Ali exited the makeshift toilet floor and proceeded upward. The next floor he entered had been repurposed entirely into some sort of dormitory, with every room converted into a crude bedroom. Scavenged materials, ranging from torn mattresses to bundled fabrics, were used to fashion makeshift beds. As Ali moved methodically through each room, he found them all deserted. Though empty of occupants, the rooms held various objects looted by the foot soldiers— personal treasures they had squirrelled away for themselves. Signs of petty hoarding were everywhere: trinkets, small weapons, ration scraps, and stolen luxuries from a world long gone.
In one of the bedrooms, hidden beneath a dusty desk, Ali found an old, tattered journal. He flipped through its worn pages, his eyes scanning the crude handwriting. 'The surrounding buildings are getting even more dangerous with the horde surrounding us day and night.. Ali read aloud the last entry, the words conveying a sense of growing paranoia. The journal had belonged to one of the gang's foot soldiers, a man who clearly lived in constant fear.
Ali closed the journal with a quiet sigh, letting it fall back to the ground where it had been stashed. But as he moved, his senses sharpened. Footsteps echoed from the stairwell.
Quickly and silently, Ali closed the door to the room and positioned himself by the edge of the frame, listening intently. He waited, perfectly still, as the person made their way onto the floor and walked right past the room Ali occupied.
Only when the intruder's steps had passed did Ali slowly ease the door open, peeking out to observe the unexpected visitor.
The man was middle-aged, dressed in improvised armour most likely fashioned to protect him from zombie bites. A length of teal pipe hung from his waist alongside a small pocket knife strapped to his belt. Clearly one of the soldiers returning for rest.
The man trudged toward his room, oblivious to the fact that death itself was creeping behind him.
Ali moved like a shadow, effortlessly tailing the soldier. How could an ordinary man, especially in this hellish world, possibly detect the presence of a grandmaster assassin? He couldn't. The man reached for his door, ready to enter his room and rest, but the moment his hand touched the knob, a sudden, crushing pressure wrapped around his throat.
The man's heartbeat spiked in sheer terror.
"UGH_"
Before he could even make a sound, Ali's giant hand tightened, squeezing until the man's Adam's apple and trachea were ripped from his throat in one brutal motion.
Blood spattered the door and walls as Ali slammed the soldier's body against the entrance to his own bedroom. The man convulsed violently, his body shaking uncontrollably as blood fountained from the gaping hole where his throat once was.
Ali maintained his grip on the back of the dying soldier, waiting patiently. He counted in his head, his gaze cold and emotionless.
'1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10!
Suddenly, the lifeless body twitched, and a low moan escaped the man's bloody lips despite the gory mess of his throat. His arms jerked, and his eyes, now glazed over in a dull, undead haze, began to flutter open. He had turned into a zombie, just as Ali had anticipated.
Without hesitation, Ali grabbed the collar of the undead soldier's shirt, pulling the zombie's head backward. With a swift and calculated motion, Ali smashed the zombie's skull against the wall, the force of the blow cracking the skull open.
The soldier's brain matter splattered, the zombie collapsing lifelessly to the floor once again, this time for good.
BANG
The sound of the skull shattering was brief, the room falling silent once more. Ali released the limp body, allowing it to crumple to the ground in a pool of its own blood. The once-soldier had died in his own bedroom, a twisted irony of sorts.
Ali, however, was unmoved. His focus shifted entirely to the results of his morbid experiment. 'Ten seconds, Ali thought, analysing the speed of the transformation. 'That's faster than I expected. The zombie virus must be dormant inside every human and strong enough to take over the body's functions quickly!
It was useful information, even if the means to obtain it were gruesome.
Satisfied with his findings, Ali left the blood-soaked room behind and made his way up the stairs. The next floor was similar to the previous—another floor filled with bedrooms for soldiers, and yet, like the others, it was deserted.
Ali passed through it quickly, continuing his ascent until he reached the fifteenth floor. It was here that things changed. For the first time, Ali began to hear faint noises coming from above. It wasn't from this floor, but from the one directly overhead.
