Keith raised his bow, angling it at forty-five degrees. After a steady breath, he released a barrage of energy arrows that rained down on the approaching horde, striking several zombies at once.
anwhile, his grandmother was tending to the elderly and children, coaxing and calming them. Fortunately, her awakened ability allowed her to ease their panic, and with her help, many regained their composure and joined the fight against the incoming wave.
"Don’t stop, keep attacking!" Keith shouted, already readying himself for another strike. Drawing back the bowstring, he gathered his strength, channeling energy into the weapon. With each pull, the attack charged, preparing to unleash yet another storm of arrows.
Fred pulled the trigger, releasing a single bullet charged with spiritual energy. The shot detonated like an RPG, obliterating a dozen tightly clustered zombies in a thunderous explosion.
He was careful to aim only at groups, making the most of each round without wasting its devastating power. The blast reduced those caught in its radius to nothing more than shredded flesh and shattered bone.
The sight was so grueso that many survivors from the shelter gagged and vomited, though after a mont to recover, they forced themselves back into the fight. In contrast, Vulture’s subordinates didn’t so much as flinch, their eyes fixed forward as they unleashed relentless barrages.
Only the newcors—fresh to the frontlines—showed weakness. They gagged a few tis, their eyes reddened from both the stench and the strain, but even so, they gritted their teeth and kept firing.
Sparrow, who had yet to join the fight, kept his sharp gaze fixed on the horde, searching for that one figure. He dared not reveal his presence to the mutated zombie—not yet. If it sensed him and chose to hide, their chances of finding and defeating it would shrink drastically, even if they brought Kisha and Duke into the battle.
Though every instinct urged him to leap in and support Vulture and the others, Sparrow held back. He knew every bit of strength counted now, yet the numbers were overwhelming.
Zombies continued to pour in as if conjured from thin air. Even Sparrow, with his keen eyes, hadn’t noticed their approach until it was too late.
That left him with only one conclusion: these creatures had been lying in wait, concealed in underground garages and basents, released into the open at the command of the mutated zombie.
Since he and his people hadn’t checked each building when they first arrived, they completely overlooked the possibility of zombies hiding inside. In truth, he had missed them all.
From the very beginning, the mutated zombie had already cast its net across Maple Leaf Town, ensuring that none of its prey would be able to escape.
"Fuck! I still can’t get a glimpse of that mutated zombie!" Sparrow muttered under his breath. He shifted his position again, careful not to stay in one spot for too long. He couldn’t afford to miss any possible hiding place near the shelter, and more importantly, he feared that while he was stalking the creature, it might have already noticed him.
If that were the case, it could strike at him when he least expected it. As a sniper, he knew better than anyone that staying still too long invited death; constant movent was the only way to keep his position from being exposed and countered.
"Not here either!" he hissed, gritting his teeth as he activated his ’Hawk Eyesight’ and scanned the dense swarm below.
Then, for the briefest mont, sothing flickered in his vision, a shadowy figure darting swiftly between the zombies. They parted for it so subtly that it would have gone unnoticed by anyone not watching closely. Sparrow narrowed his eyes, focusing as he tracked the shifting mass of the horde.
But just as quickly as he spotted it, the figure vanished, skittering through the horde with the speed of a cockroach on four limbs. The only reason Sparrow had caught even a glimpse was the glint of its black, scaly hide.
Clearly, the mutated zombie knew how to stay hidden, never lingering in one place long enough to be tracked.
"Damn it... this is harder than it should be," Sparrow muttered, reaching for his radio."Vulture, over..."
Sparrow heard the crackle of the radio, but no reply ca. Turning his gaze back toward the shelter, he spotted Vulture in the thick of the battle, wreaking havoc with his massive ’Blast Hamr’.
With a powerful swing, Vulture crushed through the advancing horde, then vaulted into the air and brought the weapon down like a falling cot. The impact shattered the asphalt, leaving a small crater in its wake.
