As he looked at the dead youth, the old man was distraught. He cast a murky glance towards the zombie rushing towards him, his aged hand gave a swift turn, and slapped the zombie's head to spin multiple times around its neck, twisting it into a braid. The zombie crumpled to the ground with a thud.
"Are you a fool?"
The old man let out a sorrowful sigh. The youth may have been a bit scruffy, but over the past month, he had noticed the boy's genuine heart. And now he was dead, a pitiful and yet nameless death.
Yes, he truly was an unnamed hero, ordinary yet great. But so what? Such matters held no significance to the old man.
Staring at his corpse, the old man turned his attention to the chaos in the distance, and for the first time, he questioned his life journey.
What are people alive for?
Is it for power? For money? For fame? Or is it just to live?
