The Beopbong's Desperate Flight
Even inside a zombie apocalypse novel, I couldn't shake off every last zombie. It took one or two swings of the Beopbong to drop a single one. Occasionally I'd crush two at once, but those moments were rare. The zombies kept coming in greater numbers. I needed to kill three or four with each swing just to catch my breath. Before long, they had me surrounded. It would've been one thing if they'd all rushed me at once, but being encircled from every direction made it far worse.
“Shit, this sucks!”
Getting beaten and bitten didn't mean I could stop. I had to peel the zombies off me while watching for the monster's attacks. Suddenly a shadow fell over me, followed by a crushing impact that scrambled my thoughts. When I came to, I was somehow flying through the air—six or seven stories high at least.
“…!”
Then another brutal shock slammed into my back. Something crumbled beneath me, and my body began to fall. An advertising board mounted on the building wall rushed up to meet me. Instinct screamed danger. I tried to move my limbs, but they wouldn't respond—whatever had happened earlier had locked them up tight.
“…Hurk! Urgh, uweeegh…”
I hit the board vertically. Something inside felt ruptured—maybe broken ribs stabbing organs. There was no other way to explain the blood pouring from my mouth. My vision was even blurrier than before, spinning wildly from the impact. A constant ringing filled my ears. All I could smell was the metallic tang of blood.
Then I realized where I was: impaled on a third-floor advertising board that was already half-torn loose and swaying. The intelligent variant seemed to sense an opportunity. It let out a series of groans, and the zombies below began to retreat in a hurry. They cleared the ground beneath me, removing anything that might cushion the fall. I could see the monster uprooting nearby trees and piling them up. That alone was despairing enough—until rocks started whistling through the air.
Throwers on the rooftop were hurling stones over the railing. What began as simple drops quickly became aimed throws. The board's joints finally gave way. For a split second I wondered if surviving a three-story fall was even possible. Then my hand moved to my head on reflex, and consciousness cut out again.
When I next opened my eyes, I felt something gripping my hair. I wiped the blood from my face and found the monster staring down at me.
“Grwoooar.”
“Grrraaar!”
Its gaze was exactly like a child toying with an insect—pulling off legs one by one to see if it was still alive. That condescending look at something beneath it made rage boil up inside me. My body felt somewhat recovered, so I gritted my teeth and tried to move. I planned to wrap my legs around its arm and shift its posture. A few strands of hair might tear out, but partial baldness beat dying. The moment I hooked my leg around its hand, the monster casually slammed me—fist and all—into the ground like a hammer.
It wasn't satisfied with one strike. It readjusted its grip and started pounding me into the pavement over and over, playing some twisted game. Dozens of nearby zombies got caught in the chaos. Thanks to shielding my face with my arms, nothing was immediately fatal, but strength drained from my entire body.
“Grwoooar.”
“…What.”
I couldn't even attack the monster smirking above me while I lay spread-eagled on the corpses. My Beopbong had flown off somewhere anyway. I lay there unable to so much as twitch a finger. Regeneration was happening, but the pain binding my whole body made movement impossible. Even if I fully recovered, the burden wouldn't vanish right away. Still, stopping meant death. As I tried to push myself up like someone doing scissor kicks, the monster drove the Beopbong straight into my stomach.
“…!”
My limbs flailed like a dissected frog in a lab. It had picked up the weapon somewhere and was now using it to poke and prod me, carefully controlling its strength so it wouldn't break bones. Eventually it grew bored, tossed the Beopbong onto me, and backed away—an unspoken demand that I get up and fight again. The other zombies had lost interest too. They went about their business, ignoring me even as I coughed and wheezed. Watching them haul away corpses without bothering to attack me felt both pathetic and infuriating.
“…Ah.”
Somehow I was standing again when I regained my senses. The Beopbong was back in my hand, and zombies were charging. My usual fighting style had been to endure and counter. That wouldn't work anymore. Not that saying it would magically change anything—I wasn't going to awaken mid-battle and start boxing like an outfighter.
“Grrraaar…!”
“Grrraaaar…”
“Grrraaar…”
But one thing was certain: after all that punishment, I still wasn't on the brink of death. My body had grown tougher and regenerated faster. To reach that threshold again, I'd need to take far heavier hits. And the only way to do that was to get closer.
“Heh.”
I steadied my stance, dodged through the zombies, then stopped and gauged the monster's position. I planted my left foot, spun several times to build momentum, and hurled the Beopbong straight at its face. The monster had been laughing, thinking I was just spinning to kill zombies, and even leaned its head forward. I couldn't help but grin.
“Eat this!”
“GRWOOOOOOAR!!!!!!”
The Beopbong flew true and punched straight through its left eye. It had been half a gamble, but it worked. Before I could savor the victory, a massive fist came whistling toward me. The monster began swinging wildly, trying to crush me. I dropped and covered my head on reflex. The blows weren't fatal—by my standards. Anyone else would have been dead or unconscious already.
Amusingly, the intelligent variant hadn't anticipated the monster's rampage. It tried ordering zombies to pull me out, but they kept getting caught in the monster's frenzy and dying by the hundreds. I almost wished it would keep raging like that. Then the monster suddenly grabbed me by the legs, hoisted me like a club, and started swinging me at the zombies on the rooftop railing. They burst apart on impact. Still furious, it turned on the surrounding zombies next. The intelligent variant had fled, leaving the monster without a controller—which was fortunate, except for the part where it was currently using me as a weapon.
Consciousness flickered in and out multiple times within a single minute. My upper body should've been torn apart, yet my body kept regenerating desperately to preserve life. Feeling my nose break and heal, break and heal, over and over was anything but pleasant. Finally, when most of the nearby zombies lay dead, the monster let out a thunderous roar, slammed me into the ground, stomped on me once, and howled. Then it reached down to pick me up again, clearly not finished.
“Hey, you bastard.”
“Grwoooar…?”
“I really think I'm gonna die this time.”
I poured strength into my body. The monster's grip loosened in surprise. Sneering at its confused expression, I took a deep breath and steadied myself. I was in no condition anyone could call normal. Regeneration alone wouldn't win this fight, so I funneled every last bit of power into raw strength. My eardrums had ruptured and healed so many times that my hearing was temporarily gone. My nose was numb from the stench of blood and rotting corpses. One eye refused to open no matter how hard I tried. Honestly, the urge to just give up was overwhelming. If I knelt and begged, maybe it would spare me. But I'd come this far. I had to see it through. Screaming internally, I forced my broken body to move.
I'd never fought anything this massive before, but one truth remained: hit fucking hard and dodge fucking fast, and anything was possible.
“Hup!”
“GRWOOOOOAR!”
I met the monster's left swing with my own left fist. A shockwave like a car crash rattled through me—bones definitely broke. Two fingers throbbed and darkened with bruises. The monster had felt it too; its left arm moved slower now. It had landed one good hit on me earlier. Now it was my turn to land one. I cocked my right fist back, and the second round began.