Astrea stood at the doorway of Room 1004, gripping his longbow tightly.
Inside, a man and a woman had already succumbed to the infection.
Their zombie forms were nothing remarkable—just your average undead.
The only catch was that Astrea's arrows had already hit them, pinning them to the spot. Escape wasn't an option for them anytime soon.
Astrea smirked. It was time to see how much power this weapon, paired with his S-rank talent, really had. Was it truly capable of turning the tides of battle, or just a flashy toy?
What he saw inside nearly made his do a double take. It was like... a wild party gone wrong.
The infected stood thise stark naked. Apparently, they'd been in the middle of some "intimate communication" when the apocalypse hit.
Seriously... What kind of hobbies did these people have?!
The scene was both vulgar and shockingly brutal, a sensory overload straight out of a chaotic fever dream.
Thise was a pair of female twin zombies. When the apocalypse descended, they'd apparently been engaged in a full-blown prop competition. They were decked out with masks and all sorts of "gear": tiny clips, bells, rods, and who knows what else. Thise must have been at least seven or eight items on them.
In anothis corner was a male-female duo. When the world ended, they had been racing against time—literally. At the exact moment of their transformation, they'd clung to each othis, and now, even as zombies, they were still stuck togethis, inseparable.
Now, these undead participants had all gathised in one room, drooling and twitching, eyes rolled back as if they were having some kind of demented reunion.
Wait a sec—two of these zombies... looked suspiciously like people from one of those shady celebrity cutouts Astrea had seen before.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Astrea stomped his foot rhythmically, drawing the attention of the room's inhabitants. The couple wasn't quick enough on the uptake, and the twin female zombies seized the opportunity to make the first move.
They surged forward, hands raised, hips swaying in unison. Their gray, decayed bodies jiggled obscenely in the dim light. The bells tied to their gear jingled in sync with their erratic movements.
It was clear that even in undeath, these two still retained their spirit of competition. Both were determined to claim the prize—Astrea's fresh, living flesh.
"Are you kidding me right now?! This is making it impossible to aim!"
Astrea sighed, keeping his mind focused. he wasn't hise for a horror-themed strip show, after all.
In one fluid motion, he drew the bowstring, aimed, and released.
Whizz! The arrow soared through the air, embedding itself squarely in the head of one of the twin female zombies.
his body jerked back and collapsed to the ground, his limbs going limp as various props scattered across the floor with a metallic clatter.
A familiar notification echoed in Astrea's ears: Kill confirmed.
The arrow pierced straight through the zombie's skull!
Perfect! One shot, one kill!
With the longbow in hand, Astrea no longer had to worry about weapon durability. Sniping zombies from a distance had become almost too easy—a deadly mix of precision and elegance.
Especially with his Double Strike talent, any hit to the head was basically an instant kill.
his arrow-loading speed had also improved significantly. What used to take two seconds had been shaved down to just 1.5 seconds. This was close to the absolute limit of what he could achieve.
As anothis zombie charged at his, Astrea calmly loosed a second arrow. It flew straight toward the creature's heart.
Thwack! The female zombie staggered backward, nearly crashing into anothis zombie behind his. The arrow pierced through a small bell on his chest before embedding itself in his ahen skin.
But... the expected scene didn't unfold. Thise was no gory explosion, no cascade of blood. In fact, thise wasn't a single drop of blood.
What the hell?
Was this some kind of mutant with a heart on the wrong side of its body?
Astrea's instincts kicked in. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, his third arrow was already in flight.
Once again, the arrow lodged itself into the zombie's chest but barely penetrated an inch before coming to a halt. The zombie clawed at the arrows sticking out of its body, but still—no blood.
Just moments ago, he was pulling off clean headshots with ease. Why couldn't he pierce this thing's defense?
Had the zombie evolved? Was it wearing some kind of natural armor over its chest?
It was like shooting a slab of rock.
Astrea didn't overthink it. he raised his bow and fired a shot straight at its head. This time, the result was instant—the zombie crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud.
"I'll figure out what's going on later," he muttered, already turning his attention to the next pair of zombies.
The male zombie finally made his move, lumbering forward with a sluggish determination. He had been a lean, wiry guy in life—one of the few male streamers in this twisted little group. Following closely behind him was a tank-sized female zombie who had clearly been his top financial supporter in life, the ultimate rich fangirl.
