The First Trial (3)

Myung Sa-eun let out a long sigh as she watched Najin leave. She couldn't just sit still. Should I follow and help? But she shook her head. Was Najin that weak?

No. Najin's strong. He always tries to be alone, but that's just so he doesn't burden others.

She gave a bitter smile and leaned against the wall. Memories of first meeting Najin flooded back. His father had been somewhat famous in the martial arts world, so she'd been impressed looking over Najin's profile.

Of course, I heard later that his father passed away. It had been heartbreaking. She'd never gotten to meet such a strong martial artist in person. And yet, she'd felt an odd pull toward Najin. At first, she thought it was pity. She had a habit of looking after her juniors, which could easily turn into sympathy.

But as time passed, it grew into something she couldn't quite explain. Sa-eun placed a hand on her chest. Her full breasts rose and fell steadily beneath it.

Come to think of it, it's weird. Out of everyone in the club, Najin's the only one whose inner thoughts I can't read. The other was Eunha. She always acted like a cheeky little devil or a playful cat, cozy but keeping her distance. Najin, on the other hand, was easy to approach, but she'd never had a deep conversation with him. And he always looked so lonely. It sparked curiosity she couldn't ignore.

Maybe... this feeling means I'm seeing him as more than just a guy? Her heart fluttered involuntarily. Sa-eun had never dated in her life. She'd grown up under the famous action star Myung Sin-ho, training in every martial art imaginable. She practically was martial arts and romance—or lack thereof. Sa-eun had been raised upright, with a strong sense of justice.

She pictured Najin up on the rooftop. He kept nagging at her thoughts. She wanted to get closer to him. This crisis was her chance. She remembered how casually he'd grabbed her hand. And how he'd eaten the seolleongtang so heartily.

As his senior, I shouldn't feel this way. What do I do? How could she handle these elusive emotions? Vowing to find her own answer, she turned to gaze out the window.

From the rooftop, I peered down below. It was like the zombies had received an attack order—they swarmed toward the narrow entrance. Of course, they weren't just coming here.

The cafe entrance and the right-side one are getting hit too.

Screams echoed in real-time from the cafe side—probably people holed up there. Defending that would be tough; one whole wall was glass. The right entrance was still quiet.

"Kyaaak! Help me!"

A woman burst out from the cafe, collapsing amid the zombies. She looked up, our eyes meeting in her desperate, deathbed stare. I just shrugged. Why the hell should I help her? I wasn't some justice hero.

Big tits and pretty face or not, no reason to move right now. Priorities mattered. After watching the zombies tear into her for a bit, I checked the right entrance. Seemed like they'd barricaded it somehow.

The layout clicked. Perfect.

I checked my remaining blood volume. Weirdly, it regenerated.

Extracting blood from kills kept it steady around 500ml. I drew out about 50ml and morphed it into a bullet, firing it at a zombie pounding the door's head.

Whirrr—spurt! Like a silenced shot. The zombie hammering away shuddered and dropped dead.

A smirk crept up. This was what I wanted. And damn, it was convenient—no guessing if it was dead.

I kept firing bullets like this. Ignored the follow-ups; targeted only the door-pounders.

Why? Pile up their corpses into a mountain, and the entrance seals itself. Unless they climbed the walls, no way in. That's why barricading with junk was simple but optimal. Zombies had no weapons or powers—couldn't manage it.

Well, except one way up here.

I eyed the rooftop's other access—from the right-side entrance. Hoped those folks held out. A hollow laugh escaped. In a world where you can't trust anyone, you have to trust someone. The irony was delicious.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Smacking my lips, I watched zombie bodies stack by the glass door. Wanted to suck their blood dry, but too far.

Smooth sailing. Huh? Wait.

I looked up, widening my view. Behind the zombies stood something tall and ominous. At first, I thought it was just a big one. But the vibe was off. And that poncho—where'd it get that?

"What the fuck is that guy?"

It rode the zombies like a motorcycle. Face fully shrouded in leather. Thought it was a face mask at first. Unreal look.

Snipe it? No reaction—blood depleted. I clicked my tongue. Blood powers had limits.

"Shit, gotta refill."

Rushed down to the fifth-floor hospital. Sucked max blood from two corpses—not much. Not enough.

Oh, jackpot. Injection room had blood samples. Lucky—folks still getting COVID tests, I guess. Minimal, but whatever.

"Thanks, I'll put it to good use!"

Secured about 500ml. Back to the roof. Below, zombies stalled on the corpse pile. Plan working.

Dumbasses. Just clear the bodies. Application smarts? Zero.

Looked up—and narrowed my eyes. "Where'd that big fucker go?"

It had vanished from behind the horde. Scanned around at the weird noise.

Scraaape, clack! Swish, crrrack!

Fuck.

Leaned further. The thing climbed the wall, claws dug in.

"What, a goddamn dragooney? Receiving?!"

Four crab-leg limbs methodically scaling. Absurd. Closer now, details emerged: arms atrophied away. Not deformed. Face like a golf ball in leather.

Hastily condensed blood. Like this. No—add 50ml!

100ml arrow, hurled full force. Hit the face—evaporated. No pierce. How tough? Truck-piercing power.

What the hell is it? Mutant? First like this. Classic zombie flick mutant?

Or elite?!

Didn't matter. Had to crush it now, or we're breached. One of those could wipe the building. Didn't care about the other entrance, but Sa-eun? No way.

Fired another blood arrow at the chest—seemed softer. Slammed in deep.

"Bwoooo."

Foghorn groan? Eerie as hell. Tongue click, pondering. Barrage? But if it doesn't die...

Tried another 100ml to a leg. The one about to crest bent backward. Crumpled, didn't fall.

"Boooo!"

It quivered in rage. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Legs bulked up. Leapt onto the roof.

Gathered remaining blood into a spear, aimed.

"Bwoooo!"

"What're you yapping, soy sauce crab?"

Kicked a plastic chair at it. Crushed it mid-charge. Roof shook.

Slid aside, stabbed the flank, twisted out.

"Bwoooo!"

"Face and lower body's armored? Back down you go."

Charged again. Dodged, deep flank stab and retreat. Rinse, repeat—easy kill.

"Bwooo!" Quivered, charged. Went for the dodge—

It drifted mid-run, pivoting. Stood tall on two legs, lashed the other two.

Spear-blocked into a strength contest. This fucker's strong. Big build, freaky form. Mutant confirmed.

Spear arms trembled. Whipped bent leg incoming—dodged. Grazed my shoulder.

"Fuck."

Backpedaled hard. It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠roared, pressing to deny space.

Spotted it: the arrow hole. Fisted in.

"Brroooo!"

"Your mistake. Should've kept distance and charged."

Hand deep, draining blood. It smashed down with bent leg. Spear shattered blocking.

Weaponless peril—but

"Checkmate!"

Kicked the body, launched back. Blood sprayed wildly. Reached out—gathered it midair.

Hurled at it like a cannonball. "Die. For the new era."

Upper body shredded in real-time. Flew back, plummeted below.

Panting, I dashed to watch. Crashed into the black zombie mass—at the entrance.

Thunderclap to them. Heavy casualties—all zombies.

...

Mouth agape, I watched. One takedown caused that cascade. No clue how many died. Like dropping a nuke.

My chest thrummed from within. But one thing was clear.

Just the small fry? Over 50 points?!

Jackpot of jackpots. My whole body shivered with thrill.