"Tony Zola, start moving the zombies, and make sure not to kill them." Signs of confusion appeared on Tony's face as he heard the strange command from the other side. Zola turned to the caravan behind him, and understanding dawned on him.
Tony took command of the slow-moving zombies at the back. He grabbed his bow and arrows and started shooting, repeating the motions over and over in a near-automatic rhythm.
The terrifying part was that each arrow struck the zombies' joints precisely, rendering them unable to move, with an incredibly small margin of error.
On the other side, Zola seemed like a completely different person after beginning his basic spear training. His stance, personality, and fighting style were entirely unlike the crying boy he had been when rescued.
When Zola saw the zombies running toward him, he didn't panic. He tightened his grip on the spear until the veins in his arm stood out and charged to meet the zombies. Using his long weapon, he slashed horizontally, cutting the zombies' legs from the knees.
Meanwhile, Michael was assisting them from time to time by hurling fireballs at zombies near Zola.
The survivors were simultaneously amazed and terrified by this terrifyingly magical scene.
After fifteen minutes, all that could be heard were the screams of fallen zombies in a horrifying scene: twenty-three zombies sprawled on the ground, their legs cut or burned, crawling and writhing in a sea of black blood.
"Good, this sword will do the job," Michael nodded and conjured a spear from thin air into his hand in a flashy display. The scene looked like it had come straight out of a sci-fi movie to everyone who saw it.
Seeing how his flashy movements captured everyone's attention, Michael turned with the widest smile he could muster and pointed at the disabled zombies.
"Now, as you all know, killing zombies makes you stronger and grants skills like those you've just seen."
"And by witnessing this, I wanted to help you kill zombies and gain power easily. All you have to do is take this spear here and stab it into the head of the fallen zombie over there." At that moment, Michael noticed the expressions of the survivors changing, as tension and anxiety filled the air.
Michael finally realized that the main reason most humans didn't fight zombies was the psychological barrier to killing and the fear of death from the beginning, not their lack of combat strength.
"For the first round, you can only kill one zombie, but I really recommend killing more because someday you'll need that power to protect yourself, and don't think you'll get another easy chance like this to gain strength."
Michael tried to change his approach to manage the situation, attempting to persuade them with a carrot-and-stick method.
"I'll do it." A man in his thirties stepped forward to Michael to take the spear. He was wearing a gray suit, had short black hair, light stubble, and dark skin.
"Don't be nervous, it's easy. Tell me your name and what your job was before all this?" Michael started chatting with him to ease his tension; his hands were trembling after grasping the spear.
"Chris Lackman, graduate of the architecture department, and I used to work as a college lecturer." Chris took a deep breath and replied. Michael patted him on the shoulder, encouraging him to move forward.
"Haahhhh!" Chris advanced, holding the spear with both hands, his body trembling. When he reached the zombie, he screamed suddenly to gather the last of his courage and closed his eyes.
Chris threw the spear, plunging it into the fallen zombie's head, and immediately began vomiting as he opened his eyes to the crushed skull.
"Good job, Chris. One more, and you'll level up. This time, try to get a little closer." Zola encouraged him from behind to kill the second zombie.
Chris retrieved the spear from the zombie's skull with disgust and repeated the action.
Another scream, but this time he didn't throw the spear; he followed Zola's advice, leaning back slightly before piercing the zombie's head, causing brain matter to splatter on his pants and shoes.
"Well done. Now all you need to do is add the status points and learn this skill." Michael walked over to Chris and gave him the skill book that had dropped from the zombie he killed.
{Skill Book: Rocky Wall Rank-1}
(The user harnesses mana to move surrounding earth and compress it into a rock wall that can block attacks. The wall's strength depends on mana density and the user's control.)
[Quality: Rare]
[Mana Cost: 20 MP]
[Cooldown: 30 minutes]
"Chris, why don't you show us your new power?" After learning the skill, Michael asked him to demonstrate to inspire the others.
Chris nodded, manipulating mana to form a dirt wall three meters long and one meter high, before stopping, showing visible signs of mana exhaustion.
"Good work, Chris. You can return and rest now," Michael praised him lightly before handing back the spear.
"Any other volunteers? It's fine, you don't have to do what Chris did; just throw the spear once, that's enough." Seeing Chris's transformation, some of the survivors' fear and hesitation changed to determination and hope.
"Damn, damn, damn, nothing is going according to plan. Seems this cursed world isn't that easy after all." All the remaining survivors who stepped forward besides Chris only gained experience, literally nothing else. Not a single skill book, ruining Michael's plan to benefit from their numbers entirely.
"Well, I think your conclusion is wrong, boss." Zola shook his shoulders, pointing out the bitter truth. He seemed in a good mood, having reached level 4 already after fighting the remaining zombies.
"No... my conclusion is right, but the method is wrong... I guess nothing comes easily." On the way back to the library, Michael thought only about why no other books had dropped, realizing that killing must happen in a real battle, like with Zola and the others; farming methods didn't work.
"Well, if that's the case, it seems fair to me. At least anyone brave enough to fight can learn a skill." Tony replied when he heard Michael's conclusion.
"But boss, then what explains Chris's skill?" Zola interrupted, pointing out an important detail Michael had forgotten or didn't want to think about.
"That's what I don't understand," Michael muttered, pondering all the way back to the library.
It was already noon, the scorching sun hanging in the sky.
^POV Unknown^
"Wake up, little devils, it's training time." A middle-aged man holding a modern electromagnetic rifle woke us at dawn. I opened my eyes to find myself in a dormitory-like place.
"Good morning." I looked around trying to figure out where I was when a voice interrupted me that I thought I'd never hear again.
