woman on the car roof was neither an Awakened nor had she possibly killed any monsters. Yet, the information indicated Level 1, along with a slight psychic fluctuation. How was that possible? Unless...

Clark's expression turned peculiar, and his eyes burned with anticipation.

Mutants! Lynn's information resembled the mutants from the rumors of a previous life. They were individuals who possessed extraordinary abilities despite not being Awakened. Such people were extremely rare among humans, with perhaps one in ten million having the potential.

Before the apocalypse, these individuals often played the role of shamans. Unlike Awakened individuals who had powerful combat skills and supernatural powers, mutants typically had mutations related to willpower. Their willpower could naturally exceed the maximum limit of 10 points for ordinary humans, even without enhancement.

When the apocalypse arrived, mutants would be classified as Level 1 in the information system, distinct from ordinary players who were at Level 0. However, due to their lack of training, they couldn't control their psychic powers, resulting in psychic overflow.

As mutants, they lacked physical strength but possessed formidable psychic abilities. Consequently, they could provide essential psychic support to other Awakened individuals, essentially acting as "power banks." Psychic energy was crucial for extending combat endurance.

Having a mutant providing psychic support in the background during combat could make an Awakened individual equivalent to several ranks stronger. So, during the apocalypse, these individuals were highly sought after by major factions.

In the apocalypse, nothing was more important than strength. Fortunately or unfortunately, no one willingly played the role of a tool for others. Once a mutant was discovered, they were often restrained and closely monitored.

Luckily, mutants were considered valuable "assets" in the apocalypse. Unluckily, mutants would completely lose their free will.

On another note, in a sense, the reborn Clark also belonged to the category of mutants. His willpower attribute had reached 12 points even before Awakening.

Regardless, whether Lynn was a mutant or not was still just Clark's speculation. It was better to capture her first and then make any conclusions.

Without hesitation, Clark deactivated his Eye of Judgment and immediately turned back on foot. The distance between them was only three hundred meters. With his current speed, it would take just a few seconds. His plan had always involved forming his own faction, not only to better survive in the apocalypse game but also because, three months after the apocalypse, the game would give tasks to all players who formed safe zones. Completing these tasks would lead to an increase in strength. These tasks usually required a lot of manpower and resources, and individual players couldn't complete them alone.

If Lynn was confirmed to be a mutant, he would naturally bring her into his group. With the addition of a mutant, not only would his own strength be greatly enhanced, but in a way, it would be like granting an additional rank of power to all the Awakened individuals in his faction. A suspected mutant was worth his effort.

On the car roof, Alvin stared intently at the alert-looking Lynn. His mouth was wide open, emitting incomprehensible roars. His bloodshot eyes were bulging.

It had been seven minutes since Alvin was infected with the zombie virus. His weak willpower and physical constitution had pushed him to the brink of losing his sanity.

"Itchy..." Alvin instinctively repeated the short word as his hands quickly scratched his body non-stop. His fingernails tore through his skin, and entire chunks of flesh were clawed off, falling onto the car roof. It was as if he couldn't feel any pain. He scratched faster and faster, as if experiencing pleasure. One piece, two pieces—large sections of skin shed like scraps of paper, revealing raw, red flesh.

Lynn suppressed her fear, tightly gripping a utility knife in her right hand. She subconsciously stepped backward but realized there was nowhere to retreat. "Roar!" The zombies beneath her feet caught the scent of fresh blood and became increasingly frenzied.

Lynn bit her lip fiercely, her delicate face devoid of any color.