Ryu slid across the crimson floor, making a skit as he neared the three male zombies. And grabbing the metal rod lying on the way. Without a second thought he gripped it tight.
SWING!
As the first zombie approached him with its bloody jaw open, but Ryu twisted his body and smashed the rod straight into its temple. The impact from the rod made a cracked sound like a gunshot, and the creature's skull caved in as it fell.
The second came right after, faster than he expected. Ryu bared ducked it this time. Its nail barely going to grazed his cheeks but Ryu in time dodged the attack in time.
"Huff...huff...huff"
"If that attack had made him bleed, I would be done for."
Ryu took a deep breath and thanked God. Based on what he understands from the movies, if a zombie bit or came in contact with his blood, he would turn into a walking corpse.
In the next second he spun and jamming the rod upwards into its jaw and forcing it back. The zombie growled before he kicked it hard in the chest, sending it crashing into the wall.
The third zombie grabbed his shoulder, his stench nearly choked him. Without even looking back Ryu roared and drove the metal rod backward, straight into its eye socket. Vlood sprayed onto his sleeves. He ripped the rod free and the zombie fell backwards.
"Haff....haff...haff"
Grooowl!
Grwww!
Growwll!
Ryu panted heavily. His arms trembled not from fear but from the surge of adrenaline burning through his veins. He stared at the fallen corpses, the rod dripping red in his hand. But before he could think, the zombies growl echoed from behind, which made him come out of his stupor, and he dashed to the nearest exit.
All of this—blood, chaos, and death—had unfolded in mere seconds.
______
"I can't continue like this... I have to find a way," Ryu muttered, his chest heaving. Around him lay dozens of mangled corpses—proof of his desperate struggle.
You might wonder how a mere student managed to fend off the dead. The truth was simple. Ryu had trained at a local martial academy during his high school years. The constant bullying, the humiliation he endured, had driven him to learn self-defence, funded by the little money he'd saved from his monthly allowance.
He knew it wouldn't change the world or erase his pain. But at least, he thought, it would let him fight back.
"Hmm, I should go to the auditorium… maybe there'll be survivors," Ryu whispered under his breath as he made his way while hiding himself and not making any noise.
From what he'd observed so far, these things weren't all the same, some were slow with the pace of a turtle, while some ran normally. They have poor eyesight, but they are sensitive to sound.
"But before that, I need a proper weapon," Ryu muttered under his breath, glancing at the metal rod in his hand. It was bent and dull—good enough to survive, but not to fight for long.
"Ah… there were big knives in the mess hall," he whispered, remembering. Earlier that day, before everything went to hell, he had seen one of the cooks chopping meat with a large kitchen knife. It was sharp—long enough to cut clean through bone.
Who would've thought that same place might now save his life?
"The mess is close… just across this hall," he thought, tightening his grip on the rod.
He took a deep breath and began moving slowly through the dim corridor.
With silennt step, he made his way. The lights flickered weakly above, throwing shadows that danced on the walls. Ryu's eyes scanned every corner, his body tense, ready to strike or run at any second.
"The mess should be right after this turn," he whispered, heart pounding faster with each step.
The moment Ryu turned the corner, his body froze.
Just a few meters ahead, four zombies staggered inside the mess hall. Two men and two women—all dressed in the white cook uniforms he had seen earlier that day. Their clothes were stained with dark patches of blood, and their skin had turned pale gray.
Ryu's throat went dry. He knew those faces. They were the same people who had served him lunch just hours ago. The same people who smiled while serving him the food… now their eyes were lifeless, their mouths twitching as if hungry for flesh.
They moved aimlessly around the room. They didn't seem affected by the chaos outside.
Ryu swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down.
Keeping his steps light, he crouched low and slowly made his way along the wall, avoiding broken plates and utensils scattered across the floor. The stench of blood and rot filled the air, making it hard to breathe.
Finally, he reached the kitchen door. With one last glance at the wandering zombies, Ryu slipped inside, careful not to make a sound as the heavy door creaked slightly behind him.
"Where is it…?" Ryu muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning every corner of the kitchen. He moved cautiously, careful not to make a sound. Pots, pans, and scattered ingredients littered the floor, but finally, under a worn wooden table, something caught his eye.
It was enormous. About fifteen centimetres wide and a full meter long. The blade gleamed sharply under the dim light, almost reflecting the horror around it. Its edge looked impossibly sharp, as if it could slice through anything effortlessly.
Ryu's brow furrowed as he picked it up. "What the hell… what kind of knife is this?" he whispered, gripping the handle tightly. The weight was perfect in his hand, heavy enough to feel powerful, yet balanced enough to wield easily.
Heart pounding, he turned toward the door, planning to slip out quietly and avoid the wandering zombies. But then he froze.
Caught in the doorway, Ryu felt the sudden rush of panic. The knife felt heavier in his hand as adrenaline surged through him. He knew one wrong move, and it could all be over. The zombie's grin seemed to say it all: "Got you."
For a moment, everything was still—just Ryu, the knife, and the creature, the faint dripping of blood echoing in the quiet kitchen.