"Oh... Tyler... Tyler, is that really you?" I rushed to hug my older brother, whom I hadn't seen in years. I had thought he'd passed graduation and left me behind, and I needed to hurry and catch up.
Whoosh
"Move, idiot! What do you think you're doing, have you gone mad?" I felt a burning pain in my back, and when I turned, the guard was glaring at me, holding a long whip.
"I'm sorry... I'm coming right now." I turned to say goodbye to Tyler and go, but he was gone. All that remained in the dormitory was me and the guard. I quickly donned my training clothes and rushed to the arena, setting aside all these illusions and fantasies.
"Today is the day I finally get out of this hell." I still remember the day my father handed my brother and me to this organization just to escape it.
"I'll never get used to this place." I muttered on my way to the arena, looking at the place I had spent the past two years.
It was a massive asphalt tunnel carved into a mountain, and the so-called arena was an iron ring full of all kinds of weapons where battles took place.
"Okay, you sausages, pay attention." The head coach struck his whip on the ground, producing a loud sound that grabbed everyone's attention.
"Fewer recruits again today." We were lined up in four rows, totaling twenty. I remembered that at the start of training, there were over 200.
"You made it here alive today. Be proud and thank your luck." Though I hated every word this bastard said, he was right—without luck, I wouldn't have survived this hell. How could anyone survive being thrown into a pit of snakes with no weapons? Not to mention the weekly death battles.
"Here at the Yellow Crow Organization, our graduation ceremonies are unique. Each of you will receive a different final test on your watch. You have two options: pass the test or die during it." Finally, when the idiot finished his speech, the test information was sent to my smartwatch. They weren't afraid of us reporting them to the police. Everyone here had been brainwashed to worship the organization.
My test data:
{Trainee Name: Gene Dalton}
{Age: 17}
{Rank: First among trainees}
{Test Type: Assassination}
{Test Target: Abraham Dalton, a middle-aged businessman and former member of a fraternity, suspected of working with the government as an informant.}
"They did this on purpose, those bastards!" My supposed final test was to kill my biological father. Honestly, I had little emotion toward my family; my mother died when I was three, and my father handed me over to this hell at fifteen. Nothing could stop me from seeing my only family, my brother Taylor, again.
"I can't... I can't kill him." My father lay asleep in his bed like a lamb ready for slaughter, waiting for me to lower the knife, but I couldn't pull my sword and cut his neck.
"Oh, Gene, did they send you too to kill me? First Tyler, now you? Did they really think killing me would be easy?" Suddenly, I felt pain in my face and stomach. I was kicked backward. My father had woken up while I was lost in my thoughts.
"What do you mean first Tyler??" His words made me forget all pain. I forgot why I was here, forgot who my enemy was. All I wanted to know was where my brother was.
"Oh, you don't know? Well, your brother was sent on the same mission to kill me." My father shrugged and smiled. I swear his smile was worse than the devil's.
"And where is he now? Tell me, where's Taylor?" I tried to threaten my father, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me. I knew the answer but didn't want to accept it.
"I am alive, and he failed his test. You know what that means." His voice was icy, as if the dead person wasn't his son. But what else could I expect from a former member of a crazy fraternity still holding grudges 200 years old?
"No, no, no, no, you lie, you lie!" I lost control entirely. I used everything I had learned in these two years. All I wanted at that moment was to kill the bastard standing in front of me.
I assumed the combat stance I had practiced countless times over the past two years, bent my legs slightly with the right delayed, held my twin short swords at shoulder height, and without warning ran toward my father, slashing with the right and then following with the left at his neck.
But after all, my father lived up to his reputation. He was strong... very strong. He tilted his head slightly to dodge my sword easily, then grabbed my left arm and twisted it until I dropped the sword.
I took advantage of our closeness and struck him in the sensitive area with my knee. If there was one thing I learned in these two years, it was that you must win every fight, no matter how ugly the means.
My father loosened his grip from the pain, so I quickly stabbed his stomach using my hidden dagger under my sleeves, then kicked him to the ground.
"Save your words for the ghosts in hell." My father tried to speak, probably begging for mercy, but I gave him no chance and stabbed his heart repeatedly with my dagger.
"Hah hah hah, damn, this dream again. I thought I'd moved past it. Five years have passed." A severe headache struck as soon as I woke up. The side effects of that skill were no joke.
I opened my status window once the headache eased to check my stats.
[Name: Gene Dalton]
[Level: 7 {120/300 XP}]
[Class: None]
[Mana Points: 28]
[Strength: 15]
[Fitness: 16]
[Vitality: 14]
[Agility: 18]
[Intelligence: 14]
[Skills: Crazy Slash lvl2 Beginner, Night Activity lvl2 Beginner]
{Skill: Crazy Slash Rank-1}
(Instantly increases the user's speed to appear before the target, performing two slashes faster and stronger than the user's normal strength.)
[Quality: Superior]
[Mana Cost: 25 MP]
[Cooldown: 2 hours]
[Note: Recommended to have +25 Fitness points before using to avoid side effects.]
"Are you okay? Rest, I'll feed you. Oh, by the way, my name's Lina. What's yours?" A short girl with a beautiful face, golden eyes, and long black hair tied in a bun approached with a tray of instant noodles.
My first impression was that she was a chatterbox that should be kept at a distance.
"My name is Gene, and yes, I'm fine. Thanks, but I can eat by myself." I don't even remember the last time I spoke to a girl, having spent the last five years hopping between identities, yet I found myself talking to her with strange ease.
I was about to take the plate from her when dizziness struck me, almost causing it to slip from my hands if she hadn't held it.
"Clearly, you're not okay. I'll feed you. We don't want to waste food, and you don't get to object." I nodded reluctantly, and she began feeding me the canned noodles.
"Oh, Dr. Eric, you're here too!!"