The situation is not hard to imagine. Think of the stale, overpowering smell of a college dorm room in the dead of winter, sealed tight with the windows closed and the door shut for an entire night. Most people have experienced that kind of air—especially after stepping in from the fresh outdoors. Now, magnify that by years in a sealed space, and you might start to grasp the kind of stench a rotting zombie would generate. It's only natural that the odor would reach unimaginable levels.
John adjusted the freshly crafted belt around his waist, ensuring it fit snugly. Once satisfied, he attached a small waist pouch to it. Now, for the first time since obtaining it, the pouch was ready to use. Upon activating it, John noticed two one-cubic-meter compartments appear in front of him—space he could use to store and retrieve items at will.
He soon encountered a question: would combining objects into a single bundle count as one item? If so, it would make storage far more efficient. If not, two cubic meters might feel disappointingly limiting. To test his theory, John placed his trusty Beretta 92F pistol in the pouch. It occupied a single grid. Next, he separated the magazine from the pistol and tried again. This time, it took up two grids.
"Interesting," he mused. To push the limits further, John gathered old scraps of fabric left over from making the belt. He fashioned a makeshift furoshiki wrap and bundled up various items—alchemy materials, small potions, mineral water bottles, and canned food. When he stored this bundle in the pouch, it surprisingly occupied just one grid.
"Ha! I knew it!" John exclaimed with a grin. "I really am a genius." This discovery meant the pouch could hold far more than it seemed at first glance. After all, an average adult human's volume was only about 0.06 cubic meters. Imagining a contortionist squeezing into a tiny box made it seem more plausible.
With his storage problem solved, John turned his attention to a training manual he'd picked up earlier. It was labeled Raccoon City Police Department Special Weapon and Tactical Squad Operational Training Safety Manual.
"Let's see what this can do," he muttered before giving his approval to use it. The moment he did, time seemed to pause around him. A list of six skills appeared:
Guns Proficiency
Combat Mastery
Crisis Awareness
Search and Capture
Interception and Evacuation
Rapid Response
"Hmm, six skills... Which one should I choose?" John scratched his head as he scanned the options. The last three seemed irrelevant to his current goals—skills suited for police work rather than his zombie-infested reality. That left him with Guns Proficiency, Combat Mastery, and Crisis Awareness.
Given his focus on surviving and fighting zombies, Guns Proficiency seemed like the most practical choice. He had no experience with firearms and felt that being more accurate would save him valuable ammunition in the long run. Better accuracy meant more headshots, which meant fewer bullets wasted.
"Guns Proficiency it is," John decided. After selecting it, a small gray orb appeared in front of him. He crushed it in his hand, absorbing the skill instantly.
A notification appeared:
Guns Proficiency LV.1 (Passive Skill)
Skill Effect: Increases firearm attack power by 2.5% and enhances firearm handling proficiency.
John frowned. "Only a 2.5% boost? That's almost nothing." Still, the skill wasn't about raw power. He hoped the proficiency boost would make up for the lackluster attack increase.
Turning his attention to his Beretta 92F pistol, John examined its stats:
Quality: Gray (cannot be taken out of this world)
Type: Miscellaneous
Origin: Ash World, Raccoon City, Police Station, Logistics Room
Durability: 20/20
Attack Power: 10
Magazine Capacity: 15 rounds
Rate of Fire: 3 rounds per second
Requirements: None
John sighed. "An attack power of 10? This thing's practically a squirt gun." But given its gray-tier quality, his expectations weren't high. He speculated that a .45-caliber pistol might pack more of a punch than the 9mm rounds this gun used.
What he really wanted was something with more firepower, like a rifle or a submachine gun. Pistols were fine for standard zombies, but for evolved threats like lickers or hunters, they wouldn't be enough. Unfortunately, this was all he had for now.
As he studied the weapon, another line caught his eye: "Cannot be taken out of this world." John wondered if it meant the pistol was bound to the Ash World. That led him to another thought: How would he return to the main world?
John shrugged. "No point worrying about it now. I'm sure there's a way back. Besides, I've only just arrived. Plenty of time to figure it out."
For now, his focus shifted to clearing the lower levels of the building he was in. His plan was straightforward: clean out the three lower floors, then move to the upper levels if time allowed.
With limited storage compartments, John decided to bring his shoulder bag along. Inside, he packed a bottle of mineral water, an enemy radar, a small magic restoration potion, a room key, and two spare magazines.
The lower three floors contained thirteen zombies. The third floor alone had six, though John had already dealt with one—a police zombie next door. That left five, scattered across separate rooms. His strategy was simple: tackle one room at a time.