Chương 32: Or Lighter Than a Feather

"Hell yeah!" Seeing the leader turn back to face the enemy, Vince couldn't help but pound his fist against the windowsill in excitement. Even for an ordinary person, two regular zombies weren't an insurmountable threat. Let alone for four fully grown, armed men. Regular zombies might possess uninhibited strength, but their bone density and structural integrity weren't vastly superior to a human's.

As long as the four of them coordinated properly—one person kiting a zombie while the other three focused down the second—scoring a flawless, zero-damage headshot kill wouldn't be difficult at all! Seeing their leader turn back, two of the others skidded to a halt. One of them moved to drop his heavy bags, but another quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. No words were exchanged between them, only a frantic meeting of eyes.

As if coming to a silent, unanimous decision, they turned, scooped up the bags the leader had just dropped, and bolted toward the neighborhood fence! The straggler at the very back of the pack saw the leader turning back to save him and was overjoyed. Sprinting desperately, he blew right past the leader without a single microsecond of hesitation!

"This... how could they do that?!" Claire slammed her binoculars down on the windowsill, her voice trembling with anger. Still harboring a tiny sliver of hope, she furrowed her brows, picked them back up, and continued watching.

"Sigh..." Despite the brief twist, the plot had returned to its expected, cynical trajectory. Vince didn't have much to say. He simply sighed and muttered softly to Claire, "Careful. You break those, and I'm docking your rations." Hearing this, Claire didn't say a word. She just aggressively nudged Vince with her shoulder, raised the binoculars, and watched the unfolding tragedy with bated breath.

The moment the straggler brushed past him, the leader swung his heavy steel pipe like a baseball bat, aiming squarely for the head of the closest zombie! CRACK! The charging zombie took the heavy, devastating blow directly to the face. The sheer kinetic force flipped it backward, and it crashed heavily onto the asphalt! That single, brutal strike had completely caved in its cheekbone! [186/300]! A crushing blow to the head combined with the fall damage had knocked off a massive 114 HP!

"Tsk! Ah, dammit!" Vince clicked his tongue in intense frustration.

"Thrust, you idiot! Stab it!" If he had used a thrusting motion and driven the pipe straight through its eye socket, that would have been an instant kill! Feeling immense pity for the wasted opportunity, Vince had subconsciously overlooked the uniqueness of his own professional background. Not everyone possessed a veterinarian's intimate understanding of anatomy, and certainly not everyone could execute a perfectly aimed precision strike while running for their lives.

Seeing that a single swing had floored a zombie, the leader was visibly hyped! He waved his hand behind him, signaling his teammates to finish off the downed zombie while he moved to intercept the second one. But when he turned his head... The other three had almost reached the perimeter fence! The man's eyes widened, practically splitting with rage and absolute disbelief! Stunned, he subconsciously froze, staring blankly at the retreating backs of his supposed comrades!

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Because the car alarms were still blaring, Vince couldn't hear if the man screamed or cursed. But it wasn't hard to imagine the utter despair he felt. Turning around, expecting to fight shoulder-to-shoulder with his brothers, only to realize they had abandoned him without a second thought. Even the man he had just risked his life to save had discarded him without hesitation.

"..." Even Claire fell completely silent. She just mindlessly squeezed Vince's arm. And this was exactly why Vince felt so frustrated by that first, suboptimal attack. This man clearly had some combat experience against zombies—but not enough. If he had used a thrust to instantly execute the first one, leaving him in a one-on-one situation, he might have actually survived... But reality doesn't entertain 'what ifs'.

Perhaps he was screaming curses at the top of his lungs, or perhaps shock had rendered him completely mute. It didn't matter anymore. The second zombie, lagging only slightly behind the first, lunged forward and sank its rotting teeth directly into his neck! A geyser of arterial blood erupted into the air like a dark fountain, raining down upon the zombie he had just knocked over. Stimulated by the scent of fresh, hot blood, the downed zombie scrambled back to its feet and joined the gruesome feast...

Vince didn't lower his binoculars until the man's Health Bar hit zero. Right up until his final breath, the man never swung his steel pipe again. He simply reached out with his free hand, grasping desperately at the empty air, reaching toward the fading silhouettes of the men running away. Perhaps, even as consciousness slipped away, he still couldn't comprehend it. Why would the comrades who swore to fight by his side abandon him at the critical moment?

Why did they choose to flee when they clearly could have won?! Why?! We had the advantage! Perhaps carrying that silent, agonizing scream in his heart, he plunged into the eternal dark. Claire sat back heavily against the sofa cushions. She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words. She knew the bitter taste of betrayal. She had personally experienced the absolute selfishness of human nature, so she wasn't naive enough to ask why it happened.

But witnessing it unfold with her own eyes still left a heavy, suffocating weight in her chest. Death comes for us all. For some, it is as weighty as a mountain; for others, it is lighter than a feather. She just felt it wasn't worth it. For a man like that to die for teammates like them...

"Vince..." She looked at Vince, staring at the man she had placed her trust in. Yet, the question lingered on her tongue, unable to be voiced. Because she knew that the moment words of doubt were spoken, they would carve a deep, unbridgeable chasm between them.

"I definitely wouldn't leave you behind to die like that... I'm not an idiot. I just wouldn't bring you outside with me in the first place." Seeing her hesitant, conflicted expression, Vince bluntly answered the unasked question for her. Though he also felt a bitter tang in his mouth, Vince wasn't nearly as sentimental as Claire. Ultimately, those four men didn't all make it back. And the one who died was ironically the one least adapted to the cruel logic of this new world. Survival of the fittest.

The despicable secured their food, Vince gathered his combat data, and the one unfit for this reality made his exit. Everyone had a bright future ahead...

"Still a noob, though. If he had just changed his attack angle on that first strike, he might have actually won..." Watching this cruel, bloody play unfold had at least confirmed one thing: there were definitely other living people in the complex. Well, at least three of them. Other people's business had nothing to do with me, as long as they didn't cross my path.

"Let's eat, let's eat." Vince waved Claire over to the table. In his eyes, nothing was more important than regenerating HP. Claire's health had climbed back up to [81/100]. Vince's had recovered to [171/190]. Another good night's sleep and he'd be fully topped off. Coincidentally, watching that group's botched operation had given Vince a spark of inspiration. He now had a rough idea of how to disperse the horde swarming below his balcony.

Regardless of what others did—whether there were 100 survivors or 1, 000 survivors hiding in the complex—it didn't concern him. Maintaining his daily life and steadily increasing his power was the only true path forward.... After dinner, with his thoughts cleared, Vince began inspecting his weapons. It was just a pity that this old residential building lacked anything that could truly be called a proper weapon... No fire axes, no heavy crowbars. Nothing.

His makeshift curtain-rod spear had seen heavy use during the brutal fight with the Pale Banshee. Between the sweeping strikes, the violent thrusts, and the desperate tug-of-war with its snake-like arm, the steel shaft had sustained several dents and a slight bend. This was the fatal flaw of hollow tubular steel. When structurally intact, its radial load-bearing capacity was incredibly high. But the moment a dent appeared, the structural integrity was permanently compromised.

If it was subjected to heavy force again, it would easily buckle and fold at the dent. Having already experienced the sheer terror of his bone-cleaver snapping mid-fight, Vince absolutely refused to risk his spear breaking in half. Vince's requirements for his next weapon were incredibly simple. There were only two standards: Sturdy enough! And heavy enough!