Looting wasn't some grand event. There weren't hidden dungeons here, and what could I really expect to find in this abandoned apartment complex where people had turned into mindless zombies?
Still, there had to be food, maybe clothes—anything to make life easier.
"Oh, and a real weapon wouldn't hurt."
The mop handle in my grip and the kitchen knife hovering beside me hardly counted. At the very least, I could raid some kitchens for better knives.
I could buy essentials like food, clothes, and shelter from the Points Shop, but that felt… wasteful. Levelling up my skill had already cost so many points, just thinking about it made my head spin.
This was a fifteen-story building with four apartments per floor. I planned to search each one, top to bottom.
Reaching the 15th floor, I paused at the innermost apartment.
Room 1504.
There are many ways to open a door—brute force, lockpicking—but the noise of a broken door wasn't worth the risk. This was why picking telekinesis as a skill had been a genius move; its versatility far outweighed raw power.
Placing my hand on the doorknob, I channelled a small amount of mana. I felt the inner mechanism respond under my telekinetic grip, and with a soft click, the door opened. Slipping inside, I closed it quietly behind me.
"Wow, what a mess…"
Shoes scattered near the entrance; clothes flung across the living room. It looked like they'd left in a hurry.
I tapped the mop handle against the wall, calling out. "Hello? Anyone here?"
Silence.
Didn't look like there'd be any surprise ambushes.
"Alright then, pardon the intrusion."
I kept tapping the mop as I moved to the centre of the room, just to be safe.
A large wedding photo sat propped up in the living room—a young couple, smiling. The woman's face caught my eye immediately. Pure, gentle, and somehow memorable.
"With a face like that, I'd have remembered her…" Then again, when would a guy like me, always focused on the ground, get a chance to notice anyone's face?
Still, she wasn't here. So both of them probably had run off somewhere. The room felt lifeless, as if it had been abandoned long ago.
What happened in the days I'd missed…?
Opening the fridge, I was hit with a putrid stench—either the power was out, or the food had rotted. I quickly shut it and waved a hand to clear the air.
"Ugh, what died in there…"
I checked the kitchen cabinets. No ramen, no dried goods, not even a bottle of water. No signs of apocalypse staples.
"Looks like they thought ahead."
Despite leaving in a rush, they'd cleared out every scrap of food. It was strange, really. Who would take the time to grab every last bit of food, even while zombies filled the streets?
Why would they do that?
"…A shelter." Okay, let's forget about htis now and focus on looting.
I moved on to the next apartment, Unit 1503, using the same technique to crack open the door. As I cleared each apartment, I scoured kitchens and closets for food and supplies: cans of Spam, ramen, flashlights—anything that might help.
Oddly, most apartments were chaotic, as if people had left in a panic, abandoning half their belongings. Maybe a rescue had come through here in Liverpool, and they'd evacuated everyone quickly.
'But why hadn't anyone woken me? Why leave me behind?'
I shook off the question. Being left behind had actually played to my advantage. Starting in a shelter might've kept me from progressing this much. Plus, I'd have had to follow orders.
"Ooh, beef!"
Not every place had been thoroughly ransacked. Some had cans of canned corned beef or untouched Pot Noodles, which I stashed greedily in my inventory. The fuller it got, the more secure I felt.
As I was searching, a faint noise reached me.
-GRR….kreee
I pressed my ear against the door to Unit 501, where I'd been about to search.
—Kreee...
Zombie.
My mana was mostly restored, and I held a mop handle in one hand, with a kitchen knife hovering telekinetically above my head. A quick mental count and, at worst, there'd be four zombies in there. But by the sound of it… it seemed like just one.
Click.
I nudged the door open with telekinesis and kicked the shoe cabinet hard.
Crash.
"FBI! OPEN UP!" I yelled for good measure, my voice echoing through the apartment.
I'd always wanted to say that.
"Kreeeeek!"
A piercing shriek answered, followed by frantic banging. The zombie sounded like it was trapped.
But then… a whisper.
"For God so loved the world… He gave… salvation…"
The zombie noises faltered, and I froze. The voice wasn't a zombie's—it was someone speaking. A person, alive.
I stepped further in, edging toward the living room, where a faint voice rose above the distant wailing.
"The Holy Spirit… gave His only begotten… to bring judgment…"
A woman was kneeling in the living room, her frail body silhouetted against the faint daylight filtering through a gap in the blackout curtains. Her hands clasped a rosary, and her lips moved in fervent prayer.
I reached out telekinetically and pulled her gently forward, getting a better look.
She was painfully thin, her face gaunt from starvation.
"For God so loved the world, He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life…"
She spoke with such intensity that I almost forgot myself, staring.
