"No," I said, stepping forward. "You have a class. That seems to provide immunity."

  Relief washed over his face, followed immediately by a grimace of pain. "It still hurts like hell, though."

  "What's your class?" Aurora asked, keeping her sword ready as she scanned the corridor for more threats.

  "One-star Resource Gatherer," he replied, wincing as he adjusted his grip on his arm. "Not exactly combat-oriented."

  "But it kept you alive," I pointed out. "And immune."

  He nodded weakly. "I saw others get bitten. Ones without classes—they turned almost instantly. I thought I was next when this thing got me, but..." He glanced down at his wound. "It's been about twenty minutes. No silver eyes yet."

  "You should find somewhere to treat that wound," Aurora said. "We're clearing a path to the fourth floor. Follow after us."

  The student nodded gratefully. "Thanks. I'll head there after I wrap this up." He gestured to his injury with a grimace.

  As we continued our methodical progress through the building, we encountered more evidence supporting our theory. Those chosen by the System—regardless of their class's power level—remained human even after being bitten. They could die from their wounds, but they wouldn't transform. It was a critical advantage in this new, hostile world.

  Aurora moved with predatory grace, her enhanced Agility evident in every step. A zombie lurched from a nearby classroom, its silver eyes fixating on us immediately. Before I could even react, her sword flashed—a streak of moonlight cutting through the air. The creature's head hit the ground before its body followed.

  Experience gained: 35

  The notification appeared in my vision, confirming that our party system was working. We were sharing experience, making each kill count for both of us.

  "Keep moving," Aurora whispered. "There will be more."

  She was right. They came in ones and twos at first—former students and faculty transformed into these silver-eyed abominations. Aurora cut them down with brutal efficiency, her sword singing through the air, each strike more confident than the last. I stayed back, watching her level indicator rise steadily with each kill, my own level rising alongside hers thanks to our shared experience.

  Then we hit a cluster of them—five packed together in the narrow hallway leading to the building's side exit.

  "Nate," Aurora said quietly, her blade lowering slightly. "Your turn."

  I stepped forward, fully materializing my quill. The world fractured around me, revealing the luminous code beneath reality. I could see the zombies' lunar signatures, the tangled equations that governed their movement, their existence.

  This time, I didn't try to rewrite the code directly. Instead, with my enhanced Intelligence and Cosmic Insight, I identified the variables controlling gravity in the corridor. I made a small adjustment—a subtle notation change that amplified the gravitational pull by a factor of ten in a cone-shaped area directly in front of us.

  The effect was immediate. The zombies crashed to the floor, bodies slamming down with bone-crushing force. They struggled against the invisible weight, limbs twitching uselessly. Aurora didn't waste the opportunity, dispatching them with five precise strikes.

  Experience gained: 175 Level up! You are now level 3. Stat points available: 5

  We continued this pattern, floor by floor, corridor by corridor. Learning to work as a team—Aurora's direct combat prowess complemented by my reality manipulation. By the time we reached the second floor, we moved with the synchronicity of partners who had fought together for years, not hours.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  You reached level 5

  As we cleared another hallway, a new notification appeared:

  Skill Unlocked: Astral Rewrite: Density Manipulation Alter the density of matter by rewriting its lunar code.

  My breath caught in my throat. A second skill. New possibilities unfolded in my mind—making objects lighter or heavier, changing their physical properties.

  "I got something new," I told Aurora as we paused to catch our breath. "Density Manipulation."

  She nodded, a similar excitement in her eyes. "Lunar Shield for me. I can project a barrier of lunar energy."

  We pushed onward, our confidence growing with each encounter. The zombies seemed to grow more numerous but not necessarily stronger—an endless wave of basic enemies for us to gain experience from.

  By the sixth hour of our methodical clearing, sweat soaked through our clothes despite the building's chill. My hands trembled slightly from the strain of so many reality edits, but the rush of power with each level kept me moving forward.

