Chapter 8 - Wrath

"It's impossible. You must die. However, I can promise you a quick death," Sylas said coldly.

The fat man had seen something he shouldn't have and had ambushed him.

Sylas couldn't let him live.

"I don't want to die, please give me a chance," the fat man pleaded desperately.

But Sylas's mind was made up. He wouldn't spare him.

Sylas raised the fire axe and walked towards the fat man.

The fat man's eyes were filled with fear of death.

Suddenly, the fat man shouted maniacally, "If you won't spare me, then we'll die together."

"Zombies, come here! Come eat us! Let's all die together."

The fat man screamed loudly.

His voice was so loud it would surely attract nearby zombies.

That was his goal.

He wanted to draw the zombies in and die with Sylas.

Since Sylas wouldn't spare him, he wanted to take Sylas down with him.

Sylas had intended to kill the fat man with one swift axe blow to give him a quick death.

But hearing the fat man's screams, Sylas's lips curled into a mocking smile.

"Do you know? I was going to give you a quick death."

"After all, we are both humans, and I didn't want you to die painfully," Sylas said indifferently.

"I don't need your mercy. I just want you to die with me," the fat man snarled.

Facing the entrance, he could see a swarm of zombies rushing towards them.

Previously, the sight of zombies filled him with fear.

But now, seeing them filled him with satisfaction.

He could use the zombies to get his revenge.

He would die, but so would the man in front of him.

Satisfaction, pure satisfaction.

Sylas also heard the approaching footsteps of the zombies.

But he didn't move, nor did he turn to look at them.

Sylas not only refrained from attacking the zombies but also put away his axe.

He stood there quietly, watching the fat man.

The fat man's expression was bewildered; he couldn't understand what Sylas was up to.

Then, he saw the zombies rush into the convenience store.

Just as the fat man expected the zombies to attack Sylas, he was horrified to see that the zombies ignored the man and instead pushed past him, lunging at the fat man.

One zombie, two zombies, three zombies.

The zombies pounced on the fat man, biting and devouring him.

He screamed in agony.

Through the gaps between the zombies, he saw the man still standing there, motionless.

Sylas just stood there, watching as the fat man was eaten alive.

The fat man regretted it.

Being torn apart by zombies was excruciatingly painful.

He wanted to beg Sylas to kill him with one swift axe blow, to end his suffering.

But it was too late.

Everything was over.

He had brought this upon himself.

Sylas watched until the fat man was completely devoured before turning to leave.

This was the reality of humanity in the apocalypse: those who couldn't survive would drag others down with them.

If they couldn't live, they wouldn't let others live either.

For such people, Sylas had two words: "Serves you right."

Sylas exited the convenience store, not disturbing the zombies as they fed.

Compared to scheming humans, zombies were far simpler.

As long as Sylas didn't attack the zombies, they wouldn't attack him.

The presence of zombies, in fact, protected Sylas.

Sylas, carrying food, slowly walked back to Clarissa's villa.

Along the way, there were zombies everywhere.

Because Sylas emitted the same aura as the zombies, they didn't attack him.

An ordinary person would have been eaten by these zombies long ago.

Survivors also didn't notice Sylas.

After all, who would pay attention to an ordinary zombie in a horde of zombies?

After a while, Sylas arrived at the villa's entrance.

Sylas knocked on the door.

Inside, Clarissa jumped at the sound, startled.

Fortunately, she heard Sylas's voice from the other side of the door.

"Clarissa, open the door. It's me, I'm back," Sylas said softly.

Clarissa sighed with relief and quickly unlocked the door to let Sylas in.

"Are you alright?" Clarissa asked with concern.

Although she wasn't familiar with Sylas yet, Clarissa knew that her survival depended on him.

So, Sylas had to be safe.

"Of course, I'm fine. If something happened to me, you would die too."

"But, living in a world like this, if I were gone, you wouldn't survive either. Dying together might actually be a good ending for you," Sylas said with a smile.

Hearing Sylas say this so casually sent a shiver down Clarissa's spine.

"I'm a bit dirty. You need to give me a bath," Sylas ordered Clarissa.

"Give you a bath?" Clarissa said in shock.

She thought she had misheard.

"You're my slave. Did you think I would take care of you for nothing?"

"If you're not useful to me, why should I keep you?"

Sylas looked at Clarissa and asked.

"I understand," Clarissa said softly, feeling dejected.

Sylas didn't care about her feelings. He asked where the bathroom was and went there directly.

Although it had been a month since the apocalypse began, water and electricity were still available.

While life was still somewhat convenient, maintaining good hygiene habits was important.

Before long, they both arrived at the bathroom.