The figure of Mr. Miller, or what was left of him, stood by the window, a chilling tableau in the dim bedroom. The low moan that emanated from him was less a sound of pain and more a testament to an unending, mindless hunger. Ethan took a deep breath, the metallic tang of fear and determination in his mouth. Marcus stood behind him, wrench gripped tight, his face a mask of fresh horror.
"Stay back," Ethan whispered, the System's **Melee Proficiency** skill subtly guiding his grip on the hatchet. This wasn't about raw strength; it was about precision and efficiency. He moved with a newfound, almost unnatural grace, a quiet step into the room.
The zombie, sensing his presence more than hearing him, slowly turned. Its milky eyes, once kind and familiar, locked onto Ethan. Its mouth stretched in a silent snarl, revealing broken, blood-stained teeth. It shuffled forward, a grotesque parody of the neighbor Ethan had once known.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He raised the hatchet, his aim steady, and brought it down in a swift, practiced arc. The new skill made a difference; the blow was fluid, perfectly placed. The blade bit deep into the zombie's skull with a sickening *thud*. Mr. Miller's former body stiffened, gurgled, and then crumpled to the floor with a final, wet sigh.
**\[Low-level zombie eliminated! Experience Gained: 10 EXP.]**
**\[Current Experience: 150/200.]**
Marcus gasped, a mixture of revulsion and awe on his face. "Ethan," he breathed, "you… you didn't even hesitate."
Ethan felt no triumph, only a grim satisfaction in the efficiency of the kill. "We can't," he said, pulling the hatchet free, wiping the blade on the curtain without a second thought. "Not anymore. They're not people." He looked at Marcus, his gaze hardening. "We need to finish clearing this house, then get out. Quickly."
They moved methodically through the rest of the second floor. Every room was empty of the undead, but bore signs of hasty evacuation or struggle. A spilled laundry basket, an open closet door, a bed unmade. They collected a few more blankets, some spare batteries, and a small, dusty toolbox with a few useful items like screwdrivers and wire cutters.
As they descended the stairs, their backpacks feeling heavier with their meager haul, a new sound filtered in from outside – a distant, rhythmic thumping, growing steadily louder. It wasn't the aimless shuffle of a typical zombie. This sound had purpose, a heavy, driving beat.
**\[Warning! Elevated threat detected approaching your current location.]**
**\[Threat: Large, mutated zombie (Brute) detected. Threat Level: High. Recommendation: Immediate evasion or coordinated combat.]**
Ethan and Marcus froze in the living room, listening. The thumping was accompanied by a low, guttural roar that vibrated through the very floorboards. It was close. Too close.
"What was that?" Marcus whispered, his face paling.
Ethan rushed to one of the reinforced windows, carefully peeling back a small corner of the plywood, just enough to peek out. What he saw made his blood run cold.
Staggering down the street was a monstrosity. It was easily twice the size of a normal human, its skin stretched taut over bulging muscles and distorted bone. One of its arms was grotesquely oversized, ending in a massive, club-like hand that it used to smash through fences and even parked cars as it lumbered forward. Its head was a mangled mess, but its eyes, though clouded, burned with an unnatural, furious light. Its roars shook the air.
It was heading directly for the Miller house.
"Brute," Ethan breathed, pulling back from the window. "Big one. Too big for us."
"It's coming here?" Marcus whimpered, looking frantically around the room.
"Yeah. And it's not looking for food," Ethan said, remembering the System's "mutated threats" warning. "It's looking for *anything* to smash."
**\[Urgent Objective: Evade Brute. Failure Penalty: High chance of death for all party members.]**
The System's warning was stark. This wasn't a fight they could win, not yet. Not with a hatchet and a wrench.
"We have to go," Ethan said, grabbing Marcus. "Now. Back to my house. It's closer than yours, and I know a back route that avoids this street."
He pulled Marcus towards the kitchen, towards the back door. The thumping sound of the Brute was deafening now, directly outside the house. They could hear the sickening *CRUNCH* of its massive hand tearing through the front doorframe.
There was no time to explain. They had to move, and they had to move fast. Their first scavenging trip had turned into a desperate race for survival against a threat far greater than any they had imagined.