First Harvest
"Hoo..."
I double-checked that no more zombies were coming, then stepped out into the hallway. I inspected each of the fallen zombies one by one. I paid extra attention to the one with the hole punched through its chest, checking twice to make sure it wasn't moving before cautiously heading toward the central stairs.
The shitty chack-chack sound of blood sticking to my shoes echoed, but it didn't draw any more zombies.
These guys are probably the ones that came when I fired the Ice Spear from my room earlier.
I examined their clothes and recalled the faces I'd seen before. Since none of the occasional faces from the second floor were among them, they must have come up from lower levels after hearing the noise.
Still, not bad for the first time.
It was my first fight, but it hadn't gone poorly. I hadn't panicked at their movements and had calmly aimed for their heads with my magic.
And I got some harvest out of it.
From the second-floor zombies, I'd learned they had sight and hearing. And that unless you crippled their upper spine or brain, they stayed alive even if their waist was severed.
Smell... I wasn't sure about that. Didn't really need to know anyway. But good vision and mediocre hearing was useful info. It meant I didn't have to move completely silently.
Mana at 7, proficiency at 6. Seven shots. A decent number, but not enough to clear all the zombies near the villa. From what I'd roughly counted from the balcony earlier, there were over thirty.
Should I go full stealth mode like in a damn infiltration game?
Honestly, luring them was best. Clear the first floor, intercept with Ice Spears from inside the door, retreat to my place, repeat—eventually I'd wipe out the nearby ones.
But I was starving right now, and I'd die of hunger before that worked.
The neighbor's doors are probably all locked too.
I couldn't exactly raid other apartments. In novels, doors were conveniently open, but our villa was modern inside despite the old building—definitely all locked. Even an Ice Spear wouldn't open a solid steel front door.
Fuck it.
So I carefully descended the central stairs to the first floor. With the convenience store just across the street from the villa, as long as I watched the parking lot, it should be easy.
Chack. My blood-soaked sneakers made an annoying sound on the ground.
Luckily—or unluckily—no zombies on the first floor. Still, they could pop out anywhere, so I stayed alert, scanning everywhere as I moved cautiously.
Kiiik. I opened the front gate I'd used every day coming home, slipping outside carefully.
Once out, I ducked low behind the nearby flower bed.
"Grrrruk."
"Grrruuuk."
The parking lot to the left of the villa—the spot I'd seen from my window—crawled with dozens of zombies. No way I could kill them all even if I used every remaining Ice Spear.
I shifted my gaze right. Fortunately, the side with the convenience store—my target—had fewer. One zombie wandering dumbly alone at the crosswalk, and another about ten meters away, staggering around.
If I make noise, they'll come.
I started to form an Ice Spear but stopped. Considering the noise it made, taking out two zombies that way was too risky. The whole parking lot pack would swarm the front gate for sure.
Hitting them with the frying pan? Doubt it'd kill them properly.
Fuck.
The shitty situation brought curses to mind naturally. But since I didn't say it out loud, guess I wasn't that hungry or suicidal.
I racked my brain for how to take out those zombie bastards and cross to the store.
...That...
Then I spotted a wooden plank lying by a car idiotically parked crooked on the left edge. Blood on one end—probably used by a survivor who was now a zombie himself.
Hitting heads with that would make noise, but not too much. Not that I'd ever bashed a human skull with one. Still, quieter than the frying pan for sure.
I smeared the blood off my shoe on the flower bed, tossed the pan in a corner, and stealthily moved toward the plank.
"Grrruk?"
Luckily, the car was close to the flower bed. Stepping carefully on flowers to muffle sound, I grabbed the plank in no time.
Hoo...
Back to position carefully. No dumbass slips on branches or tripping.
Got it.
With the plank in hand, tension had me soaked in sweat. I wiped my face and sighed.
Pathetic, getting worked up over this.
But the situation was what it was—heart pounding. At the gate, I could've run if zombies swarmed. But caught picking up the plank? Dead meat.
Still, I succeeded. Gripped the plank tight to avoid dropping it like an idiot. Splinters poked my hand.
