Reap What You Sow (4)

One of the differences I'd come to realize after gaining the status window, growing stronger, and acquiring all sorts of things was my regenerative ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ability. Strength, Agility, Intelligence, Perception. It was a small number if you were trying to summarize all of a human's capabilities, but that meant each stat governed an incredibly broad range of functions. Strength was a prime example. If it had only increased raw power like in a game, there would've been plenty of problems, but fortunately that wasn't the case. Strength massively enhanced everything related to my muscles and physical power. My body had grown tougher. Endurance and health, things like that, had also improved. If they hadn't, I would've been dead already from fighting the crusader. Or maybe I'd have torn myself apart trying to wield power beyond my body's limits. Either way, the fact that I was still alive proved both my resilience and my growth. So, my recovery was fast.

"How's that?"

"This should be enough... I think I can move now."

Her voice had a strangely subdued tone. There was even a hint of disappointment in my sister's voice. I knew why she was acting that way.

"Why? Disappointed?"

"...Yeah."

"Why are you disappointed?"

"Ah-hyun likes taking care of Oppa..."

My little sister deliberately slurred her words in that cute way. I let out a sigh and shook my head, but I wasn't actually annoyed. My sister knew that well enough. Well, then.

"If I think you've done a good job, I'll let you touch me. That good enough?"

"...Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Oppa—"

My sister looked up at me with sparkling eyes, clearly moved. It wasn't hard to understand. Touching myself didn't feel addictive, but when I touched her, there was this strange addictive quality to it. It reminded me of those liquid monster toys I'd seen her play with before, even though I'd never played with one myself. Exactly that kind of feeling. So I could let her touch me as a reward and a way to praise her. I'd gotten used to it enough that it even finished faster than when I did it myself.

I looked at the scar on the back of my hand, the puncture wound still red and uneven. The vertical entry wound made the shape oddly unsatisfying. Maybe I should just be grateful it wasn't a cross. Anyway, it was time to move.

"Then... shall we go?"

"Yeah, clothes first."

We finally put on clothes, leaving behind our long stint of complete nudity in the wild, our own little Garden of Eden. The goal was simple.

"These cultist bastards had a ton of food stockpiled. Think there's still a lot left?"

Food. We'd brought back everything from Building 2 that could be considered rations, but those supplies weren't infinite. I'd only noted the locations of the other food stores last time. Trying to take everything back then would've caused resistance, and wiping out all these bastards or creating some kind of incident would've been a hassle. You could say this was just a recovery operation for what we hadn't taken before. I didn't know how these guys would react, but at least now we were at a level where we could fight them head-on if needed. Tadol, Strength 15, Agility 9, swordsmanship with heavy blade techniques, plus hand-to-hand combat. My sister even had Advanced marksmanship and plenty of ammo. We had a shotgun ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and a pistol too. It'd be hard to lose against most threats. More than anything, people didn't risk their lives as easily as you'd think. Not unless they had my kind of cold calculation and certainty, that genius talent for accurately predicting victory or defeat.

"Why's your face like that, Oppa?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look kinda annoying."

"That's just me looking awesome."

Ignoring the sulky expression on Kang Ahyeon's face, we got dressed. My sister wore a dress under her leather jacket and strapped on an ammo belt. Two pouches, four magazines total. She'd made a sling for the shotgun from a belt she'd found in the penthouse and slung it over her shoulder, with the revolver tucked in her clothes. After I strapped the bayonet in its sheath to her thigh, she helped me get dressed. Pants, a shiny leather jacket, and activewear underneath. I put on the special belt made from two belts to hang the crusader's sword, attached the machete sheath made from the cult leader's handbag to my backpack, and we were ready. We looked threatening yet dignified.

We cleared the furniture stacked by the door. I wondered what those cultist bastards had been up to. Had they stayed quiet? Or had they been plotting something, or maybe run away? With a sense of anticipation, I opened the door. Priority was food. Then supplies. Once we'd gathered everything... maybe head over to Building 2 and hunt zombies while looting skills? That didn't sound bad. I was mulling it over when I stopped dead the moment I opened the door. The smell of blood hit my nose. Footsteps. Dragging, shuffling footsteps. My sister and I met each other's eyes. The moment the footsteps turned the corner, I thrust out the crusader's gauntlet. Crunch! Teeth sank into the milky-white arm guard. A familiar blood-soaked monster appeared before us. A zombie. Proof of the Rapture.

I moved faster than my sister could fire her gun. I shoved the arm guard forward to push it away while simultaneously drawing the machete from the sheath on my backpack and swinging it. Crunch! The zombie shuddered as the blade cleaved into its head. Its skull split left and right, but the ivory-colored gauntlet didn't even have a tooth mark. We both kicked the door open and rushed out. I held my arm up in front to shield us while my sister aimed her gun from behind me. The hallway came into view. The same corridor where I'd beaten those cultists to death. Now dozens of zombies were wandering through it. They turned their heads toward us. No reason to hesitate. The rifle immediately spat fire.

