Footsteps. Not the shambling drag of the dead. Sharp, frantic. Human.
Kang Si-hun froze behind the van's dented door, bread crumbs still on his fingers. The east parking lot stretched empty under the dying sun—cars abandoned, windshields cracked like spiderwebs. Asphalt baked, heat rising in waves. But those steps—pounding closer, ragged breaths mixed in.
He gripped the desk leg, slick with dried blood. Paranoia prickled his skin. Another group? Scavengers like Sang-woo's pack? Or bait for something worse?
A figure burst from the shadows of the admin building. Woman—young, university age. Bck hair matted with sweat, tied back. She clutched a wooden sword—bokken, splintered at the tip. Kendo gear remnants: chest protector torn, gloves shredded. Blood streaked her arm, a gash deep enough to show muscle. She limped, one leg buckling with each step. Exhaustion carved her face—eyes wide, cheeks hollow.
Behind her, the horde. Twenty, maybe more. Zombies spilling from the alley, groans rising like a storm. Variants mixed in: one with bloated limbs, another crawling on all fours, faster than the rest.
She gnced back, sword raised. Swung at the nearest—wood cracked against rotting skull, but it barely slowed. She stumbled forward, toward the lot. Toward him.
Si-hun's mind raced. Not a threat. Prey. But opportunity. The system hummed in his head: [Lifespan Pool: 30 Days.] Farm them. All of them.
He bit another fingernail—sharp twinge. Held it up. [Initiate Clone? Cost: 5 Days. Y/N.]
The drain hit like before: breath shortened, muscles sagged momentarily. Vision grayed at the edges, a whisper of frailty. [Pool: 25 Days.]
Particles swirled. The clone formed—silent, obedient. Identical stare.
Circle wide. Lure the stragglers.
The clone nodded, slipping into shadows. Si-hun ducked low, watching from cover.
The woman—Yoo-jin, he caught from her muttered curse, a name tag on her torn uniform—reached the lot's center. She spun, bokken whistling through air. Si-hun assessed her coldly, eyes narrowing. Not frantic hacks; precise. Wrist twisted just so—snap at the end for power. Weight shifted from back foot to front, hips rotating in a fluid arc. The bokken sliced wind with a low whoosh, connecting clean. Skull dented, zombie dropped. No wasted motion. Footwork solid, even on injured leg—pivot, sidestep, strike. Kendo club ace, he'd heard whispers on campus. She wasn't surviving on luck. This was skill honed in dojos, now bloodied in apocalypse. A weapon. Useful, maybe. If she sted.
Her swings slowed, arms trembling. Blood dripped from her wound, pattering on concrete. Metallic scent mixed with rot.
She was skilled. But fatigue won. A swipe grazed her side; she hissed, cloth ripping.
The clone emerged at the horde's fnk. It waved arms, shouted nonsense. "Hey! Over here!"
Half turned—ten peeled off, shambling toward the decoy. The rest pressed Yoo-jin.
Perfect split. Si-hun crept behind the diverted group. Heart steady. Cold math: Each kill, one day. Ten here—boost to 35.
First target: Slow one, leg mangled. He swung from shadows—desk leg to temple. Thud. [+1 Day.]
Body slumped. No alert. Next: Two clustered, feeding frenzy forgotten. He jabbed one's neck—snap. [+1.] The other spun; he bashed its knee, then head. [+1.]
Blood sprayed, warm on his cheek. Copper taste on lips. Groans muffled by distance.
The clone dodged, leading them in circles. A zombie lunged—cws raked its arm. Si-hun felt the echo: Sting through the link, fabric tearing. But no real pain. Expendable.
Yoo-jin fought on. Bokken blurred—split a skull. But her breaths came in gasps, sword dipping. A crawler grabbed her ankle; she stomped, bone cracking under heel. "Get... off!"
Si-hun tallied: Five down. [Pool: 30 Days.] Wait—no, climbing. Kills adding up.
He struck again—overhead swing on a bloated variant. Pus burst, foul stench like sewage. [+1.]
Methodical. No heroics. Just harvest.
The clone tripped—intentional? A zombie piled on. Through the link: Weight crushing, teeth snapping inches from throat. Si-hun directed: Roll. Expose the back.
It did. Si-hun fnked, crushed the attacker's head. [+1.]
