1.
"Hah..."
My reaction upon seeing the Status Window was more one of emptiness than joy. After all, I'd gone this long thinking I didn't have a power like this when I actually did.
'If I'd known about this, I would've ditched that shitty porter life right away and gone off on my own.'
Then I could've faced the zombies with proper gear and in a decent inn instead of this cheap crap. Who knows how things would've turned out, though.
Still, realizing it now was better than never. It could've stayed hidden my whole life. From that angle, my current situation wasn't half bad.
'What kind of idiot screams "Status Window" the second they arrive in another world anyway?'
And for a guy who'd gotten eaten by zombies in his previous world to think that? If anything, I should've been wondering if my head was screwed on right.
'More importantly, I have Remaining Points.'
Given that I'd leveled up, it must've been from killing that zombie just now.
'But don't level-ups usually come with a notification? Isn't that the standard?'
I stared at my stats in front of me with those thoughts in mind.
⚔ STATUS ⚔⚡ Strength: 2💨 Agility: 3✨ Mana: 7
Strength was '2', Agility '3', and Mana was a whopping '7'. Maybe I had a knack for being a mage after all.
Magic was the nobility's domain.
The spells known to commoners were limited, excluding combat and battlefield attack magic or daily life utility spells.
'If I could just wield attack magic, life would be a hell of a lot easier.'
I'd once had the chance to watch a mage in battle by pure luck, and it was insane. They wiped out dozens of goblins in an instant.
Being able to do that to goblins meant it would work on humans too, and by extension, zombies.
'Maybe I should learn it if I get the chance.'
I didn't hesitate and dumped a point into Strength.
It wasn't without reason. In a world like this, versatility was key. The more skills you had, no matter how useless they seemed, the higher your survival odds.
In that sense, balancing your stats was crucial. No one knew when or where you'd lack a particular one.
'So the real problem is what to do about the ones out in the hall.'
I didn't know how many were there, but the situation was far from ideal.
'They react to sound, so maybe toss something out the window?'
It had risks, but it beat fighting them head-on.
The best would be some idiot yelling and running through the streets to draw them off, but with things like this...
"Kwaaaaaagh!"
'There is one?'
I jumped up and peered out the window. A burly guy was sprinting down the street, dragging every zombie in sight.
I wondered what moron would pull that stunt, but now I recognized him.
'The Bakery Son?'
The guy who always wandered around with bread in both hands was empty-handed today for some reason.
Crunch— rip—
He didn't last long before the zombies caught him. Watching a man get torn apart alive wasn't a pretty sight.
"Dad! Daaaad!!!"
His lungs were impressive; his screams carried all the way here crystal clear. A few zombies from the inn bolted outside toward the noise.
"Just like goblins."
They milled about on the street in a swarm, reminding me of a goblin nest I'd raided once.
'So now what?'
Sitting back on the bed, a wave of helplessness washed over me.
The world had ended. No debate there. What mattered was how far along the collapse had progressed.
In my previous world, society crumbled in under a week. How long would it take here?
'Maybe some cities or villages are holding out.'
Unlike weaponless modern Korea, this world was one where every home had at least a sword for self-defense—like Americans stashing shotguns under their beds.
They could handle zombies efficiently.
'Of course, that's in an ideal scenario.'
Could people who knew nothing about zombies really respond effectively? I doubted it.
Even in a modern world steeped in zombie subculture, responses were disastrously slow. All those Korean historical zombie dramas amounted to zilch.
Slicing your family or friends' throats after they turned wasn't easy unless you were a psychopath.
'Odds are, things aren't looking good.'
I let out an unconscious sigh.
Dozens of thoughts swirled in my head, but I shook them off.
'Focus on getting out of here first.'
We might even escape the village unscathed. It'd be tough for most, but I'd survived one apocalypse already.
'I'll survive.'
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Once my thoughts were sorted, I sprang into action.
In an apocalypse, security and food were paramount. With morning approaching after hours had passed, my remaining stamina was low.
Porters didn't get much rations or booze. Time was short.
At best a day—if I didn't clear the inn and scavenge food by tonight, I'd die. Just like before.
"Hoo."
That was why I was heading into the hall now.
Before stepping out, I looked down to check my gear.
Leather armor protected my chest, shoulders, and arms; gloves covered my hands. Shield in left, medium one-handed sword in right.
'I couldn't have even lifted this before.'
Good thing I'd boosted Strength.
It was clumsy, but this setup made me novice mercenary material. To think I'd finally get to play mercenary after the world ended.
'Life's unpredictable.'
I smirked and quietly opened the door. Through the widening gap, I spotted zombies.
Grrr—
They stood frozen, low growls emanating. I counted their glowing eyes.
'One... two.'
At least two in sight ahead. But account for ones in rooms or out of view.
I shut the door and went to the window, grabbing an item to hurl outside.
Thud!
It hit the ground with a crash.
"Keeaaagh—!"
Zombies reacted wildly beyond the wall. Opening the door again, the two were gone.
Poking my head out, the hall looked clear.
'Safe?'
I lightly tapped the wall with my sword.
Thump thump—
A low echo, but no response. No zombies near the stairs or door.
Shield forward, I approached the next door and flung it open.
Grraaawr—
A zombie stood with its back to the door, hunched and drooling.
'Chance.'
I swallowed and crept closer. As distance closed, I thrust my sword with all my might.
No real swordsmanship, barely ever held one.
Squelch!
Thrusts were doable for anyone. Flesh parted; blade tip protruded from its skull.
Splatter!
I yanked back; blood dripped as it collapsed dead.
"Hoo."
⚔ STATUS ⚔Name: HansonLevel: 3
Checking the Status Window again, my level had risen.
'Strength or Agility? That's the question.'
⚔ STATUS ⚔⚡ Strength: [4]
After a moment's thought, I added another to Strength. My sword-and-shield arms were tiring.
'Feels better.'
The weight eased noticeably. Cheat-level stuff.
'Did I have this in the previous world too and just never knew?'
There were always those types—fearless zombie slayers.
I'd outlasted them all by far, though. In that sense, wasn't I stronger?
The saying went: survivors are the strong ones, not the other way around.
'Doesn't matter—they all died anyway.'
Shaking off idle thoughts, I stepped back into the hall. Opening the next door...
"Hup."
Eye contact.
Zombie in my pupils, me in its.
"Kyaaagh—!"
It lunged first. I reacted.
Thud!
Shield bashed its head, then I swung down—not a clean slice, more a chop.
Splatter!
Aimed for the neck, hit the shoulder. No wonder swords rank low in apocalypses.
Powerful, but hard to use.
"Kraaagh—!!"
It roared fiercer and charged. I shoved with the shield and yanked my sword free.
Splatter!
Next swing hit true—neck severed, head rolled off.
Thud!
Body crumpled after.
"Hoo, hoo, hoo..."
Short fight, but exhaustion hit hard. Wanted to collapse, but no time.
Shut the door, listened.
Thump thump—
Heart pounding wildly. Shortness of breath? Tension? Both?
"...Looks clear."
No sounds from stairs—zombies in the inn must be sluggish.
'Keep it up, just like this...'
Clear the inn by tonight.