The chill of the pre-dawn air clung to Ethan as he crouched behind the shattered remains of a parked car, his eyes fixed on the skeletal outline of the abandoned town. The distant groans of the walkers were a constant, low thrum, like the pulse of the decaying world around him. His plan, brutal and direct, felt right. He had the strength, the speed, and the intelligence to make it work.
His enhanced Perception, now at 6, allowed him to pick out every detail in the gloom: the lumbering forms of the two Thugs near the old gas station, the frantic, jerky movements of the Infected darting across the main intersection, and the scattered, aimless shambling of the numerous standard walkers. And then, there was the subtle, almost imperceptible clicking sound he'd heard earlier. It was closer now, coming from the shadowy depths of the abandoned diner across the street. A cold dread, familiar from his past life's gaming experiences, settled in his gut. A Butcher. He hadn't fought one of those since the game. They were fast, relentless, and their blade-like arms were terrifying.
Hostile detected: Mixed group. 15x Walker (Class-I), 2x Thug (Class-III), 1x Infected (Class-II), 1x Butcher (Class-V – NEW THREAT). BP potential upon neutralization: Significant (Butcher: 10 BP). Warning: Butcher present. Extreme threat. Prioritize dismemberment or headshot. Evade close-quarters engagement.
Ten Battle Points for a Butcher. The System's notification, stark and impersonal, only cemented his resolve. This was a goldmine. But he had to survive it. A Butcher would be the ultimate test of his new abilities.
He began by setting up. He had found a small, rusted fire extinguisher in the pharmacy. Not a weapon, but a potential distraction. He moved silently, his Agility at 7 making him practically a phantom in the night. He placed the extinguisher near a loose stack of old tires close to the gas station, ready to be knocked over for noise.
His primary target for now: the Thugs. They were slower, more predictable. He needed to thin the herd before he tackled the faster, more lethal threats.
He started with the Thug nearest the gas station. It was busy tearing at the remains of a rusted-out pickup truck, its back to him. Ethan moved like a whisper, coming up behind the massive creature. His Strength was 9 now, formidable. He didn't need to be subtle. He needed to be devastating.
He swung his bat with all his might, aiming for the base of its skull, where the spine met the brain. It was a precise, lethal strike.
CRUNCH!
The sound was like a tree trunk snapping. The Thug's massive body convulsed, a low, guttural roar dying in its throat. It stumbled forward, tried to turn, and then crashed to the ground, a heap of dead weight. It twitched once, twice, and then went still.
Hostile neutralized: Thug (Class-III). Battle Points acquired: 5. Current BP: 12.
Five points. Easy. Too easy. He moved quickly, not lingering. The noise had drawn the attention of a few nearby walkers, but they were still too far to be an immediate threat.
He turned his attention to the second Thug. It was lumbering slowly down the main street, towards the sound of the first Thug's collapse. Ethan used the abandoned cars as cover, darting from shadow to shadow. He reached a point just ahead of its slow, predictable path.
As the second Thug drew near, Ethan burst from behind a overturned delivery van. He didn't waste time with elaborate maneuvers. He went straight for its legs. His Agility at 7 allowed him to slip inside its guard, avoiding its slow, flailing arms. He swung the bat low, aiming for the knees, then the ankles.
CRACK! CRACK!
Both legs buckled under the immense force of his blows. The Thug roared, a sound of agony and rage, and pitched forward, crashing onto the asphalt. As it struggled to push itself up with its powerful arms, Ethan brought the bat down, again and again, on its head, pulverizing the skull until it was nothing but a pulpy ruin.
Hostile neutralized: Thug (Class-III). Battle Points acquired: 5. Current BP: 17.
Ten Thugs down. Seventeen Battle Points. His body hummed with a renewed, almost overwhelming sense of power. His stamina was full, his minor wounds practically gone. He felt ready for anything.
But the real threat remained. The Butcher. And the Infected.
The Infected, its movements frantic, had been drawn by the sounds of his fight. It was now darting erratically near the diner across the street, a blur of motion. And from inside the diner, the clicking sound grew louder, more distinct. The Butcher was coming.
Ethan turned his attention to the Infected. It was fast, but predictable in its aggression. He waited, letting it shriek and lunge. As it came within range, he didn't swing. Instead, he thrust the bat forward like a spear, aiming for its chest.