But Vulture didn’t stop there. Using the hamr’s imnse weight as montum, he spun like a raging top, smashing apart any zombie that dared draw near. He was far too consud by the fight to even notice his radio.
Watching this, Sparrow clenched his teeth. He couldn’t tell if Vulture had already managed to contact their Young Madam and Master or not.
Sparrow fell into deep contemplation, torn between stepping out to reach Vulture or remaining hidden to continue his surveillance. If he revealed himself now just to deliver a warning, the mutated zombie would almost certainly sense his presence, and worse, mark him.
If that happened, he would lose the chance to stay concealed and keep tracking it. The creature might even retreat into hiding, refusing to erge again until everyone else was wiped out.
Now Sparrow found himself faced with a difficult choice.
From his vantage point, Sparrow continued to observe the battlefield. His people were doing well, holding the zombies at bay and preventing them from getting too close to the shelter.
Yet a nagging feeling gnawed at him and made him feel like the mutated zombie was holding back. To Sparrow, it seed clear: this wasn’t a full assault. It was testing the shelter’s defenses, gauging their firepower.
If that was true, then the real danger would co later. Once the first wave of awakened ability users and fighters exhausted themselves and shifted out, the mutated zombie might unleash its true strength, driving the horde into a far more ferocious frenzy.
He and Vulture had seen it before, zombies whipped into such savagery that the battle turned into nothing short of a nightmare.
Perhaps the others hadn’t noticed it yet. The fighters inside the shelter were too close, too focused on surviving each clash to see the bigger picture. Sparrow, however, had the distance and the perspective.
Unlike the ten-ter-high walls of HOPE Base, which allowed a clear view of the horde’s movents from afar, the shelter’s low walls offered little vantage. From his elevated position, Sparrow could already tell that the zombies’ agility was still that of the early-stage zombies. But when the real wave ca, it would be worse. Much worse.
The realization made Sparrow draw in a sharp breath. This mutated zombie wasn’t just strong; it was intelligent.
Too intelligent.
It commanded the horde like a general, testing the waters, lulling its enemies into complacency, making them believe they were holding the line when, in truth, they were only being toyed with. It was waiting, watching, letting them think reinforcents would co in ti.
The thought made Sparrow’s urgency spike. He needed to know if Vulture had already inford their Young Madam and Master. Without hesitation, he pressed down on the radio again.
"Vulture, over!"
"Vulture, answer —it’s urgent. Over!"
"Vulture, you pigheaded muscle-brain! You’d better answer or I’ll curse you to die loveless and young!" Sparrow spat furiously into the radio.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, you motherfucker?!" Vulture roared back. From Sparrow’s vantage point, he saw Vulture freeze mid-leap, then push himself back to a safer distance.
With a thunderous stomp, he sent jagged ’Earth Spikes’ erupting from the ground, forming a wall of earth like a porcupine’s back to block and impale the advancing zombies. Only then did he snatch up his radio, his voice booming with nothing but curses upon curses, his fury spilling through every word.
But Sparrow ignored Vulture’s stream of curses and pressed on. "Have you inford the Young Madam and Master about the situation here? Have you even tried contacting them?" he asked, his tone edged with condescension.
Even amidst the deafening chaos—the roars and growls of zombies, the relentless gunfire, and the thunder of explosions—Vulture caught every word. His awakened senses made it impossible for him to miss it.
And only then, with Sparrow’s pointed words ringing in his ears, did Vulture realize that he and Keith hadn’t managed to reach out to their Young Madam at all.
"Shit, I forgot! I’ll go back and inform them!" Vulture cursed, spinning on his heel and sprinting toward the wall. The others stared in confusion, baffled at his sudden retreat, until he vaulted the towering barricade as if its height ant nothing to him.
Landing inside, he rushed straight to Keith, his expression pale and strained. "Sir Keith... I think we forgot to inform your sister about this zombie wave," he admitted, breathless.
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