She had originally assumed these zombies, with no humans left to feed on, would weaken and naturally rot away. But instead, they had begun to evolve.
Even if what emerged were little more than trash mobs, at least it proved they weren't entirely useless.
Collect them!
Virus samples. And when the purge begins, make sure to preserve all research data on these viruses!
Though, of course, she would only save them in her Inventory. Any external data would have to be erased.
Otherwise, people would just end up killing themselves with it.
Zeroy swung her blade, cutting down zombies leaping at her, even as she mulled over the virus.
In moments, the forest grew quiet again.
The zombies had been almost completely slaughtered.
Just as Zeroy hadn't yet snapped out of her thoughts, a gunshot suddenly rang out—
...
In the biker gang's survivor base, everyone was arguing about the golden-haired fairy.
Should they believe those three, assume she was real, and all go up together to capture her?
Or brand them liars, punish them for destroying a drone and spinning tales?
No one could decide. All eyes were on the leader.
But the leader, too, couldn't tell if the three spoke truth or lies.
Then, suddenly, a thunderous commotion erupted from the forest, drawing everyone's attention.
The zombies were in a frenzy. The entire base forgot about the fairy and seized their weapons, going on high alert.
Soon, however, they realized neither the zombies nor the noise were headed toward them.
Before long, the chaos in the woods began to subside.
Confronted with such an anomaly, happening right in their forest, the leader made a quick decision—dispatch scouts to investigate, with cameras streaming live footage back.
Eight men split into two squads and slipped away.
Deeper in the forest, they beheld a terrifying sight: the golden fairy, radiant and unearthly—but standing atop a mountain of corpses.
The stench of blood was so thick it nearly suffocated them.
In that mix of terror and awe, one biker's trembling finger slipped, pulling the trigger—
Bang!
A gunshot broke the silence.
...
Back in the base, the feed broadcast the scene onto a giant screen: the fairy's golden glow, and the horrific mountain of corpses.
Perhaps because of the screen's distance, the blood and gore, though unsettling, faded to the background. Most eyes were captured wholly by the fairy's transcendent beauty.
Then, the gunshot cracked across the feed.
The leader erupted with rage, cursing: "Idiots! Who told you to fire?! If you so much as scratch a hair on her head, cutting you to pieces won't be enough!"
His heart pounded in his chest.
Such a priceless treasure—any harm to her drove him mad.
Like the others, he was already ensnared by her beauty, desperate that she remain untouched, drowning in her deadly allure.
At that moment, something changed on screen.
The bullet clearly struck the golden figure—yet no blood flew.
Instead, a flash of steel split the shot in two midair.
Zeroy slowly turned, golden hair swaying with the motion.
She gazed at the bikers, tilting her head. That exquisite face first showed innocent puzzlement, then shifted into a smile that stole their breath.
"Got so busy chopping zombies, I forgot to chop you, didn't I?"
Before the words had even faded, the image spun wildly, the helmet cam tumbling to the ground.
The rest was chaos: shrieks rising one after another, wet, tearing sounds of flesh being ripped apart.
The base fell silent.
Pale and trembling, one biker finally voiced what they all felt:
"Th-that's no fairy… it's a demon! A monster!"
Just then, the feed shook as a pale hand picked up the fallen camera.
The lens refocused—and the bikers suddenly found themselves staring directly into the golden fairy's face. At point-blank range, perfection beyond human, skin luminous as jade.
But when their eyes met those emerald irises, their souls were ripped from them by an unseen force, plunging them into a twisted, blood-red hell.
This was no simple heap of corpses. It was a living nightmare.
They felt their very consciousness torn apart as visions filled them—
In scarlet fog, countless twitching remnants writhed, sewn together by some blasphemous will.
The ground itself was made of shattered corpses, writhing like worms, every twisted face contorted in terror.
From rotting torsos sprouted black tendrils, twining around screaming heads.
The voices merged into one, clawing into their skulls, rending their eardrums, dragging forth primal fear.
Worse still, some of those faces matched their own. Empty sockets bleeding black, reaching for them, whispering their names, beckoning them into the abyss.
They could feel it—those were truly themselves.
Every bone, every strip of skin, already part of that hell.
The bikers watching collapsed into madness.
"Aaahhh!! My legs! Where are my legs?!" One pounded his perfectly intact legs.
"Help… they're inside me… crawling inside me!" Another clawed bloody marks into his unmarred stomach.
Some shrieked like dying beasts.
One stared with blown pupils, scratching his own face to ribbons, gouging his eyes free to escape the vision.
"Don't look at me! Don't look at me!"
Another stumbled, covering his face as blood seeped through his fingers, screaming incoherently.
Fear smothered the air; chaos reigned. Tables overturned, comms shattered underfoot.
And through the despair, the fairy's voice came from the feed—soft, yet carrying a suffocating chill:
"Don't worry. I'll come find you soon."
...
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