Even with the notification alerting him of his success in killing it, Aron didn't stop.
Adrenaline and fear pumped through him as he continued stabbing, again and again, until the zombie's head was nothing more than minced meat.
Only then did he come back to his senses. He shoved the twitching body off him, its limbs still jerking from time to time.
Aron pressed his lips tight, holding himself back from throwing up, and shut his eyes against the gory sight on the balcony.
> It is advised that all citizens stay indoors. A sanitation will soon be conducted by the government to stop the virus from spreading. In the meantime, make sure to protect yourselves. Do not get scratched, bitten, or come in contact with anyone infected by the virus.
The alart kept blaring on repeat around the city
Aron looked at his hand. The skin around the bite had already started to change color. He could feel the virus moving slowly through his veins.
If nothing was done, he would soon become the same abomination he had just killed.
But he already had a way. A solution had presented itself, one that didn't require amputating his hand.
Losing an arm would spell doom in the apocalypse. With one hand, no one would last long.
****
[Host Info]
Host: Aron
Lvl: 0
Exp for next level: 50/100
Rank: Awakened
Special Ability: Talent Bank
Passive: Immunity (100 exp to claim Ability)
Talent Inspection: Check
Talent Switch: On/Off
****
Bang !
Bang!
Bang!
Through the peephole, Aron counted five zombies outside his front door. They kept hitting the wood, drawn by the noise of his earlier battle.
He glanced at his hand again. The virus had already spread halfway up his arm. His skin was turning green.
It wouldn't be long before it consumed his body.
Gritting his teeth, he picked up the bloody knife, the same one he had used on the first zombie.
Dragging the rug from the center of the apartment, he cut it in two. He made a small slit at the edge, then placed one half by the front door.
He checked through the peephole again. The zombies were still there.
Taking a deep breath, he gripped the knife tightly. His foot slid into the slit in the rug.
He inhaled again to calm his racing heart.
(For survival.)
Aron flung the door open.
The zombies reacted instantly, rushing inside. The first two stumbled into the apartment. Aron shoved the door shut and, in one fluid motion, turned the key.
The two zombies, mindless and reckless, charged forward. Aron tugged the rug with his foot. Both lost their balance, both crashing face-first into the floor.
Before its head hit the ground, Aron jumped high and drove his knife down, stabbing into the back of its skull. The blade met a little resistance, then slid in deep.
[Zombie Lv.1 killed, 50 exp!]
Before he could move, the second zombie lunged. Blood dripped down its face, but pain meant nothing to it.
Aron rolled onto his back and kicked hard. The zombie flew across the room, crashing into the center table.
Aron didn't waste the opening. He stabbed forward, plunging the knife through its eye. The blade pierced the brain with ease.
[Zombie Lv.0 killed, 20 exp!]
It all happened in seconds.
Aron's vision wavered. His body trembled. The virus was spreading faster now, fueled by the battle excitement.
He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on the knife. If this plan didn't work, he would rather die fighting than turn into a monster.
(Claim Ability)
Aron roared in his mind.
****
[Host Info]
Host: Aron
Lvl: 0
Exp for next level: 20/100
Rank: Awakened
Special Ability: Talent Bank
Passive: Immunity – You are unaffected by all viruses and mortal diseases. Negative status effects from illness cannot apply to you.
Talent Inspection: Check
Talent Switch: On/Off
****
The moment he claimed the ability, a cool sensation washed through his body.
Relief spread instantly.
Green pus spilled from the bite wound, oozing down his arm.
Aron collapsed to the floor, his body soaked in sweat.
"Hahaha…" His laugh came out shaky. "You bastards… you're so f***ed. You… guys better not turn into zombies…"
Unbidden, his thoughts drifted to Rihanna, his ex-wife, and Damian, his rival.
In the apocalypse, wealth and status meant nothing. Strength was law.
Even if the government found a cure, it wouldn't matter. The virus was spreading too fast. By the time they had a solution, half of civilization would already be gone.
He switched the TV on. The same broadcast played again and again. Every channel was the same. Aron turned it off with a frown.
His eyes shifted to the zombie corpses bleeding on the floor.
He dragged them onto the balcony, where the first zombie's ruined head still lay.
Back when he was wealthy, self-defense had been a luxury he could afford. He had trained with the best, and now it had saved him.
The bite had only happened because of shock. Who wouldn't be shaken waking up to see their neighbor chewing on his wife's severed head?
He shoved the corpses over the balcony.
The thuds below drew more zombies, ten, maybe twelve. They gathered, sniffed, then lost interest when they realized the bodies were one of their own. Slowly, they dispersed.
Aron looked beyond the balcony. His chest tightened.
He now finally noticed how bad the situation was. Zombies swarmed everywhere. Buildings were ablaze, cars had crashed into walls, and chaos reigned across the street. It was like an apocalypse movie, only this was real.
He also noticed a pattern. The denser the crowd, the worse the outbreak. In the distance, a plaza was packed with the infected. Just looking at it made his scalp tingle.
Compared to that, his building was quiet.
The place was old, looking ready to collapse at any moment. Out of thirty rooms, only nine were rented because of how unsafe the building was.
That emptiness had made their building relatively safer.
In the apocalypse, luck was as important as strength.
The scene outside deepened the urgency in his chest.
Aron returned inside, cleaning the bloodstains and tossing the rug.
He stripped and showered, scrubbing away the stench of gore.
After washing himself clean, he double-checked the locks, barricaded the door, and set simple alarms that would alert him if anything broke in.
Finally, he lay on the bed. His body begged for sleep, but his mind refused to let him close his eyes.
--
Cough, cough…
Even though it's still a little early to ask, this author shamelessly requests, please give me your power stones! Pretty please?