The Walking Dead: Saving Merle First - Chapter 1: If You're Going to Send Me to Another World, Do It Properly! (Patreon)

SynopsisBad news: Wade somehow got transmigrated.

Good news: he landed in the world of a TV series he already knew, and he even got a System. Sure, it didn't have many features, but at least it was something.

Since he was already here, there was only one thing left to do.

Survive.

And if possible, make sure the people around him survive too.

Starting with Merle Dixon.

But this isn't exactly the same world Wade remembers. The Walking Dead is only part of it. Other horrors are lurking out there, and as the apocalypse drags on, survival leaves less and less room for hesitation.

Wade isn't a hero, nor does he intend to become one.

His rules are simple: find the threat, confirm it, eliminate it, and make sure it can never come back.

This is a crossover apocalypse world featuring original characters and elements beyond The Walking Dead.

….

Chapter 1: If You're Going to Send Me to Another World, Do It Properly!

(The first female lead to appear is Little Moon Beth. You can guess who comes next.)

Wade drove the hunting knife up through the walker’s jaw. The eight-inch blade pierced straight into its brain, brutally shredding its neural center.

He pulled the knife free, and the walker collapsed to the ground, never to let out another meaningless growl.

[Killed walker x1, gained 1 experience point]

[Level increased, gained 1 skill point]

Wade glanced at the digital screen only he could see and put the newly gained attribute point into Strength.

[Strength Level Increased. Current Level: 7]

Feeling a fresh surge of power flood his body, Wade slowly exhaled.

Then he saw the 200 experience points required for the next level and went numb.

One walker gave him one experience point. Two hundred experience points meant two hundred walkers...

Yeah, no...

This was his seventh day in this damn world.

At first, the mere sight of a walker had terrified him. Now he could handle them with ease, cutting them down and putting them to rest without breaking a sweat.

The real problem was that he still had no idea how long ago the apocalypse had started.

That was why, when he first arrived, forget stockpiling supplies. He hadn’t even had a usable weapon.

The one thing worth celebrating was his experience point system. Killing walkers earned him experience, allowing him to level up, gain skill points, and steadily strengthen himself.

And this was the U.S., a place where guns were everywhere, yet all he had was an eight-inch hunting knife.

I’m so damn awesome!

At the moment, aside from Strength at Level 7, his Speed, Constitution, Stamina, Perception, and Spirit were all only Level 6.

The numbers might not sound impressive, but they already put him far above the average person.

His Level 7 Strength, for example, was enough to rival some athletes who had undergone professional strength training.

But enough about that.

After taking out the last walker in the gun shop, Wade slid his hunting knife back into the sheath strapped to his leg and began looting.

Empty display cases. Shattered glass. Bare shelves.

Looking around, Wade couldn’t help lamenting once again.

Fuck! If you're going to send me to another world, at least do it properly!

He had arrived too late and was stuck living off scraps. It had been an entire week, and forget rifles, he hadn’t even seen a single handgun.

His two-cubic-meter Storage Space currently held only three and a half boxes of carbon-fiber crossbow bolts, a 55-pound recurve bow, some 9mm ammunition, plus food and fresh water.

That was it.

Complaining wouldn’t change anything, though. All he could do was hope his luck improved and he managed to dig up something useful.

He quickly started rummaging through every corner of the small shop.

A heavy-duty tactical Bowie knife. Good stuff.

No need to put that in his Storage Space. He strapped it directly to the right side of his tactical belt.

An engineer’s shovel. It could chop, saw, and dig, and in a pinch it could even cosplay as a frying pan.

Taken.

A tactical hatchet. Close enough to Little Red.

Taken. 

While searching, Wade suddenly had an idea.

He hopped over the counter and reached underneath it. The moment his fingers brushed against cold metal, his eyes lit up.

Sure enough. There really was one!

With a slight tug, he pulled a Glock 19 from beneath the counter.

Tsk. Just as I thought. What kind of gun shop owner in the land of the free wouldn’t keep a gun right here for self-defense?

