I Killed a Person

I found an aluminum bat in the house at the end of the hallway. It was solid in a way my makeshift metal club could never match. I was on the third floor. Time to decide—head up or go down.

After a moment’s thought with the bat in my grip, I chose down. My sharpened eyesight let me read the street from the hallway just fine, but the real reason was the convenience store sitting at the mouth of the alley. It was the only one nearby, stocked like a decent supermarket. In my last timeline I’d stayed barricaded inside for three full days and never got to loot it. By the time I worked up the nerve to leave, the place had already been cleaned out. All that waited for me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was the half-eaten corpse of an employee, nothing left but the head.

If my memory was right, phones and the internet would die in two days. Electricity would last four, water one more after that. I’d filled the bathtub, sink, every bowl I owned, and stretched it for ten days. Until I secured a slave with the right skills, I’d have to survive on pure scavenging with no real infrastructure.

If it weren’t for the zombie wave, the outside wouldn’t be that bad.

The zombies in the early apocalypse were slower than humans and couldn’t climb stairs. Later, ones that could run stairs would appear. After that came the real nightmares—mutants that parkoured up walls and leapt across rooftops like it was nothing. The longer this dragged on, the more the zombies upgraded.

Having to face those bastards again…

The thought of mutants made me shake my head. Worrying about enemies that hadn’t even shown up yet was a luxury I couldn’t afford in this world.

I took the elevator straight to the first floor. Zombies lacked the intelligence to open doors or ride elevators. Between the studio apartments and the convenience store, the store came first. No point stirring up zombies on other floors if I wasn’t going to loot them right now.

The moment I stepped outside, I spotted two zombies tearing into a corpse across the street. One of them noticed me and bared its teeth.

“Grrrrr…”

With the mindset that the first strike wins, I raised the bat and charged.

Whoosh—!

CRUNCH!

The ones whose heads vanished dropped like empty sacks. As long as they didn’t swarm me, zombies no longer frightened me.

At the intersection in front of the building I scanned the area. Right led to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an eight-lane road; left connected to the mountain trail. I headed down and the target convenience store came into view. One side of the glass door hung crooked, shattered glass scattered across the floor. The apocalypse had barely started and someone had already beaten me here.

Hm?

As I drew closer, goosebumps prickled across my skin. Killing intent rolled out from inside the store—human, not zombie. My sense ability, boosted by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠two invested points, was screaming a warning.

I stepped over the broken glass and moved inside. A uniformed employee lay collapsed in front of the dark counter. Cuts covered the body. The pants and underwear had been yanked off and tossed aside. Everything below the navel and around the groin was slathered in sticky white fluid.

This wasn’t zombie work. Zombies ate people—they didn’t rape them. A looter had done this. Raped her, then strangled her.

When I focused, I picked up faint movement inside the storage room. It felt like I’d become a bat, echolocating prey and obstacles through the dark.

I raised the aluminum bat and walked slowly toward the storage door.

“Come out. I know you’re in there.”

“Fuck, if you’d taken two more steps I could’ve gutted you right away.”

A thug stepped out with a nasty grin. Both arms were covered in tattoos like some muscle-bound canvas. A butcher knife rested in one hand.

“Did you kill that woman?”

“Obviously. What else is there to do in this world? Gotta fuck every bitch I find.”

The way he twirled the knife showed he’d done it before—many times.

“Hand over the bat and I’ll let you have a turn. She’s still warm.”

He pointed at my weapon. This bastard was trying to steal the tool I’d worked to obtain.

“I don’t fuck corpses.”

“Then you die, kuhahaha.”

He adjusted his grip in a flash and thrust the knife straight at my throat. He clearly thought it was a surprise attack, but to an Awakened who’d put two points into agility, it looked like slow-motion flailing.

CLANG!

The moment I blocked the blade with the bat, his face twisted in shock. I drew the dagger from my belt and drove it into his neck.