Memories flickered mid-swing: Clone's view—Yoo-jin's face, determined but fading. She wasn't bait. Yet.
Eight down. [Pool: 33 Days.]
Yoo-jin faltered. Bokken slipped from sweaty grip, cttering. She snatched it up, but too slow. A zombie charged—tackled her side. They rolled, her scream piercing.
Si-hun paused. Help? No. Farm first.
The remaining diverted zombies converged on the clone. It fought—fists, kicks. One bit its shoulder—shared agony fred, hot tear in muscle. Si-hun winced, but pushed: Hold them.
Then it fell. Three zombies swarmed. Through the link, horror unfolded: First bite—fangs sinking into thigh, muscle ripping with a wet tear. Pain exploded, white-hot. The clone thrashed, but another cmped on the arm—bone crunching under jaws, splintering like dry wood. Si-hun's real body jolted, phantom cracks echoing in his limbs. Blood gushed, hot and sticky, pooling under the clone. Third zombie tore at the gut—cws hooking intestines, pulling with savage yanks. Agony yered: Burning rips, crunching snaps, warm spill of innards. The clone's vision blurred—red haze, groans deafening. Si-hun gritted teeth, sweat beading. Not free. Every use, self-torture repeated. Death's echo, intimate and raw.
He smmed deactivate. [Deactivation. Experience Absorbed.]
Flood intensified: Bites seared anew, bones ground in his mind. Head split with migraine, vision spotting bck. Nausea surged, bile rising. He retched dryly, knees hitting asphalt. Limbs trembled with echoed weakness. Price of power—torture by proxy, scars on the soul.
But gains: [Transferred Kills: +3. Pool: 36 Days.]
He shook it off, breath ragged. Yoo-jin's horde thinned—her kills adding to the chaos. Opportunity.
Si-hun advanced on her attackers from behind. Silent. First: Crawler. Stomp to head. [+1.]
She noticed—eyes locking on him mid-swing. "Who...?"
No time. Next: Lurker. Desk leg to spine. Crack. [+1.]
Yoo-jin rose, bokken joining. Synced strikes—her precise, his brutal.
But she weakened. A zombie grazed her thigh—fresh blood. She dropped to one knee, sword propping her up.
Three left on her. Si-hun felled two quick. [+2.] Pool climbing: 40 Days.
The st lunged at her throat. She blocked—wood splintered. It overpowered, jaws inches away. Her arms buckled.
Si-hun watched. One kill away. But risk? Her eyes pleaded—silent.
He swung. Final crunch. [+1. Pool: 41 Days.]
No—wait. The horde's remnants trickled in. He turned, farming stragglers. Methodical swings. [+1.] [+1.]
Rot clung to his clothes, heavy and damp. Sweat stung eyes. Each kill: Vitality surged back, faint warmth countering the earlier drain.
50 Days. 60. 70. He panted, arms leaden. But the system teased: [Progress: 70/100 Days.]
Yoo-jin colpsed, bokken cttering. Breath shallow. Wounds wept blood, pooling under her.
More zombies—scattered from earlier. Si-hun lured, struck. Pool rose: 80, 85, 89.
A final straggler shambled in—lone, groaning. He bashed it. [+1. Pool: 90 Days.]
Exhaled. Ninety. Ten short of Level 2: Duplication. Food from scraps—endless supply. Salvation.
Yoo-jin stirred weakly. But that lone zombie—another? No, the st from her tail. It shambled toward her, unnoticed in her daze. Cws out, growl low.
One more kill. 91 Days. Closer.
But she was spent. Limp, eyes fluttering shut. The zombie loomed, shadow over her face.
Si-hun's grip tightened. Save her? Or let it happen? Internal war raged. Let it bite—wait for turn, kill the fresh zombie. Guaranteed day, no risk. She's weak anyway—liability. Like Jae-min, could betray. World eats the soft. Farm her corpse too? Two days easy.
But... that kendo form. Weapon. Ally could mean shared kills, faster farm. Duplication soon—feed two mouths. Risk trust? Or stay lone wolf? Paranoia screamed: Everyone stabs. But 10 days... so close. Dive in, kill now—hit 91. If horde returns? Dissolve in acid.
She twitched, hand inching toward bokken. Too far. Zombie's jaws parted.
Decide. Now.