Kakakakakakakakakang!

She set the selector to semi-auto and pulled the trigger repeatedly. Even to my untrained eyes, her shooting posture was perfect. Zombies dropped like flies. Eyes, heads, foreheads shattered as they collapsed in all sorts of positions. But there were still more. I sheathed the machete and drew the crusader's sword instead, holding it in a middle guard. Graaaah! The moment they saw us, the zombies started running. They charged at a speed that was barely within human limits. No words were needed. I stepped forward. I stomped the ground while targeting the first one to leap at us. Thud. The blade advanced with my rolling foot. Shhhk! A vertical gash split the zombie's head in two. I watched it slide forward in the same running posture and took a step back. Whoosh, crack! I swung again the moment I retreated. The next zombie's head split horizontally. I knocked away its reaching hands with the sword's guard and brought the blade down on its head. Slash. Listening to the sound of brain matter pouring out from the cleanly severed skull, I faced the dozens of zombies charging toward me. Despite the number that would've normally made my head ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spin, the techniques etched into my body—techniques that weren't originally mine—guided me. I could see the way. Paths opened up. Responses to their attack patterns automatically filled my mind. My body moved on its own, like muscle memory. Multiple options even surfaced at once. I didn't stop. Head, head, head. I brought the blade down to cleave skulls, snapped my wrist and used my waist to pull it free and swing again, pushed away another zombie's head with the guard before smashing it down. Thud thud thud! Three heads split vertically. The sound of their contents spilling onto the floor almost simultaneously filled my ears. One took advantage of the opening and lunged with its jaws open, but I didn't freeze. Instead, I extended my arm. Crunch! There was no impact at all from the gnashing teeth. Watching the teeth scrape uselessly against the ivory armor, I stomped the ground and lowered my stance. Tadol. I used the armor on my arm as a weapon. The effect was immediate. Boom! Zombies went flying. They looked like they'd been hit by a dump truck. Some died on impact with the wall, others had broken bones and couldn't move. The zombie that had bitten the crusader's gauntlet was now just a torso. I swung my arm and flung it away, and my sister had already approached to stand right beside me. She was already aiming her rifle.

Kakakakakakakakakang!

The familiar sound rang out again. Every time the sharp crack of rifle fire echoed, zombie heads exploded. Heads burst, foreheads cracked, holes opened from their eyes as they spewed blood and collapsed. Watching the zombies twitch and fall as their bodies stiffened, I swung my sword. One approached. I cut its neck. I kicked away another trying to pass by and crushed another's head with my armored left arm. After beating down three more that came at me—head, waist, wrist, head—I noticed one had slipped past me. There were too many. A zombie whose thigh had been severed by my late swing still lunged at Kang Ahyeon. My sister didn't panic. She shot its knee with the rifle in one hand to slow it down, then drove the bayonet from her thigh straight into its crown. Crunch! The zombie shuddered and went still. In one smooth motion, she pulled out the bayonet, reattached it to the rifle, and chambered a round. Click! The crisp sound of the magazine locking in and the bolt being pulled was followed by gunfire. The sharp report of the rifle. Every time it spat fire, zombies dropped. But more were still coming up the stairs, drawn by the noise. Eventually—click, click! The magazine was empty. My sister slung the rifle onto her back and quickly brought the shotgun forward, aiming it.

"Oppa!"

The moment she called out, she stepped back. Standing right beside my sister, her aimed shotgun filled the hallway with death. Bang, bang, bang, boom! A downpour of buckshot poured out in succession. It tore into the hallway and ripped zombies apart. She hadn't fired all four shots at the same spot. She adjusted her aim slightly with each shot. The steel pellets sweeping through the corridor tore the zombies to shreds. Some died from too many hits or shattered heads, others had their waists split, limbs mangled and scattered. She fired intelligently to maximize the number of zombies caught in the blast. Even so, some were still coming up the stairs, but their numbers had dwindled. The remaining ones weren't difficult. I stomped the ground. Using Tadol to close the distance, I kicked one zombie in the waist to fold it in half, then took an upper guard stance and cut down the ones climbing the stairs. I split heads in half, knocked away reaching hands with the guard before stabbing through their cervical spines. Twisting the blade as I pulled it out, I swung horizontally to slice another head top to bottom. I raised the blade and swung straight to behead another, then kicked one into the wall. My sister fired her rifle in rapid succession until no more were coming up. Holding the red-hot barrel high, she loaded a fresh magazine and met my eyes. No words were needed. We both knew something had gone wrong. We'd thought it was oddly quiet, that the cultists hadn't tried anything, but what the hell had happened? I shook the blood off my sword, scattering it across the floor, and shouldered it. I needed to check. What kind of bullshit had gone down here, how this bullshit had happened, how many of them were left, whether the food and supplies were still intact. After one last look at my sister, I moved forward.