The fifteenth floor itself was identical to the two below-more soldier's quarters, more rooms designed for rest and sleep. Yet, from above, Ali could hear the unmistakable sound of women shouting.
'A group of people are above me', Ali thought as he looked up at the ceiling from the central room of the fifteenth floor, his attention now entirely focused on the commotion upstairs.
Making sure the fifteenth floor was completely empty, Ali moved quietly to the stairwell and ascended further. He reached the sixteenth floor and carefully opened the door, peeking inside. His eyes narrowed at what he saw.
The walls that had once divided the rooms had been torn down, leaving the floor wide open. Only a few steel beams remained, the rest of the materials likely repurposed for the barricades Ali had encountered earlier on the tenth floor.
But it wasn't the architecture that caught Ali's attention. His gaze quickly shifted to the source of the noise. The floor had been transformed into a prison of sorts, with cages replacing rooms. Most of the cages were empty, save for one. Inside it were several women, ranging in age from young to middle-aged, all of them huddled together in fear and despair.
Opposite the cage, a soldier was forcing himself onto a young woman, no more than her early twenties. She was sobbing uncontrollably, her cries of agony and terror echoing throughout the floor. The other women in the cage watched helplessly, most of them crying, others shouting in anger. One woman in particular clung to the bars of the cage, her knuckles white with fury.
"LET HER GO, YOU BASTARD!"
"STOP IT!"
"DON'T YOU DARE, YOU FILTHY ANIMAL!"
The woman shouting had dirty blonde hair, her face strikingly beautiful despite the scar that ran down her right cheek, cutting through her lip. Her fury was palpable, her voice raw with emotion.
The soldier paid no heed to the woman's protests. A sick grin spread across his bearded face as he gleefully stripped the young girl, tearing her clothes with savage delight. He ripped off her bra, exposing her, as the girl's cries grew louder. 'Finally', the soldier thought, his mind clouded with lust. 'With all the others outside, I get first dibs. Better take advantage before they're too used...'
Lost in his perverted fantasies, the man failed to notice the sudden, eerie silence that had overtaken the floor. His pleasure-soaked grin faltered only when a massive shadow loomed over him.
The bearded man turned his head just slightly but didn't even have time to scream. A six-foot-eight monster of a man stood behind him, wielding a red longsword that looked like it had been forged in the depths of hell itself. The grotesque, muscular appearance of the weapon sent a chill through the air.
The soldier's eyes widened in horror as he fumbled to reach for the machete on the ground beside him, but his hand barely moved before a crimson blur flashed before his eyes. The next thing he knew, his arm was no longer attached to his body. It lay severed on the floor, blood gushing from the stump.
АНННННННННННННННН!
The soldier's scream pierced the air as he clutched at his bleeding shoulder, but Ali wasn't finished. With another quick slash, the second arm fell, joining the first on the cold floor.
The man was left armless, his mind reeling as he stared frantically at the two stumps where his arms had once been, unable to comprehend his sudden dismemberment.
Without a word, Ali grabbed the mutilated soldier by the neck, dragging him effortlessly across the floor toward the cage. He slammed the man against the bars, causing the terrified women inside to shrink back, pressing themselves as far from the bars as they could.
Ali held the soldier up by his jaw, his icy eyes boring into the man's terrified gaze.
"You ever heard of a blood flower?" Ali asked, his voice cold and emotionless, his expression unreadable.
With a terrifying show of strength, Ali flipped the massive longsword in his hand, holding it by the blunt edge. The razor-sharp tip hovered dangerously close to the soldier's face.
The women inside the cage watched in horror as Ali began to carve into the man's skin, slowly and methodically peeling away the flesh from his face. The soldier's screams filled the room, but there was no escape. Ali's hands moved with a precision that was almost artistic, flaying the man's face until it resembled a grotesque, bloody flower.
Once the "art" was complete, Ali released the soldier, letting his mutilated body crumple to the floor. The soldier's face, or what remained of it, stared up at the horrified women inside the cage.
Even the devilishly handsome figure who had saved them was, in many ways, more terrifying than the soldier who had been violating one of them moments earlier.
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