“Gurk—!”

It sank so deep the handle kissed flesh. The thug couldn’t even scream before he collapsed.

The first time I killed someone, it was so hard.

It had been a world where you murdered for a slice of bread, where failing to kill meant you died. Even so, caving in the skull of a fellow human and stabbing a blade into their side had once felt impossible. On the nights I took a life, my hands would shake so badly I couldn’t sleep at all.

I’ve really gone numb.

I stood over the thug’s corpse and waited, but nothing appeared in the air.

Fuck. No experience either.

This piece of shit had been worth less than a zombie.

Luckily the convenience store hadn’t been looted too heavily. I grabbed a cart and boxes and loaded up on bottled water, drinks, and processed foods.

This should last until the water shuts off.

I pushed the loaded cart to the entrance of my studio building. Getting it upstairs would finish the job, but I had work to do first.

On the way here I’d only smashed seven zombie heads. The area was a quiet outskirts alley on a weekday morning—there hadn’t been many people out. Aside from the ones I’d already killed, the surroundings were empty. When I listened closely, I heard wet, gurgling sounds coming from the mountain trail behind the building. Most homes near the trail were single-family houses occupied by elderly couples. Two per house on average. That added up to decent numbers.

I tore the headless zombie corpses into chunks and scattered the pieces at the alley entrance leading to the trail. Then I retrieved disinfectant ethanol from the store and doused the meat liberally—so I could light it on fire whenever I needed.

I went back inside, dragged the thug’s corpse out, and hauled the hundred-plus kilos of muscle like it weighed nothing. I hurled it toward the cluster of zombies on the trail. The body flew in a graceful arc, slammed into several of them, and rolled like a bowling ball.

“Kyyyyyaaaa—!!”

“Kraaaang!”

“Kang! Grrrr…”

The muscle pig became a feast in seconds. While zombies fed on a fresh corpse they reacted a beat slower to outside stimuli. It was a hit-and-run tactic I’d used constantly in my previous life.

Gripping the aluminum bat tightly, I charged the zombies glued to the body.

“Grrrr…”

THWACK!

“KRAaaaaagh!”

CRUNCH!

I only targeted the ones lifting their heads and caved their skulls in. It felt like smashing moles that kept popping out of random holes.

The core of the strategy was to pull back the instant I felt I’d killed enough. I spun around and sprinted toward the convenience store. A few zombies gave chase too late—the gap was already too wide.

I lit the pile of zombie bodies I’d stacked earlier and hid in the alley beside the store. Even on fire, zombies kept moving, but the stench of burning flesh and smoke wrecked their sense of smell. Their perfect noses could no longer track prey.

The noisy snarls gradually faded. Without corpses or living targets, zombies moved on to new hunting grounds. When I peeked out, the burning zombies were shambling back toward the muscle pig’s remains. I silently thanked the bastard for providing so much meat.

I hauled the looted supplies up to the studio, sat in front of the fridge, and opened my status window.

The updated experience total of five meant I’d killed twenty-three zombies. I’d gained another point for the new level. Following the System’s earlier advice, I put one point into agility, one into sense, and the last into defense.

My body felt lighter. The refrigerator’s hum sounded louder than before. Every time I raised my stats the change felt good—like I was raising a favorite character in a game in real time.

I’d followed the System’s recommendation and reached level three. When I opened the Slave Capture skill, a different message appeared instead of the usual warning.

It wouldn’t do everything for me. The detail was nice, but it also meant more thinking. So this was how Awakened had received help from the System. Realizing my starting point had been different left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“What’s ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the difference?”

A reasonable limitation. I might be an old veteran who survived three years of the apocalypse with no abilities, but as an Awakened I was still a newbie who hadn’t lasted a single day. In times like these it was best to listen to something that knew more than I did.

I’d already thought about this before the regression, so the decision was quick.

“Find me a slave who can use a Life Kit.”