He could feel his head hurting like hell, but he couldn't pass out like last time. He quickly put away the Yellow orb and the skill scroll then turned to face his 'spectators'
"So skills use mana, what is magic for then, "He silently pondered "And the stamina attribute is for 'stamina'."
He was very tired and hurt, his stamina and health had dropped to 2. But he didn't worry as the group would do nothing to him and somehow he knew he would not be disturbed by other creatures. He fathomed that if there was a stronger creature than that anywhere near then even two of him wouldn't change their fate. Smiling he walked towards the remaining group of five.
Far from a smile, what they saw was the devil himself from hell coming to judge them, especially the security man who was sure the demented devil walking towards him would not spare him. Far from what he expected Garret just walked passed him, not even caring about his existence, continuing with the journey to the gym. Dave and Lucy quickly followed closely behind with the others closely behind. Glancing behind, Garret scoffed at the feebleness of human character. But was he any different. If Eva, his sister, was here. She would notice that he was not the Garret of before. Something had changed in him. But in this new world those who would not change would perish and Garret could not afford to die. Garret glanced back, he knew what followed them wasn't just the undead but the memory of everyone they'd lost. And if the gym wasn't somehow safe, then this was just a march towards another grave.
Up ahead, through the drifting smoke, the gymnasium stood like a dark monument. A rare sight of stability in a world falling apart. The wide concrete façade still bore the school's faded emblem above the main entrance, streaked with ash but unmistakable. The tall windows, though dusty and cracked at the corners, remained largely intact, their glass catching the flicker of nearby fires like dull mirrors. The double doors at the front were dented but remained firm, the metal warped and blackened. But Garret wasn't looking at it, his attention was somewhere else
Garret stopped dead, raising a fist for silence. The others behind him froze. Ahead, down the open stretch of cracked concrete leading to the gymnasium, the night was alive with motion. The fight was happening maybe a hundred meters away, where the parking lot met the field. From the west, a muscular man swung a massive axe that any normal human wouldn't be able to lift, his silhouette framed by firelight. Each blow carved through the horde like thunder-wet, heavy and final. He fought with raw brutality, his muscles straining, blood spraying with every strike.
Beside him, perched half behind an overturned van, a handsome young man loosed arrows with terrifying precision. Each shaft found its mark, temples, eye sockets, throats. He moved methodically, his expression calm in the chaos, his focus unbroken even as the dead closed in.
From the south, frost danced on the wind. Amidst the chaos, an ice goddess, beautiful, yet utterly untouchable. Her long, silver-white hair fell over her shoulders, glimmering faintly with cold light, untouched by the blood and ash that stained the air around her. Ice coiled around her arms like silver veins, exploding outward in shards that froze entire clusters of zombies' mid-charge. In her hand gleamed the Chixiao Sword, its crimson glow casting eerie reflections across the frost-bitten corpses.
And from the north, Garret stood. Silent. Watching.
Leah clutched Dave's arm, whispering, "We… we shouldn't be here. The noise, it'll draw more."
She was right. The battle was loud, especially from the muscular man's side. Garret's eyes narrowed. The three fighters were powerful, unstoppable even, but the swarm was endless. The undead kept pouring from the shadows, drawn by sound and blood. He could see some of the crowd with the muscular man had perished. He knew if the fighters were alone they would have already retreated but they weren't. Each group had at least 20 people
His hand tightened on his sword. The urge to rush in burned through him, but something held him back. He studied them, their timing, how they fought.
Dave's voice broke the silence. "Garret… what do we do?"
Garret didn't answer right away. His gaze was fixed on the woman in the south, her frost cutting through the moonlight. Her expression cold and unreadable, but she was getting tired. Beads of sweat clung to her temples, they rolled down her pale skin only to vanish into the chill mist that surrounded her.
"She is using a lot of mana," Garret silently thought.
Focusing on the archer, he had already missed two of his shots and his arrows were starting to thin out. The muscular man too wasn't swinging the axe with ferocity as he had been doing. Instead of despair, Garret felt something else, a surge of raw energy burning through his veins. The darkness around him seemed to stir, thickening, alive, drawn to his will. Shadows rippled beneath his feet as he moved, faster than he thought he would, faster than the eye could follow. In an instant, he was no longer where he had stood. His sudden burst of speed cut through the chaos like a blade of night. The air cracked with the force of his movement, and for a heartbeat, even the sounds of battle seemed to hush.
The other fighters froze, startled, unsure if what they'd seen was even human. The handsome archer lowered his bow for a fraction of a second, his eyes flicking toward the blur that was Garret. Looking towards south, the cold beauty, showed something rare. Her icy composure wavered, just slightly, her lips parting as her eyes widened with something that looked like surprise… or awe.
The archer's jaw tightened. He refused to be outshone. With a sharp exhale, he gritted his teeth and drew another arrow, nocking it with renewed determination. The string creaked under the tension of his pride. The muscular man didn't even register what was happening. Whatever Garret was, whoever he was, his arrival had changed the air itself.
He was already moving. He didn't care for the others expressions. A group of zombies lunged from the side, drawn by the noise, but they met only a blur. Garret cut through them in silence, no wasted motion, no hesitation. His blade flashed once, twice, and the creatures collapsed in pieces, each strike carried precision born of control, his body moving faster than his own thoughts could catch up. It wasn't rage that guided him, it was focus. Instinct. The others watched in disbelief. The man with the axe paused mid-swing, eyes narrowing. The archer's arrow hung loose on the string, forgotten for a heartbeat. Even the ice lady, usually as unreadable as winter itself, froze mid-motion, her breath visible in the chill as she followed his movements.
The shadows around Garret deepened further, feeding on his momentum, growing darker and denser until it seemed the night itself moved with him. With one final, fluid motion, he cleaved through a cluster of undead, the wave of his strike scattering the mist. When he stopped, silence followed. The few remaining zombies twitched on the ground, helpless.
Garret straightened slowly, his eyes glinting faintly in the dark. He exhaled.
Garret's chest rose and fell slowly, the echo of his heartbeat drumming in his ears. The darkness that had answered his call still lingered, curling around his hands, whispering against his skin like something alive. He could feel it, raw, intoxicating power humming beneath the surface. It was cold and familiar, like an old friend he didn't quite trust. For a fleeting second, he'd felt unstoppable. The world had blurred into streaks of motion and shadow, and everything, fear, fatigue, even reason, had disappeared. Only instinct remained. Only the kill.
Now that the silence had returned, so had the weight. The air felt heavy. The smell of blood hung thick and then came the headache. Blinding pain that almost made him shout in agony, but he couldn't show weakness, he didn't trust anyone right now. For all he knew they would try to kill him the moment he showed any weakness. His eyes flicked toward the others. The axe-wielding brute, the handsome archer, and the ice lady, all watching him with wary curiosity, maybe even fear. He could see their hesitation.
"Wait, isn't she the president of the student association in the school, Eira Valen."