The deceased townspeople dragged their stiff bodies forward, as if all their moisture had been drained in an instant, leaving them withered and lifeless.
Without, there was longing, and Wayne and William became the prime targets of the surging crowd.
Wayne didn't know how to describe these people, whether they were undead or zombies. If the Deathwalker ritual was successful, it was too sinister. Not only did it kill the entire town in an instant, but it also wiped out all vitality, even erasing the breath of the living from the air.
The horde of corpses lurched forward, numbering over a hundred, including livestock like chickens and dogs.
Wayne weighed the crowbar in his hand, comparing the combat power of both sides, then followed his instinct to close the door and start the car.
"Where are we going?" William asked from the passenger seat.
"To find Veronica and get out of this damn place as soon as possible," Wayne replied with a grave expression. The zombies moved slowly and were fragile; a crowbar in his hand could cut through them like dawn breaking. They were not to be feared.
To illustrate, giving a mischievous child a wooden sword wouldn't let them cause much damage in a field of rapeseed for miles.
But the supernatural warning was genuine. Something terrible pervaded the town, everywhere, posing a serious threat to his life.
Wayne didn't know much about supernatural magic, but he tentatively defined it as a curse.
"Do you know where Veronica is? The town is so big. Maybe you should retreat first, and I'll go find her and Monica," William suggested.
"I know. Just follow the scent," Wayne replied.
Wayne reversed the car a distance, shifted gears, and accelerated, driving the car into the midst of the zombie horde.
A household car with a low chassis, despite its decent value, was not built for collisions. As the tires rolled over the desiccated zombies, the car's body jostled and shook, unable to move forward after a short sprint.
But it was enough!
The car broke through the encirclement, carving out a path, fulfilling the task entrusted to it by Wayne.
William was the first to jump out of the car, brandishing the crowbar in his hand, swinging it through the air with a whooshing sound. Any zombie that came close was shattered into pieces under the force of the crowbar.
Out of reverence, Wayne kept a certain distance. Swinging his crowbar and shouting, "Veronica is in the church. We don't have much time. Let's go get her out."
William grunted, his crowbar sweeping through the horde with unmatched ferocity.
For Wayne, zombies and floating spirits were two different creatures. He remained calm, using some simple techniques he had subconsciously acquired after the initial chaos, conserving energy while ensuring effective output.
Experience points up, +1, +1, +1...
Passing by the town's inn, two dried-up, hunched figures blocked their way, their faces ghastly, unrecognizable from their former selves.
Wayne recognized the clothes they wore—the generous and kind-hearted sisters. The bills in their collars were ones he had slipped in.
Their voices and smiles still lingered, and Wayne felt a twinge of regret as he swung his crowbar, tears in his eyes. He picked up the bills and hurried to catch up with William.
The town was ablaze, the hot air intensifying the evaporation of moisture. Strangely, no matter how fierce the flames, they couldn't completely burn down the wooden buildings, nor could they ignite the flammable zombies.
Gasping for breath, the two arrived at the end of the street, at the church, the only building not engulfed in flames. Amidst the inferno surrounding them, the quiet church seemed out of place.
A gunshot rang out, startling Wayne and William. They rushed across the fence-lined lawn, exerting their strength to push open the church doors together.
Inside, rows of pews were neatly arranged, with a cross and candles casting flickering shadows.
The priest, dressed in his usual black robe, looked immaculate except for his withered face, indistinguishable from the chaotic zombies outside.
The priest had lost his life due to the sacrifice.
Veronica held a gun, facing off against the priest. She had just fired a shot, hitting the priest squarely in the chest and leaving a visible hole.
"You don't need to stop the ritual. This town has been dead for years, and it's time to let the townspeople rest," the priest said, his jaws closed, emitting a decaying voice buried deep underground.
Veronica called out to William, who immediately understood and strode forward, wielding his crowbar to strike at her.
A white halo blossomed at Veronica's feet, a sacred aura enveloping her, creating a barrier that prevented her from leaving and casting magic within the confines of the barrier.
The prison was a magic spell cast by the priest, known within the clergy as divine magic, bestowed upon them by the gods to imprison evil and allow them to bask in the glory of the Lord.
It sounded impressive, but it could be broken from the outside and wasn't invincible.
And the version hadn't been updated for a long time. Even firearms had undergone several generations of upgrades, but the clergy's divine magic remained old-fashioned, failing to keep up with the times.
With William's efforts, Veronica quickly escaped from the prison. She punched beside her, shattering the white light and releasing Monica, who had also been imprisoned separately.
The black cat blended with the surroundings, invisible unless she spoke.
"What do you mean, the townspeople have been dead for years?" Monica asked coldly, feeling extremely uncomfortable under the eerie moonlight, suspected of blasphemy against the moon goddess and needing clarification.
"Fifty years ago, Cafuno Town was cursed, and the townspeople became the living dead. They didn't know they were already dead—they breathed, had heartbeats, bled when injured, aged, and gave birth to offspring like normal people... "
"But the dead are still the dead. Members of the Nielsen family discovered the truth, and the informed townspeople were invited to a meeting. I was one of the informed..."
"The Nielsen family were followers of the death goddess. They demanded an immediate ritual to allow the dead to return to death's embrace. The mayor and the councilors disagreed. No one wanted to give up their lives, nor did they have the right to end the lives of others. Besides, everyone wasn't really dead; they could live their lives like normal people until the young people took over the town."
"I supported the mayor and the councilors..."
"The Nielsen family insisted on their views, gathering family members who were away to hold the ritual, and that night, they went on a killing spree..."
"We won and swore to bury the secrets of that night. We all believed that as long as we concealed the truth, the townspeople wouldn't know they were already dead, and everyone would live and die like ordinary people until the young people took over the town."
The priest, like an NPC, mechanically recounted the events of the past fifty years. Due to his proficiency in magic, he retained his obsession, hoping that the heirs of the Nielsen family would complete the ritual.
But that was all. The priest's thoughts had long decayed, and he answered whatever was asked of him, revealing everything without reservation.
"I gradually realized my mistake. Back then, to keep the festering wound alive, we excised healthy tissue..."
"Wait a minute!"
Wayne interrupted the narrative, his expression grave. "What do you mean by 'the outsiders will also be cursed'? What does that mean?"