  You reached level 7

  As we approached the fourth floor, we came across another survivor—a woman from campus security, her uniform torn and bloodied, a makeshift bandage wrapped around her forearm. She leaned against the wall, a simple metal baton clutched in her hand, her breathing labored.

  "Are you okay?" Aurora asked, approaching cautiously.

  The woman's head snapped up, eyes narrowing with suspicion that quickly turned to relief when she saw we weren't silver-eyed. "You're human. Or at least, not them."

  "We're human," I confirmed. "With classes. You too, I'm guessing?" I nodded toward the faint system interface barely visible beside her.

  "One-star Security Officer," she said with a bitter laugh. "Not very creative, is it? I was already campus security."

  "But it kept you from turning," Aurora pointed out, gesturing to the woman's bandaged arm. "Bite?"

  The security officer nodded. "Four of them cornered me in the stairwell. I managed to take down two before the third got my arm. Thought I was done for, but..." She shrugged. "No transformation. Just hurts like hell."

  "We've been noticing the same pattern," I said. "Those with classes seem immune to turning, even if they're bitten."

  "Small mercy from the System," the woman muttered. "Though I've seen plenty of people with classes get torn apart. Immunity to transformation doesn't mean much when they rip you in half."

  "Have you seen others?" Aurora asked. "Survivors, I mean."

  The security officer nodded. "Fourth floor, east wing lecture hall. About a dozen of them, all with classes. They've barricaded themselves in. I was doing a sweep to look for supplies when you found me."

  "We're heading that way," I said. "Want to join us?"

  She considered for a moment, then nodded. "Strength in numbers. Especially with whatever the hell is going on outside."

  "What do you mean?" Aurora asked, suddenly alert.

  "I managed to get a look from the astronomy department's balcony," the security officer said grimly. "The city... it's changing. Buildings floating, strange lights in the sky. And these silver-eyed things aren't just in the university. They're everywhere."

  I exchanged a look with Aurora. The implications were staggering. This wasn't just a localized event—it was global. The System had changed everything.

  "Let's get to the others," Aurora said after a moment. "We'll figure out our next steps from there."

  As we continued up toward the fourth floor, I couldn't help but wonder about the pattern we'd discovered. The System had selected certain people to receive classes, granting them powers and immunity to transformation. But why? What was the purpose behind this elaborate game of selection?

  And perhaps more importantly—what did it want from those it had chosen?

  I sensed something different as we approached the lecture hall—a cluster of energy signatures that didn't match the chaotic patterns of the zombies. These were structured, coherent. Human.

  "Aurora," I pointed down the corridor. "There are people ahead. Survivors."

  Her eyes widened. "How many?"

  I closed my eyes, focusing on them. "Twelve... no, thirteen. They've barricaded themselves in the lecture hall at the end of this wing."

  As we approached, we heard the sounds of furniture being shifted, hushed voices conferring urgently. A makeshift barricade of desks and chairs blocked the double doors leading into the hall.

  "Hello?" I called out, keeping my voice low enough not to attract unwanted attention. "We're human. Not infected."

  Silence fell on the other side, then a voice—cautious, suspicious—responded: "Prove it."

  Aurora stepped forward. "My name is Aurora Reyes. I'm a student here—kendo team captain. This is Nate Moretti, astrophysics major. We've been clearing the building floor by floor."

  More whispers from behind the barricade, then: "Your eyes. Do they glow silver?"

  "No," I answered. "We received classes from the System. We're fighting back."

  A long pause followed, then the sound of furniture being moved. The barricade parted just enough to reveal a face I recognized—Professor Mills from the Computer Science department, her glasses cracked, a nasty cut across her forehead.

  "Classes?" she repeated, her eyes narrowing. "You mean the screens? The stats?"

  Aurora nodded.

  Mills studied us for a moment longer, then nodded to someone behind her. The barricade opened wider. "Everyone in here received something. Different classes, different strengths. We've been holed up, trying to figure out what's happening."