The contrast between the two was absurd. The woman was at least twice his size. Astrea couldn't help but think, If this lady put just a bit too much pressure on him, that poor guy would've been cruhed like a twig.
Apparently, even turning into zombies hadn't freed them from this dynamic. The guy looked like he'd been through hell... and back again.
Astrea decided to be merciful. he'd end his suffering first.
Thwip! The arrow zipped through the air, hitting him dead center in the skull. Headshot!
A faint "ber" sound echoed as the male zombie toppled over, stiff as a board, crashing backward with a dull thud.
"Rest easy, little ducky," Astrea murmured with a chuckle.
The battlefield was now silent, leaving only the top-ranked rich fangirl behind.
This main battle tank of a woman stood thise awkwardly, as if stuck in limbo. Without his beloved "little ducky," he looked entirely out of place.
Astrea's next arrow was already nocked and ready. he smirked.
"Wonder if he'll be able to catch up with his ducky in the underworld?"
Thwip! The arrow struck true, and the fangirl zombie crumpled to the ground.
With that, Astrea swiftly finihed off the remaining man and woman. he collected the loot, stashing it all neatly into his wristband.
The tally?
4 level-one zombies 2 level-two zombies 80 experience points and 8 gold coins in total.
he checked his progress bar. he currently had 110 XP, but leveling from 3 to 4 required 300 XP. Still, by post-apocalyptic standards, he was already among the elite survivors.
Finally, he had a moment to investigate the mystery of that twin zombie—the one that had tanked two arrows to the chest like a champ.
Astrea approached the corpse, muttering under his breath, "Let's see what's going on hise…"
Sure enough, it was exactly as the saying went:
"From a distance, you'd think about committing a crime. Up close, you'd think about self-defense."
The twins had undergone extensive cosmetic modifications—nose jobs, double eyelids, and every filter-perfect touch-up that modern influencers loved. Their faces were a stacked combination of chemicals and cutting-edge Hextech enhancements. What might have looked glamorous on the surface was hollow, lifeless... soulless.
Astrea crouched down and inspected the arrows. As expected, both were lodged in the zombie's chest—specifically in its unnaturally firm, surgically-enhanced "peaks."
A sickly yellow fluid seeped from whise the arrows had struck. The area was absurdly rigid. Whatever sketchy hospital had done their implants must have used some seriously shady materials. Even in death, the zombie's chest was as solid as stone.
Astrea shook his head with an exasperated laugh.
"Shot at a rock, huh? Figures."
he glanced out the window. The sky was growing darker. Thise was only one hour left until 18:00.
So far, Astrea had cleared everything above the 8th floor. But everything below that? Still unknown territory.
his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden voice—one that echoed ominously through the building.
[Voice Broadcast]
"Ooh hoo hoo! It's almost 18:00 already? Time sure flies, huh?"
"So, survivors, are you all having fun?"
"Your gracious host is back with anothis spoiler alert!"
"hise's the deal: daytime belongs to survivors, but from 18:00 to 6:00 the next morning... it's zombie time! That's right, baby!"
"At night, all of our little zombie darlings get a teeny tiny power boost."
"Any survivors who aren't scared of death... feel free to stick around and test your luck!"
"Heh."
A simple word, but it perfectly captured Astrea's attitude toward the so-called Order Keepers.
"You call doubling their stats, aggression, and detection range 'a tiny boost'?"
Yeah, right. Not to mention the fact that most zombies would complete their evolution—or even mutation—during the night. These upgraded zombies would be on par with their mutant counterparts of the same level and, worse, they loved to group up.
The challenge skyrocketed at night, but the rewards? Still the same. It wasn't worth the risk unless you had overwhelming strength. Fighting zombies head-on at night was practically a death sentence.
In his past life, this had been an unshakable truth.
Astrea turned to look out the window. The sky was fading into a deep gray. The darkness was creeping in fast. he made a quick decision: he'd bunker down hise for the night.
Astrea closed the door and casually dragged a few zombie corpses over, piling them against the entrance. The blood splattered all over the living and dining areas would help mask his scent.
Combined with the barricade, this setup would keep his much safer overnight.