Fire crackled in the oil drum. Orange light danced on the mottled basement walls, casting twisted shadows that looked like demons watching a slaughter.
The air was thick with the sickening smell of roast meat. A smell that should have made my mouth water, but right now, only made my stomach cramp.
The man in the dirty leather jacket didn't rush.
He played with the boning knife, flipping it through his fingers like a poisonous snake. The blade was caked with old, dried blood. He tilted his head, sizing me up with bloodshot, dilated eyes. Like a butcher inspecting a side of pork hanging on a hook.
That look wasn't seeing a human. It was seeing food.
"You know what?"
He spoke suddenly. His voice was raspy, like he had gravel in his throat. Laced with a nervous excitement.
"In civilization, you are the kind of person I despise the most. Wearing cheap suits, squeezing onto the subway at rush hour, wagging your tail at your boss for a few thousand bucks. You live so carefully, yet you don't even own your own lives."
I gripped the Tang Dao. My palms were slick with sweat. I didn't speak. I just stared at his shoulders. Basic Blade Mastery taught me: movement starts in the body before the limbs. A twitch of the shoulder is the precursor to an attack.
"But here..."
The man grinned, revealing jagged yellow teeth. A string of dark red meat was stuck between them.
"You are premium ingredients. Not too much fat. Muscle tight. Full of the sour taste of fear... that is the best seasoning."
"Lunatic."
I squeezed the word through my teeth. Blood rushed to my head.
"Lunatic?"
He laughed. A maniacal, echoing sound in the empty basement.
"No! We are the sane ones! Look at the zombies outside—they only know how to eat, no brains. Look at you—clinging to your laughable morals, choosing to starve rather than take that step."
He pointed at the woman with the vacant eyes, then at the sizzling meat on the fire.
"We survived. We are full. We adapted better than you. This is evolution! This is Darwin's victory!"
"Eating people is evolution?"
Nausea rolled in my gut. Anger overpowered the fear. "You aren't human anymore. You're beasts in human skin."
"Beasts?"
The silent woman suddenly screamed. She jumped up, waving a red-hot iron skewer. Her face twisted like a banshee, snot and tears smearing her face.
"What do you know! Do you know what it feels like to boil your own belt to eat?! Do you know what it feels like to watch your friend die, knowing if we don't eat him, we die too?!"
She shrieked hysterically:
"If being a beast means living, then I'll be a beast! Give it to me! Give me your dog!!"
"Now!"
The moment the woman's scream distracted me, the man moved.
It was their tactic. The most despicable yet effective trick in the wasteland. One uses words or screams to distract prey; the other launches a fatal sneak attack.
Old me would have been distracted and had my throat slit.
But now, my System-enhanced senses caught the killing intent the moment his heel left the ground.
CLANG!
Tang Dao swept horizontally.
Not an attack. A block.
The boning knife scraped along my blade, spraying sparks. His strength was immense, fueled by desperado ruthlessness. My wrist went numb, the web of my thumb throbbing.
"Nice reaction, fresh meat."
The man sneered. He didn't retreat. He pressed in.
This was the difference between street fighting and martial arts. He didn't know sword forms, but he knew how to kill. He knew a long blade was useless in a grapple, so he dove into my guard. His left hand, hiding a dagger in his sleeve, stabbed at my ribs like a viper.
"Get off!"
I panicked. Instinctively drove a knee into his gut.
THUD!
My knee hit something hard. He had a steel plate under his clothes!
Pain stalled my movement. The dagger sliced through my shirt. Cold steel grazed my skin, leaving a stinging line of blood.
One centimeter deeper, and I would have been gutted.
The shadow of death covered me.
This wasn't fighting zombies. Zombies just lunged. No feints. No dirty tricks. No hidden armor.
This was a living human. A human trying to murder me.
"Shadow!" I shouted, hoping my overpowered pet would save me.
"Handle it yourself!"
Shadow's voice came from the side, cold and unyielding. "If you can't beat a lunatic, how long do you expect to live in this world?"
I glanced over.
Shadow was toying with the woman. She swung the iron skewer wildly, but couldn't touch a hair on him. He danced around her like a golden lightning bolt, occasionally batting the skewer away, eyes full of mockery.
He was forcing me. Forcing me to cross this line alone.
"Dammit!"
I cursed. At Shadow, at the maniac, at everything.
No retreat.
You want to eat me? I'll chop you up first!
Under extreme pressure, fear turned into violent killing intent. I stopped thinking about defense. Stopped caring about getting hurt.
Moves from Basic Blade Mastery flashed in my mind. Not the fancy forms. The simplest, most direct killing moves.
The man missed his stab and tried to close in again.
This time, I didn't back up.
I gripped the sword with both hands. I didn't slash. I rammed the heavy metal pommel into his face.
Pommel Strike.
CRUNCH!
A dull, sickening sound. The steel pommel smashed square into the bridge of his nose.
"ARGH!"
He screamed. The pain of a shattered nose blinded him with tears. His form broke. Instinctively, he covered his face and stumbled back.