God? Salvation?
"A… cult?" I mumbled.
Her eyes shot up to meet mine, gleaming with something fervent, something unhinged. "Are you from the sanctuary?"
Her voice was both desperate and hopeful, like she'd finally found salvation.
"...What?" was all I could manage.
Her grip on the rosary tightened, the prayer book she held worn from years of use.
Eyes bright with devotion, she looked at me, waiting. Her emaciated face bore an expression of pure, unwavering belief.
I felt a chill snake down my spine.
Behind her, from the small room she'd blocked off, came the continued scratching and wails of trapped zombies.
Kreeeek! Bang, bang!
A zombie's arm burst through the cracked door, flailing in a grotesque struggle. The woman in front of me, oblivious to the danger, clutched her prayer book and waited for my response.
"…What if I really came from the place you're waiting for?" I asked, humoring her delusion.
"You did?" Her face lit up. "Oh, Heaven has heard my prayer!"
She pressed her book to her chest, her words spilling out like a river breaking its banks.
"Let's pray together… so my daughter's sin may be forgiven. So she can return to being human…"
"…What sin?"
She looked at me, eyes wide with fervor. "Disbelief! I knew something like this would happen! The leader was right… it's the greatest sin. But as her mother, I must pray for her forgiveness."
The words rattled me. My hold on her faltered as I gazed at the room, now under siege. Her daughter's undead arm clawed through the gap in the door, splintering wood with each strike.
This was madness.
I used telekinesis to fling open the blackout curtains, letting sunlight flood in. The woman didn't even flinch as the brightness exposed her shrine—a twisted collection of crucifixes, photos, and scriptures.
"Do you know what's happening outside right now?" I demanded. "Or to your daughter?" She only smiled. "Of course, that's why we must pray even harder."
"Your daughter can't go back to being human, you know that, right?"
She simply repeated, "That's why we must pray even harder."
I laughed bitterly, mocking her words back at her. "Pray harder… sure."
The zombie screeched as if in protest, driving her closer to hysteria.
I focused on the system screen in front of me, searching for a solution.
[Zombie Cure: 1000 points. Would you like to use a free store voucher?]
"…Is this real?" she whispered.
"Of course. Why would I lie?" I dangled the promise in front of her. "I can cure her… but only if you believe in me. Curse that god of yours. Call him a fraud."
She hesitated, eyes darting to the prayer book in her hands. Finally, she seemed to snap. "Prove it! Show me proof you can save her!"
I laughed darkly. "Proof? You've been praying without any proof at all."
With a thought, I ripped the prayer book from her grip and tore it in half. She wailed in horror.
"You devil! Get out!" she shrieked as her daughter, now free, tore through the barricade and tackled her to the ground. Still, the woman kept screaming at me, her voice rising even as the zombie sank teeth into her flesh.
I watched in fascination, unable to resist the scene. She should be cursing her god—but instead, she clung to that faith, convinced salvation was just a prayer away.
I felt a strange, twisted thrill as I watched her struggle. I wanted her—not her emaciated, rotting body, but her fanaticism. That utter devotion, even in the face of annihilation.
As her daughter feasted on her, the woman still muttered curses at me, "Demon… devil…"
I moved closer, relishing the moment. "Where's your god now?" I asked. She only glared, whispering her condemnation with the last breaths in her lungs.
The zombie turned toward me next, her hunger undiminished. I met her gaze, my telekinesis holding her back, and smirked.
She charged at me, unfed for days, with a disturbing intensity.
The more she struggled against my telekinetic grip, the more my arm shook.
"Damn, what a thrill. No wonder old guys go nuts for fishing."
"Screeeech!"
"What? Do you remember me? You're reacting differently than other zombies."
As I stared into her eyes, twisting herself wildly to consume me, I finally understood what that strange feeling I had earlier was.
…Her eyes had never changed.
From the first moment, zombies' eyes had all shown one thing.
Hunger. An insatiable hunger for the human in front of them.
That was the most significant difference between humans and zombies.
That was it.
That unyielding fanaticism—a mad desire for devotion—was exactly what I craved.
Szzzt—
The woman's head split off just like her daughter's, and she slumped down.
[The system responds to your desire!]
[A new profession is available: Cult Leader]
A vision flashed before me—a sanctuary, my sanctuary, where people would bow, pledging their lives in exchange for safety. I would be their salvation.
I accepted, feeling a surge of warmth pulse through my veins.
[Misguided faith takes root in your body.]
From here on, there would be no mistakes. A kingdom built on slavation and obedience, where I reigned as the ultimate protector and judge.
I would give them a reason to believe—by giving them someone to obey.