This is shitted up......

All the while the system was explaining, Harley's mind was still trying to wrap around the game-like interface. Despite the surreal situation, he found himself wondering about the possibilities the system might present for his survival.

"So, you're saying," Harley cut in, his voice a little shaky, "I can actually develop skills and use them to survive? And these items, they're not just decorative, they actually have uses?"

"That is correct," the system responded, unfazed by Harley's interruption. "You possess the ability to develop skills that can aid you in survival, whether that's for combat, resource gathering, or other needs. The items you find can be utilized in different ways, and their uses depend on your resourcefulness."

As the system continued to explain things to Harley, the chat people began to chatter amongst themselves. Some were discussing Harley's situation, a mixture of sympathy and mockery in their comments. Others were speculating about the system's intentions and mechanics.

Harley peered at the screen, which now displayed all sorts of data and information. His 'Status Screen' now listed his current stats like health, stamina, stress level, and a few others.

The screen also had an 'Inventory' and a 'Skills' tab, currently shown as empty.

As Harley looked through his status, he noted that the infected status also came with certain innate abilities. The first was 'Regeneration'. His ability to heal and recover from injuries at a faster rate than usual. Next was 'Enhanced Senses', where his senses, especially sight and hearing, were heightened. Lastly was 'Enhanced Physical and Mental Capabilities', which meant he had an increased physical strength, endurance, and mental resilience.

As Harley read through the details of his abilities, his expression grew even more cold and detached than before. He was now acutely aware of the changes his infected status inflicted on him - physically and mentally.

Despite focusing on his new abilities, Harley couldn't help but notice some celestial beings chatting in the chat among themselves. Their conversations, if they could call it that, seemed aloof and detached, discussing the situation Harley was in as if watching a gladiator match in the Colosseum.

Harley shifted his focus back to the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he navigated his car into the city that lay before him. The city was eerily barren, the silence only broken by the sound of his own engine.

As Harley continued driving through the city, the only sounds heard were the low, guttural growls of the zombies stalking the area. No sign of other survivors, or even any other living beings at all.

The city scenery was like something out of a horror film, abandoned buildings and overturned cars lay scattered around, creating a maze of streets and alleyways. Everywhere Harley looked, he seemed to attract the attention of the zombies, who began to follow him in a zombie-like shuffle.

Despite being stuck in a deserted city filled with zombies, Harley did have some form of companionship - the chatting beings in the chat and, surprisingly, the system itself. The conversations in the chat and the constant voice of the system in his head gave him a strange sense of company, even if it was an odd kind.

As he continued onwards, Harley spotted a group of people fending off a horde of zombies near the entrance of a building. They were doing their best to prevent the undead from breaking in, using makeshift weapons and whatever they could find to defend themselves.

Harley could see that there were many people inside the campgrounds. It appeared to be some sort of a shelter or evacuation center, likely set up for survivors to gather and try to endure this apocalyptic scenario.

When Harley stopped his car in front of the gate, all of the people fighting the zombies immediately turned their attention to the vehicle and the zombies began to amble towards the sound of the engine. In that moment, the survivors and the zombies were all focused on him.

As Harley stepped out of the car, holding a fire ax in one hand, the other survivors and the zombies all stopped and stared, taken by the stark contrast of his cold demeanor and the deathly aura that emanated from him. Despite his unique look and intimidating presence, his deathlike eye contact sent chills down the spine of the people, and even seemed to make the zombies pause for a moment.

The chat, which monitored the situation closely, began to chime in. Some of the chatters gave compliments to Harley, amused by the reaction his presence caused. Others were laughing at the startled faces of the survivors.

Harley, with a cold and determined expression, swung his fire ax with ease. He showed no mercy to the zombies as he took them down one after the other, his actions both efficient and brutal.

The survivors watched in awe and horror, seeing Harley cut down the zombies with a single swing of his ax. They seemed both impressed and frightened by his ruthless efficiency as he continued to attack the undead.

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