Opening!
I stepped forward. The Tang Dao carved a semi-circle in the air. Using the torque of my hips, I chopped down at his neck.
Full power.
But the moment the blade was about to touch skin, my hand wavered.
It was the instinct carved into my bones by twenty years of civilized education—killing is illegal. Killing is murder. This is a living person, not a walking corpse.
That hesitation saved his life. And almost killed me.
The blade missed the neck by half an inch. It chopped into his shoulder, biting deep into the collarbone.
"AHHHH—!"
He howled like a slaughtered pig. Pain triggered his ferocity. He thrashed wildly, swinging the boning knife blindly. The blade sliced a long gash on my forearm.
Blood gushed, staining the magazine armor red.
The pain woke me up.
I looked into his eyes. Filled with venom and madness. No mercy. Only a desire to drag me to hell with him. If I were the one bleeding on the floor, he wouldn't hesitate. He would slice my throat like he sliced a pig.
If I don't kill him, I die.
There are no laws here. No police. No judges. The only judge is the blade in my hand.
"DIE!!"
I roared, shattering the last shred of hesitation.
I didn't pull the blade out. I gripped the handle with both hands, put my weight on it, and pulled horizontally.
SHRRRIP—!
The sound of metal cutting bone and tearing muscle. Teeth-aching.
The scream cut off abruptly.
A fountain of blood erupted from his carotid artery. It sprayed all over me. Into my eyes.
The world turned red.
The man's body went limp. Twitched twice. Then stopped. His eyes were wide open, staring at me. Cursing me.
I killed a man.
Not a zombie. A living person. Warmth. Heartbeat. Speech. Thought.
I stood there, heaving for breath. Heart ready to explode. The Tang Dao was dripping. The warmth of the blood traveled up the handle to my palm. It felt scalding hot. I wanted to drop it.
"Urgh..."
Stomach cramped violently. I forced it down. Can't puke. Can't show weakness in front of the enemy.
I wiped blood off my face. Turned to the other side.
The woman was frozen.
She stared at the man lying in a pool of blood, butchered. The iron skewer clattered to the floor. The madness and arrogance vanished, replaced by pure terror.
Shadow stopped playing. He sat down, watching me coldly. Waiting for my decision.
I dragged the sword, walking toward the woman step by step.
My feet felt heavy. Like walking on cotton. But I forced myself to be steady.
She collapsed on the floor, crab-walking backward until her back hit the truck tire.
"Don't... don't kill me..."
She looked at me like I was a demon. Shaking uncontrollably. "I... I was forced... he made me eat it... please... let me go..."
She pulled open her tattered down jacket, exposing her dirty body. Trying to trade dignity for life.
I looked at her. Felt nothing. Not even pity.
I looked at the half-eaten human flesh by the fire. The charred finger accusing silently.
I remembered Lin Ze's family. Clean faces. Choosing suicide over becoming monsters.
And these two. To live, they sold their souls to the devil.
"You really adapted to this world."
I stood in front of her. My voice was so raspy it didn't sound like me.
"But I don't adapt to you."
"No! NO—!"
She saw the killing intent in my eyes. Screamed in despair.
Flash of steel.
Silence.
The basement returned to dead quiet. Only the popping of the wood in the fire remained.
I walked away. Leaned against the truck tire. Finally bent over and retched violently.
I puked for a long time. Until my stomach was empty, dry heaving bile. Tears and snot mixed with the blood on my face. A total mess.
Killing zombies is for survival. Killing humans... is to defend the line of being "human."
A warm paw touched my knee.
I looked up. Shadow sat in front of me. No mockery. No rushing. Just watching.
"Remember this feeling."
Shadow's voice was unusually gentle. "Feeling sick is normal. It proves you still have humanity. If you killed a person and felt nothing, you'd be no different from those two maniacs."
He paused.
"But also remember. They attacked first. In the apocalypse, kindness needs teeth. Your blade is for protecting yourself, not for repenting."
I took a deep breath. Nodded. Wiped the bile from my mouth.
"I understand."
I stood up straight. Looked at the two bodies. The nausea remained, but I controlled it.
I changed.
From this moment on, I wasn't Skyhaven City's Bai Shi anymore. I was a survivor of Sector C Shelter. A warrior with human blood on his hands.
I regained my calm. Searched the bodies.
Found a key on the man. And a crumpled map. Hand-drawn, rough, marking the garage layout. A red circle marked a spot: [Electrical Room].
"Found it."
I pointed at the map. "Power hub is on the other side of this level."
"Let's go."
I picked up an unopened can of motor oil they used for the fire.
Splash.
I poured it over the bodies and the disgusting "food."
"Ashes to ashes."
I flicked my lighter. Threw it.
WHOOSH!
Flames roared up. Swallowing the sin. Swallowing the last traces of these people.
Black smoke rolled. Smell of burning flesh.
We turned and left, heading for the Electrical Room.
The fire behind us was a farewell ceremony. Farewell to the old me. Farewell to the morals of the civilized world.