Gloves would be nice.
But torn skin was a risk I'd accept. Better than nothing.
I crept toward the zombie across from the store, not far away. Stealth mode: one step every ten seconds for a perfect ambush.
It worked—I got close. The staggering zombie was a short woman, easy to aim for the head. Muscles tensed to screaming point, then—
Splack!
One hit caved its skull, dropping it. Weird sensation in my hands.
Tsk...
The female zombie still looked somewhat human, which felt off. But zombies were irreversible. Glanced back—no parking lot zombies coming.
Sigh of relief, then toward the crosswalk one.
Should've lured with an Ice Spear.
Creeping step-by-step, I debated just hurling one at the store window to draw the pack. But no—might pull extras from elsewhere, and wasting mana from my seven shots sucked.
Fine.
Splack.
Familiar headshot on the crosswalk zombie. Solid flesh, even zombie skulls weren't that loud. Lucky its back was to me for the sneak attack.
Hoo.
Luck was skill too. I checked the store carefully. Afternoon sun cast orange light inside. Signs of presence, but no people. Far from parking lot, so noise inside shouldn't draw the horde.
Kiiik. Ding-ring.
The familiar chime as I opened the door.
Shit.
"Gruk?"
Dull zombie eyes met mine. Unlike before, bad luck—blind spot outside hid them.
"Grraaaagh!"
Two inside: drooling neck-limp store clerk in apron, and sunken-headed 30s woman in suit. Looked like she infected him early. Now they shrieked together.
"Kieeeek!"
"Kiiiiieeeeeek!"
They charged madly. Under 10 meters—three seconds to me. Frying pan plan scrapped. Calmly chanted at their heads.
"Ice Spear, Ice Spear."
Ice Spear x2
30cm ice spears manifest before targets' heads.
Shoooong!
Splat! Splash!
Spears pulverized the clerk and woman's skulls instantly. Ice shards, blood, brains, flesh chunks splattered walls and ceiling—like bomb blasts on white canvas.
Thud. They crumpled headless.
But not over. Store not cleared yet.
Kagak. I scraped the rack with my plank. Once, twice, three times.
Kagak. Sound echoed in quiet store.
"Kieeek."
As expected, one reacted. Bald zombie at fourth rack, legless, crawling with hands.
Figures.
No need for magic on crawlers. Approached slowly, raised plank high.
Chack chack. Blood-slick floor slowed it. Legless zombies were glacial, like upstairs. Timed perfectly, smashed down.
Splack! Crunch! Splack!
Coup de grâce—skull sank, stopped moving. Hands stung from cuts, but swallowed it. Scraped racks again.
Kagak. Kagak.
No more. Checked outside—no incoming.
Hoo.
Finally, time to loot. Messy from zombies, but stocked. No human scavengers yet.
Good.
Priority: food and water in this hell. Water via Ice Spear, pipes still worked—deferred. Bulky anyway.
Food first. Grabbed anything edible: canned goods over sandwiches or kimbap with short shelf life.
Backpack bulged.
Good enough.
Greed hit. Ate a kimbap, eyed daily goods: TP, wipes, shampoo, painkillers, cold meds.
These...
Post-apocalypse, factories dead—no more. Shoved into 20L trash bag with plank, carried double-handed. Rustle risky, but minor noises didn't aggro earlier, and Ice Spears were verbal—fine if careful.
Ding-ring.
Quick shopping done. Chime again. Twilight falling outside.
Scanned surroundings, wary of ambushes, crept back to villa.
Crinkle. Crinkle.
Gruk?
Trash bag rustle no aggro, as expected. Still vigilant, hugging walls, avoiding snag on plank.
Kiiik.
Back at villa. No relaxing till 202—gate, first floor, second, door.
Chack. Thud thud. Kiiik.
"Ha. Fuck."
Inside my door, tension snapped. Dropped bags and pack, collapsed at entrance.
Then, laughter bubbled up unbidden.
"Ha... hahahaha."
First outing: success. Food, meds, essentials secured. In this zombie shithole, I'd harvested my first yield.