"Damn it! Doesn't anyone have a ranged weapon?!"
The reminder from someone in the crowd suddenly snapped everyone back to their senses. Although these zombies attacked with ferocious intensity, they could only strike when they got close.
Those with weapons quickly pulled them out. Some grabbed homemade bows and arrows, others had crude crossbows, and a few even took out firearms. However, due to the loud noise firearms would produce, which could attract a swarm of zombies from deeper within the street, they were not used immediately.
Thwack—
A muffled sound was heard as someone hastily released their bowstring, launching an arrow instantly.
The sharp metal arrowhead whistled through the air, aiming for the crippled zombie crouched over the corpse.
Thunk—
However, the archer's aim was poor, and the quality of the homemade bow wasn't much better. The arrow landed ten meters away from the target, quivering in the ground.
"You idiot! Let me do it!"
A lean man stepped forward, snatched the bow, and drew the string taut. His eyes suddenly sharpened, his pupils faintly showing a crosshair.
This man was a first-rank Baptized warrior, and an apocalyptic hunter with enhanced vision!
Swish!
Despite his skill, his first shot also missed the zombie, landing about eight meters away and eliciting groans from the onlookers.
Unfazed, he smirked and adjusted the tension of the bowstring before taking aim once more.
Swish—
Thud!
This time, the hunter's recalibrated shot hit its mark, burying the arrow squarely in the forehead of the zombie, who had been feasting on fresh flesh.
The zombie, caught off guard by the powerful arrow, staggered as greenish blood sprayed from the center of its forehead, and it fell backward, motionless on the ground.
Was the first zombie really taken down just like that?
Howl!!
No, it wasn't. The zombie suddenly sat up, its decaying mouth, teeming with bacteria, opened wide as it emitted a bone-chilling shriek at the group.
The arrow still quivered in its forehead.
The eerie, blood-curdling scream instinctively sent shivers down everyone's spines. Some even began to retreat, overwhelmed by primal fear.
Standing at the back of the crowd, Summer Cold felt a similar unease hearing that sound. He had narrowly escaped death at the hands of these monstrous creatures multiple times before. Their swift and lethal attack patterns were etched into his memory.
The zombie, now distracted from its meal, locked onto the "fresh" humans ahead. With alarming speed, it sprang forward on all fours, like a wild beast, toward the large group.
Its severely twisted leg, which had been bent nearly 360 degrees, did nothing to hinder its movement. As it ran, a white bone could be seen piercing through the skin.
With this grotesque, yet rapid, quadrupedal movement, it charged at the crowd like an enraged beast.
The hastily assembled team was already starting to fall apart. Many of the unarmed refugees instinctively wanted to flee. What was the point of securing a ticket if you didn't live to use it?
"Run? With so many of us, you're scared of one corpse?! Shoot it!"
The strongest member of the group, an apocalyptic warrior, barked out in his deep voice, snapping some of the braver refugees back to their senses. They quickly raised their weapons and began to fire wildly at the zombie.
Though their aim was mostly poor, there were so many arrows that some of them inevitably struck the target.
As the ferocious zombie closed in on the group, now only halfway away, it was already riddled with arrows, and its speed was visibly slowing. There was strength in numbers after all.
Howl!!
Finally, under the apocalyptic hunter's precise shots, multiple arrows struck the zombie, blowing off half of its head, revealing the sickening greenish brain matter.
"It's over, heh."
The hunter grinned wickedly, pulling the bowstring back one last time and releasing.
Thwack—
With a crisp sound, the final arrow pierced the zombie's exposed brain, dislodging a gray crystal inside. It rolled on the ground, stopping in a puddle of thick green blood.
As the stone fell out, the once ferocious and deadly zombie instantly collapsed to the ground, only twitching slightly from nerve reflex. Its crimson eyes gradually dimmed.
The zombie was dead.
Silence fell over the crowd. Each person, harboring their own selfish thoughts, stared greedily at the gray crystal lying in the blood—a ticket to a new life.
But there was only one gray crystal, a single ticket, and the makeshift group consisted of twenty to thirty people.
The atmosphere grew tense. Everyone wanted it, but everyone also understood the consequences of making the first move.
If they delayed any longer, the pungent smell of blood on the street would attract a horde of zombies from deeper within. If that happened, no one would get anything.
"It was my bait that brought it out! So this belongs to me!"
The burly apocalyptic warrior suddenly stepped forward, his fierce demeanor making it clear that anyone who opposed him would be crushed.
After staking his claim, he moved to retrieve the "Pandora's" stone.
"What makes you think it's yours?! I also hit the zombie with my arrows!"
"Yeah! And mine too!"
...
No matter the era or place, where there's oppression, there's resistance. No one in this ragtag group owed anyone anything.
Hearing the angry shouts behind him, the apocalyptic warrior suddenly spun around. With his large, rough hand, he grabbed the loudest complainer by the head.
Before the refugee could react, the warrior tightened his grip and smashed his fist into the man's stunned face.
Crack—
The warrior's fist nearly sank into the refugee's face, leaving a gruesome sight.
The sudden burst of violence silenced the crowd once again. No one dared to step forward anymore.
"Filthy cowards! Do you really think you're somebody? Let's see who dares to make a sound!"
The warrior growled as he pulled his bloodied fist free, licking the blood and brain matter off it. His savage display only made the others more fearful.
With that, the warrior slung the corpse over his shoulder and walked toward the gray crystal, wary of a sneak attack from behind.
At the very back of the group, Summer Cold, who had been quietly observing the scene, suddenly felt his pupils contract. The fine hairs on his skin stood on end, as thin tendrils of warning bristled over his body.
The Blacklight Virus's danger sense had been triggered!