"Now!"
Aiden tightened his grip on the kukri, hunched low, and slid along the wall.
When the zombie was two steps away,
he exploded forward—!
Shhk!
Steel split the air.
He drove the edge in a diagonal chop,
the blade biting hard into the seam of the cervical vertebra!
"Zrkk—!"
The crisp grind of steel through bone rang out.
The zombie froze and crashed to the floor.
Rotten flesh and black blood spat against the wall behind him.
Aiden pivoted aside at once.
[Player "Aiden" has slain an infected zombie. +1 point!]
[Basic Blade Work: (1/10)]
He drew a breath, didn't stop, and turned toward another shambling in at the noise.
This time he took the initiative.
He slipped past its lunge, left hand clamping the back of its skull,
right hand ramming the blade up through the jaw.
Thock!
Clean and efficient.
Straight into the cranial cavity.
The motion flowed better already.
When he pulled free, black blood streamed along the fuller.
[Player "Aiden" has slain an infected zombie. +1 point!]
[Basic Blade Work: (2/10)]
"…"
From behind a desk corner, Yukino held her breath. The recurve never strayed from the far threats, but she didn't waste arrows.
Only when one tried to circle did she loose—pinning its knee so it stumbled and gifting Aiden an opening.
First time working together, yet the rhythm came fast.
After four more takedowns, Aiden's breath thickened. He chose a short pause.
Moments later, he repeated the lure—
and again, and again, keeping the tempo unbroken.
"Raaagh!"
On the last one's rush he could see the stringy blood in its cloudy eyes.
A flash of steel—its neck snapped under the cut, the head tumbly-rolled across the tiles.
[Player "Aiden" has slain an infected zombie. +1 point!]
[Basic Blade Work: (10/10)] → [Elite Blade Work: (0/50)]
[Strength +0.1 → 1.2]
"Nice. A bit more power."
At the instant of promotion, his arm drive changed.
His grip, his angles—tiny, precise corrections slotted in.
Even the kukri felt lighter,
the drag on the edge through air reduced.
Before long,
the last corpse on the third-floor corridor lay still.
Aiden exhaled; his webbing ached faintly.
As he turned, he noticed a classroom door ajar across the hall,
and a blue canvas schoolbag on the floor inside,
its zipper half-open and corners dusty.
He picked it up and checked inside:
a blank notebook, two ballpoints, an unopened pack of biscuits, and half a pack of wet wipes stuffed in a slip pocket.
"Perfect for stowing odds and ends."
He smiled, slung it on,
and after a quick sweep of the room found a small backpack for Yukino too.
Back in the corridor,
they moved on. Around the bend, the wall bulletin board wasn't completely wrecked.
Aiden wiped away grime and blood.
A yellowed floor map of the school came into view,
clearly labeling the building:
the lower three floors—classrooms,
fourth floor—infirmary,
fifth—labs,
top—principal's office and faculty office.
"Fourth floor first," Aiden tapped the "Infirmary." "We need meds."
"Mm." Yukino nodded,
hitched her quiver higher, and stuck close.
Three zombies clogged the fourth-floor landing—
one still in a white lab coat, chest caked with dried blood.
After their earlier run, the two moved with growing confidence,
ready to take three at once.
Thwip!
Yukino shot first.
The arrow punched the lab-coat's temple.
Splurt.
It toppled straight down.
The other two jerked at the sound and lunged.
Aiden met them, Elite Blade Work on full display.
Left-hand guard smothered the grab, right-hand edge slid the throat open in one smooth sheet of motion.
As the last closed, he slipped to the outside—
thunk!
the spine of the blade hammered its occiput; while it reeled, the edge speared down through the crown and churned the brain to paste.
Moments later,
all three were down.
They pushed into the infirmary. A thick reek of blood hit them, laced with disinfectant.
Both frowned.
Overhead,
a bright incandescent flickered.
Two big cabinets lay overturned,
meds scattered everywhere.
A hunched, withered shape lay on the cot.
One glance at the Western face told Aiden it had been dead for a while.
He put steel through the skull to keep it that way.
Meanwhile,
Yukino rummaged an intact cabinet and pulled two deep-green cloth packs from the top drawer—
a red cross stamped on the covers.
Classic medkits straight out of Left 4 Dead.
Beside them sat three mustard-yellow pain pill packs.
Per their pact,
the haul defaulted to Aiden.
"Good work."
He stuffed them in his bag without ceremony.
Yukino's eyes lingered, then dropped to the floor-litter of gauze and alcohol. "These standard bandages are still useful. If you don't need them, may I take them?"
Under the ice, handy and sensible.
He didn't stop her.
Space was finite; every pocket mattered.
Letting Yukino grab the low-bulk consumables was fine.
…
They left the infirmary and headed straight for the top.
There were far more zombies up there—about as many as the fourth and fifth floors combined—well beyond expectations.
"Stay sharp."
Face set, Aiden went back to chalk-lures,
drawing them off and culling one by one with care.
Suddenly,
from the fifth-floor stair bend, a stray that had slipped the drag heard a sound,
pivoted, and started down the hall—
behind Yukino.
She had every nerve locked on Aiden's side of the fight,
and missed the accelerating footfalls.
"Behind you!"
Aiden finished one more and, wiping sweat with his sleeve, glanced back—
to see a gaping maw launching at the girl.
"Shit!"
No time to wonder where it came from.
He ripped out the Beretta M9 and took the bead on its head.
"Trust yourself… You can do this."
At this range, a slip would punch through and hit her.
His heart knotted, palms slick—
but in that instant he slid into a strange quiet.
Breath even.
Eyes locked.
Heartbeat nearly gone.
In his world, only the target existed.
"…?"
Seeing Aiden suddenly sighting a pistol at her,
Yukino's hairs shot up.
Her heart clenched; she tried to whirl, but her body lagged.
At the edge of her vision, a gray blur surged,
fetid fingers reaching for her eyes.
The recurve was still shouldered; too late to swing.
Her pupils pinholed, throat dry—no sound would come.
The shadow swallowed her view—
Bang!
The shot blew the corridor like a drum, the walls lightly shivering.
The bullet drilled the zombie's temple dead-center.
Red-white brain mixed with black gore slapped across Yukino like sludge.
She flinched hard, eyes clamping shut as nausea punched up her throat.
But the choke of death on her neck hadn't fully faded; she froze, arms limp.
The body dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
Clack.
A scroll, wrapped in light-brown oiled paper, slid from its rotten pocket,
rolled half a turn,
and came to rest at the girl's feet.
(End of Chapter)
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