The head of the zombie guard rolled on the tiled floor, its empty eyes staring at an indifferent sky.
A deathly silence fell over the macabre battlefield, the zombie guards motionless, frozen in their relentless advance.
Our man's face was a mask of rage and determination, his muscles taut like bowstrings. His gaze swept over the zombies, searching for any threat, any sign of movement.
Our man didn't succumb to blind fury. Aware of the impossibility of annihilating them, he had chosen a more pragmatic approach: immobilization. Through precise and deliberate actions, he mutilated the limbs and heads of the walking corpses, depriving them of any pursuit capability.
And this strategy had paid off. Apart from the regular drip of blood on the floor, nothing stirred.
But as our man adjusted his clothes, a chilling laughter echoed in the silence, shattering the illusion of peace.
