Turning his gaze back to Thomas, Lucas scrutinized him with a sly grin. "Are you truly Sarah's brother?" he inquired.
"Yes," came the confirmation.
"Odd that you two don't share much resemblance."
"Different fathers."
"Enough about that. Tell me the real reason you wanted us dead. I don't trust James's version."
"Whatever he told you, do you believe I'd spill the truth?"
"You will," Lucas declared, his voice firm
Thomas hesitated briefly. "We're more alike than you think."
Lucas weighed the statement in his mind.
"James possesses a skill that gauges people's strength. That's why he ordered Ethan to eliminate you on the day you joined our group."
"James has two skills?"
"Yes. Who'd believe two kids, claiming to be desperate, starving siblings, when they possess more combat prowess than him? Little did he know that merely wielding a gun doesn't make you invincible."
"He was too cocky."
Lucas's words resonated with Thomas, making him consider the possibility of his own arrogance. He could hardly stand, his knee joint bleeding profusely. Despite the excruciating pain, he held back tears and refrained from screaming.
"Just end my life," Thomas's hoarse voice pleaded, carrying the weight of his exhaustion.
Lucas questioned, "Are you certain?"
"Am I not deserving of death?"
"You most certainly are."
"Then why ask if I'm certain?"
"Forget it. Our similarities are more striking than you realize."
"What do you mean, kid?
"It's of no significance. Farewell."
Lucas raised his sharp jian horizontally, aimed at Thomas's neck. The habit of fighting countless zombies directed his blade with precision.
"Goodbye," Thomas muttered, his voice embittered and riddled with complex emotions. With his final words, the blade slashed through his neck, delivering immense pain.
"Whoosh!" A sound pierced the air as Lucas's sword sank further, deepening the wound and sending Thomas collapsing to the floor.
In those final moments, as his vision faded, he mused, "I have no regrets."
With his jian embedded deeply in Thomas's neck, Lucas applied gradual pressure, witnessing Thomas's breath gradually cease. As Thomas's life slipped away, Lucas let out a sigh and administered one final kick, severing his head from his body.
'Perhaps he truly had no regrets,' Lucas contemplated as he looked at Thomas's lifeless head resting on the floor, his expression serene.
Observing the decapitated head, Lucas mused, 'For a cannibalistic murderer like him, his death may not be as painful as the lives he took and consumed.'
---
[Level 8 Mutated Human Killed, Awarding 80 Exp!]
---
'Level 8?' Lucas pondered, cleansing his bloodstained jian by pouring water over it. He glanced down the gruesome hallway before him, leading to the stairway. The sight was nauseating—disembodied limbs, sliced torsos, heads on the floor, melted ice, and blood-soaked walls, some sections even charred by fire.
Lucas couldn't help but wonder, 'How did Lucy manage this carnage?'
As he walked through the macabre scene, occasionally treading over lifeless bodies and sticky blood, he counted around twenty-two corpses littering the narrow hallway on the second floor. While not an overwhelming number, in this confined space, it transformed the passage into a corridor of death.
Descending the stairs, he encountered more fallen bodies and body parts, until he reached the first floor.
'Odd,' he thought, as he encountered whole corpses on the ground floor, suggesting that some hadn't ventured upstairs. A noise resonated from a room at a distance.
He approached cautiously, gripping his jian tightly.
"Creak!" The door wasn't locked.
Upon entering, he heard the sound of retching.
'Is she vomiting again?' Lucas wondered.
Opening the door fully, his gaze fell upon several women in the room—approximately six or seven. Among them was Sarah, clutching her daughter protectively. Sarah's eyes darted to Lucas, fear evident in her expression.
Sarah's eyes scanned him warily as she huddled with her daughter. About half an hour ago, the sounds of upstairs fighting and screams filled the air. Initially, some men rushed to investigate, but none returned. More followed suit and met with the same fate. With growing dread, Sarah and the other women remained hidden in their room, immobilized by the cacophony of desperate death upstairs.
As the situation escalated, Sarah's unease increased. She saw the girl from earlier open their door. She knew the girl had lost her mother, likely her brother too, given her solitary presence.
After a few exchanged words with the surrounding women, Sarah approached the girl, who stood silently, her gaze fixed on them after the door closed behind her. Sarah assumed the girl must be feeling sadness or perhaps horror about the turmoil taking place upstairs. Considering the girl's prolonged absence since that incident, Sarah couldn't fathom what she had endured in the meantime.
Moved by the urge to provide comfort, Sarah stepped closer, ready to offer reassuring words. However, her intention was cut short when she noticed the black katana clutched in the young girl's hand, its blade bearing traces of red, even though it appeared dampened by water.
Sarah's instinctive response was to freeze. The girl, as if acknowledging her, let out a sigh before addressing her.
"Where is the bathroom?"
Sarah's perception of the girl abruptly shifted. Gone was the image of a frightened child; now she was confronted with someone carrying a sword as though it were the most natural thing in the world. As if in a daze, Sarah pointed hesitantly towards the bathroom. The girl nodded and proceeded towards it, her steps firm and assured.
As the bathroom door closed, Sarah turned back to the woman on the bed. Their expressions mirrored her own shock, most likely due to the sight of the girl's weapon. She returned to her position near the bed, trembling slightly, clutching her daughter's hand. A heavy silence settled upon them all.
Sarah's heart ached as she held her daughter close. The young girl had endured much in the past few days. Her daughter, only seven years old, had been subjected to an overwhelming ordeal. Sarah often caught her daughter experiencing nightmares, waking up in tears whenever she encountered the group leader. Zombies appeared to be a source of profound fear for her daughter. Thankfully, they seemed to avoid Group Leader Ethan.
Minutes crawled by, the silence suffocating them until a sound broke through—the sound of retching emanating from the bathroom. Sarah's thoughts raced, her first instinct jumping to the possibility of pregnancy. After all, what else could induce vomiting? Food was scarce, and overeating wasn't a plausible cause.
Yet, the sound of the girl vomiting seemed incongruous. How could someone with a blood-stained sword be so unsettled? Sarah's mind circled back to the thought—could she be pregnant? And how old was she?
The sound of the bathroom door opening once again shattered the tension. The women huddled together on the bed, trembling, scarcely daring to make a sound. Sarah, her body pressed tightly against the bed, readied herself to protect her daughter.
The door swung wider, revealing the silhouette of someone entering. Time seemed to stretch as the shadow slowly diminished, revealing the individual. Squinting, Sarah recognized the figure—it was the girl's brother.
'Isn't that the girl's brother?' she thought, a flicker of recognition crossing her mind. Her gaze shifted to the boy's side, noticing the sword stained with blood, although not as vividly red as the girl's blade. Against the surrounding white walls, the contrasting color stood out starkly.
Uncertain whether this enigmatic sibling could be trusted, Sarah braced herself, ready to defend her daughter if necessary. The boy's lips parted, and his voice broke the silence.
"Oh, Aunt Sarah. Glad you are safe."
The boy's unexpectedly casual greeting shattered the tense atmosphere, prompting Sarah to let out an involuntary exclamation of surprise.
"Huh!?"