THWACK!
The bat connected with unexpected force, sending the Infected stumbling back, a high-pitched shriek of surprise tearing from its throat. Before it could recover its balance, Ethan closed the distance, his Agility allowing him to move faster than it could react. He brought the bat down, a crushing blow to its head, ending its frenzied life.
Hostile neutralized: Infected (Class-II). Battle Points acquired: 3. Current BP: 20.
Twenty Battle Points. He was practically overflowing with them. But there was no time to allocate. The clicking sound from the diner was now right at the entrance, accompanied by a low, guttural growl.
The Butcher emerged.
It was a nightmare made flesh. Its skin was peeled back, revealing raw muscle and bone. Its arms, grotesquely mutated, ended in razor-sharp blades. It moved with a terrifying, unnatural grace, its head twitching, the clicking of its blades a chilling rhythm against the silent town. Its eyes, milky and dead, fixed on him.
This was the ultimate test. He knew its patterns: relentless, multi-hit attacks. Its weak points: often the exposed chest cavity, or a precise headshot if he could get one in. It was a close-quarters monster.
Ethan backed away slowly, retreating towards the center of the street, giving himself room to maneuver. He held his bat defensively, his grip tight. The Butcher stalked him, its blades scraping against the asphalt. It didn't shriek like an Infected, it was a predator, silent and deadly.
It lunged.
The speed was breathtaking. A blur of blades, impossibly fast. Ethan used his Agility, sidestepping just in time, the razor-sharp claws missing his chest by mere inches. He felt the wind of its strike, chillingly close.
He swung his bat, not for a killing blow, but to buy time, to create distance. He aimed for its blade arm.
CLANG!
The bat connected with surprising force against the Butcher's bone-blade, deflecting it, causing the creature to briefly stumble. It snarled, a rasping, wet sound, and immediately recovered, launching another flurry of attacks.
Ethan danced. He dodged, parried, and weaved, relying on his now incredible Agility. The blades flashed, a deadly ballet of death. He was taking risks, putting himself in harm's way, but he needed an opening. He remembered a trick from the games: a well-placed kick to the legs could sometimes disrupt their balance.
He waited for a momentary pause in its relentless assault. As one blade-arm swept wide, he quickly kicked out with his foot, aiming for its knee.
THWACK!
The Butcher stumbled, its balance momentarily broken. Its body lurched forward. This was his chance.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He brought his bat down, not once, but repeatedly, in a furious, precise assault. He aimed for its exposed skull, smashing it with all the power of his Strength 9. Each blow landed with sickening force, pulverizing bone and pulping brain matter. The Butcher thrashed, its blades scraping uselessly against the asphalt, then collapsed, its clicking silenced forever.
Hostile neutralized: Butcher (Class-V). Battle Points acquired: 10. Current BP: 30.
Ethan stood over the gruesome corpse, breathing heavily, but not from exhaustion. It was the adrenaline, the sheer, visceral thrill of victory against such a formidable foe. Thirty Battle Points. He had just cleared the town's most dangerous threats.
The remaining walkers, drawn by the cacophony of the fight, were slowly converging on his location. He turned to face them, his bat a bloody extension of his will. He didn't need to allocate BP now. He was more than ready. This was just cleanup.
He moved through the streets like a whirlwind, a force of pure, devastating efficiency. Each swing of his bat was a death sentence, each headshot a precise, brutal end. He cleared the remaining fifteen walkers in a matter of minutes, his movements fluid, his strikes lethal.
Hostile neutralized: 15x Walker (Class-I). Battle Points acquired: 15. Current BP: 45.
Forty-five Battle Points. He surveyed the quiet, corpse-strewn streets. The town was secure. For now. His body still ached, but the fundamental pain was gone, replaced by a lingering weariness. His health was at 7.5/10, his stamina full.
He returned to the pharmacy, the most secure building he'd found. He would spend the rest of the night here, resting, tending to his minor wounds, and allocating his massive BP haul. Then, he would systematically search the town for supplies. Food, water, medicine, anything.
He was no longer just a survivor. He was a force to be reckoned with. And Hershel's Farm was waiting.