Regressed with Omnipotent AI on Zombie Apocalypse

Cloud crouched in the corner, his injured hand pressed tightly to his side, his face pale and tense. He glanced up, eyes cold as he watched his classmates shout and wave for help.

"Someone's calling for help," Zack noted, spotting the students waving in the distance.

"Sir, rescuing them is highly risky," Ego advised, sounding concerned that Zack might consider it.

Zack chuckled darkly. "Ego, do you really think I'd be that reckless? We barely made it out ourselves. I’m not about to risk everything for a few strangers."

He pressed down on the gas, speeding away as the students' cries grew faint in the distance, their faces twisting with disbelief and anger.

"He just left us here? What kind of person does that?" one privileged student yelled, his voice rising to a furious pitch. His outburst drew the attention of several nearby zombies, and their hungry moans grew louder.

"Shut up, you idiot!" Seifer, a fellow survivor, hissed. "Do you want to get us all killed?"

The students quickly covered their mouths, stifling any further cries. Meanwhile, in the dim corner, Cloud trembled uncontrollably, his arm hanging limp at his side. The bite mark on his arm glistened in the low light, dark and unmistakable.

"Ego, help me find a residential area with fewer zombies," Zack requested, his focus sharp.

"Certainly, sir," Ego replied without hesitation.

On the outskirts of the city, Zack eased off the accelerator, leaving the chaos of the city center behind. Equipped with weapons and a reliable vehicle, his goal was clear: find a safe place to shelter. He decided to head toward the mansion district, where the wealthy once lived. Such areas usually had fewer people, and in the aftermath of the apocalypse, fewer people meant fewer zombies.

"Sir, Riverdale in the Bronx has the lowest zombie count and is the closest to your current location," Ego informed him. "However, I would not recommend going there."

Zack frowned. "Why not?"

"Monitoring shows signs of highly dangerous mutant creatures in that area. It’s likely that animals in Van Cortlandt Park have eaten infected flesh," Ego explained.

Zack's mind raced back to Van Cortlandt Park, where a zoo once stood. Images of zombified tigers and lions flashed in his mind, and he immediately dismissed the idea.

"Any other options?" Zack asked.

"Tribeca, near the Hudson River, is another viable choice, but you’ll need to refuel on the way," Ego replied.

Zack glanced at the fuel gauge, which was dangerously close to the red zone. "Alright, let's head to Tribeca."

"The route is set, sir," Ego said as a new path appeared on the navigation screen, marking a nearby gas station for refueling.

As Zack drove, he adjusted the radio, flipping through frequencies. Occasionally, he picked up distress signals from survivors, but he didn’t bother to listen, switching to the next channel. Eventually, a repeated message caught his attention.

"Survivors, if you hear this, please head to Sing Sing Prison. We have food, weapons, and secure shelter!"

Zack raised an eyebrow. "Someone’s already set up a base? Are they official?"

"No, sir," Ego replied. "Sing Sing Prison’s network went offline a few hours ago. Historical data shows it’s currently under the control of prisoners, led by a death row inmate named Arthur."

Zack’s eyes narrowed. A shelter run by prisoners? Anyone heading there would be taking a huge risk.

"What about the government? Have they made any moves?" he asked.

"Sir, when the outbreak began, roughly 80% of the global population turned into zombies. Most governments have collapsed. There’s no official authority left," Ego responded.

Zack fell silent, his face unreadable. After a moment, he spoke calmly. "Ego, log the locations of all armories and military facilities you can find."

"Affirmative, sir. I’ve recorded even overseas military bases."

"Good," Zack nodded. He turned off the radio and drove on, his resolve hardening.

Soon, he arrived at the gas station Ego had marked. From a distance, he spotted a Ferrari parked with a smashed front end.

"Who tries to escape the apocalypse in a sports car?" Zack muttered, parking across the street. He kept the engine running, scanning the area carefully. If anything dangerous showed up, he’d be ready to drive off immediately.

After a few minutes of observation, he saw no signs of zombies. It was a remote location, so the stillness wasn’t surprising.

"Ego, can you access the security cameras in the convenience store?"

"Apologies, sir. The surveillance system here has been offline for some time," Ego replied.

"How many employees are usually at this station?"

"Two—a cashier and a gas attendant. From past reports, customer flow is low, with an average of one car per hour," Ego quickly provided the data.

"Sounds safe enough," Zack muttered. With only two employees and minimal customer traffic, there shouldn’t be more than a handful of zombies.

He grabbed his shotgun from the passenger seat and checked it, listening as Ego provided the specs.

"Remington 870 anti-riot shotgun, 12-gauge, magazine-fed, capacity of five rounds," Ego listed.

Zack removed any blank or rubber bullets and loaded lethal rounds into both magazines. After loading, he had ten shells—more than enough for a few zombies.

"Alright, this should do," Zack said, tucking the extra rounds into his backpack before stepping out cautiously.

Two dried pools of blood stained the ground near the station, with torn clothing scattered around, but there were no zombies in sight. The eerie silence sent a chill down Zack’s spine as he gripped his shotgun tightly and approached the convenience store.

Through the shattered glass door, Zack entered. The small store was in disarray—shelves overturned, snacks and drinks scattered, and ripped clothing piled in a corner. But still, no zombies.

A closed door at the back seemed to lead to the employee room.

"Anyone there?" Zack called out, raising his gun as he moved forward.

Just as he reached out to push open the door, something felt off. The door had been barricaded from the inside.

Not only that, but claw marks scored the door’s surface—deep, jagged lines as though something had desperately tried to claw its way in.

"These claw marks... they don’t look like they’re from zombies," Zack muttered under his breath.

Before he could investigate further, Ego’s voice cut through with urgency.

"Sir! A creature is approaching! The risk factor is extremely high!"

At Ego's warning, Zack spun around, aiming his shotgun at the convenience store entrance. A chill crept down his spine as his heart raced.

A massive tiger, mottled yellow and white, slowly prowled toward the doorway. The creature was enormous, nearly two meters in length, its body covered in bloodstained fur. Half of its fur had fallen away, revealing grotesque, grayish-white muscles beneath. Its grayish skin marked it as infected—zombified.

The creature’s red eyes locked onto Zack, and it emitted a low, menacing growl—more like the feral grunts of wild cats in battle than a tiger’s roar. Zack’s grip tightened on his shotgun, his pulse quickening. This wasn’t just any predator.

"Ego, we're in a city—why is there a tiger here?" Zack muttered, his eyes never leaving the creature, refusing to blink.