After confirming that the magazine was loaded, Wade disengaged the safety and stowed the gun in his Storage Space.

The reason was simple. Pulling a gun straight from his Storage Space was faster than drawing one from his waist, which meant he would probably get the drop on whoever he was facing.

Of course, if the other guy happened to be some Wild West quick-draw cowboy who could draw and fire in 0.1 seconds, then there was nothing to argue about.

Fine. You win...

Besides, anything stored in his Storage Space was impossible to find during a search, which also made it perfect for catching someone off guard...

Wade continued searching the gun shop, but nothing particularly useful turned up after that.

He found a few gun maintenance kits and some tactical gear, including red dot sights and holographic sights.

Once he finished searching, Wade drew the Bowie knife and stood behind the shop door, peering outside.

A handful of scattered walkers wandered along the street beyond the gun shop.

Where should he go next?

A pharmacy?

Or should he keep looking for weapons?

After thinking it over, he ultimately decided to search a pharmacy for medicine.

And no, he wasn’t looking for food because he had already taken care of that problem during his first few days here.

Even without counting the food and water in his Storage Space, which was enough to keep him alive for three months, the backpack on his back carried more than seven days’ worth of rations and water.

Wade retraced his steps, slipped out through the gun shop’s back door, and entered the alley.

With a light push off the wall, he quickly hauled himself onto a nearby fire escape.

After a rapid series of clanging footsteps, Wade reached the rooftop.

He barely had time to catch his breath before three nearby walkers noticed him and began shambling over.

Wade showed no fear. Knife in hand, he stepped forward and cleanly hacked the head off the closest walker.

Then he kicked out, sending the next walker crashing backward and knocking down the one behind it as well.

Two sharp slashes later, both were finished.

Wade stayed where he was and let out a breath.

Good thing the walkers in this world were brainless and couldn’t run. Otherwise, fighting them at point-blank range would be absolute hell...

Suddenly, the roar of an engine reached his ears.

Wade turned and saw an orange-red sports car tearing openly down the street without the slightest attempt at stealth. The noise immediately drew the walkers nearby, sending them stumbling after it.

The sports car was far too fast for them, though. Before long, it sped down the road toward the suburbs and disappeared from sight.

Tsk.

Other people were already eating well and driving off in style, while he was still stuck running around on his own two legs, scavenging whatever he could find.

What a miserable life.

Wade pulled a pair of binoculars from his backpack and began scanning the streets below, searching for a pharmacy that looked like it hadn’t already been looted.

As he swept the binoculars across the area, he soon spotted a small pharmacy that appeared untouched.

Better yet, most of the walkers that had been milling around outside it had mindlessly chased after the sports car and were now mostly gone.

“There’s a chance!”

Wade immediately began scanning the rooftops for a suitable route.

As the binoculars swept past one rooftop, something caught his eye.

Someone seemed to be chained up there.

Wade lowered the binoculars in disbelief, rubbed his eyes, then looked again.

There really was someone up there, handcuffed to the roof.

But why did the guy look so familiar?

Wade adjusted the focus.

The image gradually sharpened.

Crew cut. Punk-style clothes. Middle-aged man. Handcuffed on a rooftop.

The pieces of memory slowly clicked into place...

Tsk.

That confirmed it.

He really had ended up in the world of The Walking Dead.

Because the unlucky bastard chained to that rooftop was none other than Merle.

If events followed the original storyline, Merle, convinced that no one was coming back to save him, would eventually use a saw to cut off his own hand.

Afterward, he would make his way to a residence, heat a metal plate over a fire to cauterize the wound, then flee for his life.

Later, he would spend some time with the Governor.

When conflict eventually broke out between the Governor and Rick’s group, Merle would ultimately choose Rick’s side.

After everything that followed, he would face the Governor alone and meet an unfortunate end...

But one thing had to be said.

That racist old bastard was one hell of a fighter.

Even with the agony of a freshly severed hand, he could still kill several walkers one-handed.

Now that was tough.

So just how strong would he be with both hands intact?