Some more running later, I saw light at the end of the corridor.

  I stopped to look at the end of the path and hid to see what would be expecting me.

  What I saw was very unpleasant.

  It was a big open space with other corridors connecting it to who knows where. I saw two more besides the one I was currently in.

  On the floor, minor fires gave off light and fresh mutilated human corpses, with blood around them, painted the ground. I could barely recognise the bodies as being one female and one male.

  They were probably one of the “suicide” teams that had to go underground besides mine. They had recently died, their warm blood still dripping from their numerous wounds. Given their state, even if they were to turn, it would take hours.

  At the far end of the open space, four figures were present.

  I felt like one of them already knew someone was watching them.

  The same creature wore a military jacket, with its right arm visible, but its missing left arm was also apparent. It had a crude, bloody, dirty bandage on what was left of its missing arm.

  Seemed to be a wound from not that far ago, maybe from less than a week ago. It was hard to determine the approximate time as the wound was covered.

  Excluding the eyes and the blood on it, it looked like a human.

  As for the other three, I could only curse.

  Two two-point-five-metre-tall Brutes and an ordinary-looking zombie.

  The Brutes had bullet marks on their natural armor, some recent and some almost healed, but nothing that exposed their flesh.

  But the strangest thing was their formation.

  The big boys were on the sides, the wounded one was in the middle and the ordinary-looking zombie was next to the one-armed one’s left side.

  The ordinary zombie wore ragged military clothes without the engraved rank on the shoulders, but had a bulletproof vest like most of the zombified soldiers I saw. While it was human, it was a “mercenary”. It had numerous scratches on its visible body parts and clothes, with a bite mark on the left side of its neck.

  Looking at it more precisely, I could feel something, a miasma of sorts, coming from it. I could not exactly describe what that feeling was. My gut told me it was more than it meets the eye.

  The skin around the bite mark had necrosis and areas of its visible skin had an unnatural, darker colour. It was as if it had the plague.

  Its fingers were longer than what would have been considered normal. Just what was that creature? It was neither a Runner nor a Stalker. Could it be… No, I need more information.

  From all that, I could more or less predict what happened in this base.

  The base was attacked by a horde of no more than medium numbers from the north, probably at night. Despite the humans’ unpreparedness, they did their best to hold the wall. After an intense fight, the human resistance was weakening and they were forced to retreat inwards.

  Some went into the buildings above, while a bigger number went downwards.

  Probably thought they might as well be buried.

  While they were retreating, the decoys they left to buy them time were annihilated faster than expected and part of the zombies gave chase. That forced them to retreat even further, which resulted in the first underground floor taking less structural damage.

  This time, the decoy worked, but from the second and probably the third floor, Bombers were swarming like flies.

  The human resistance finally fell, but the horde took too many losses, leaving it at around a thousand strong.

  As for the maimed Ruler, a group of people, most certainly “mercenaries”, tried to go for the “head of the horde” and neutralise it, but the same move was risky. They did manage to take out an arm, but were either forced to retreat or annihilated.

  That left me wondering, was this all it took for a base to fall? Something did not add up. Even if the horde lost most of its forces, why did it stay here? Was it ordered? Or was the Ruler severely injured? No, the wound was not life-threatening.

  I was missing something, but I could not determine exactly what.

  The “ordinary” zombie was part of the assassination attack. After his downfall, he turned into a zombie and was chosen to become part of the Ruler’s guards.

  As of recently, one of the teams managed to find their way here before me. The result was a decisive defeat.

  The room had a slight stench of fresh blood, but lacked the strong rotting smell most places had.

  ‘Brute’ is a zombie with a height between two and three metres and is somewhat similar to the Bomber in size, but bulkier. It is strong, has some speed and has ‘medium’ amount of natural armor.

  The skin is thick, tough, cracked and dark yellowish. It looks more like a rock than a skin. The creature has no hair, as the armor covers the entirety of its body. Even the gender is hard to guess. The groin area is armored. The only way to determine its gender is to break the armor there and look. The rear is less armored. The limbs of the body are large and thick.

  Underneath the armor lie the muscles and bones of its body and even deeper – the organs. It is heavy and has developed muscles.

  If the entire armor is peeled, it looks horrendous.

  Even if it is considered to be a ‘low’ ranked zombie, it is leagues above the Walkers and Runners.

  It can take rain of bullets and still move.

  The use of guns with high caliber and good velocity is recommended against it, as its armor is insufficient to protect it from such firearms. The use of explosives is justified, as they can swiftly chip away at the armor. Acid and strong corrosive substances can also melt the protective layer in minutes.

  Even if the armor is destroyed, it will eventually regenerate as long as the creature survives. The regeneration process is slow and can take months.

  Usually, one hit to the head with a highly armor-piercing gun would take them down.

  When using guns with lower penetration, the only solution is to chip away at the armor or hit the unarmored parts. Said places could vary, but all have one universal weak spot – the eyes. Another one is the joints, but they are harder to hit and do less harm.

  The intellect is ‘very low’, but it can show a slight strategy while fighting. It might try to hide its face when it charges frontally.

  The charge resembles charging bulls, but it is slower.

  It is quite clumsy in a close fight, but it hits hard. It also eats more food than a Walker.

  Overall, the Brutes are bullet sponges that will splatter any normal human with a single hit.

  But seeing a few or a swarm of them was not a laughing matter.

  Even more so if one was alone, like me.

  The wounded Ruler and I made eye contact. We were looking at one another for about 10 seconds.

  He then made a low scream.

  The other three turned towards my spot, their bloodlust strong, but did not move closer.

  We were at a stalemate. Neither party dared to make the first move.

  From this exchange, I managed to identify that the Ruler was an Overlord.

  How did I do?

  He refused to run away and if everything that had happened thus far to me was according to his commands, then yes, it must be an Overlord. A simple Commander could not see this far ahead.

  If an Overlord could see the picture at an operational level, the Commander could at a tactical and the King and Queen could see it at a strategic level.

  A Commander could not prearrange their resources and strategies to the extent I saw in this mission.

  His attempt at “communication” also proved my prediction. He seemed to be wary of fighting due to his condition. He might let me escape if I backed off now, but “might” was not enough.

  Since I was already detected, what was hiding doing for me?

  I got into the open and the beings were looking at me.

  Except for the Overlord and the “ordinary” zombie, the other two’s gazes were with bloodlust – they knew that prey was there and were waiting for orders. Nothing more, nothing less.

  The first two were watching every one of my moves.

  The Overlord screamed a bunch at me – an attempt to scare me off.

  That was a good sight. It was not confident in fighting me.

  Nor was I in fighting them, but still.

  After his “talk” failed, he gave off his first command with a loud scream as if a banshee was crying.

  At the same time as him, I used a flare. The light from the fires was not enough to brighten the entire area and I did not want to use the flashlight. No matter how I thought of using it, it felt alien to use in practice.

  The Brutes rushed towards me. Their heavy steps shook the ground a little and their presence was intimidating.

  As for my target, he was staying behind with his left guardian next to him, his eyes monitoring me nonstop.

  Did that mean the one next to him was stronger than those two or was he bluffing?

  To find out, I had to deal with the first two. I never expected to face off against two at the same time. I fear I brought too little ammo.

  Anyway, I started shooting with my AK-47. I had 60 bullets left.

  They hid their faces as they were charging.

  This was both a curse and a blessing.

  Curse, because I could not hit the eyes, but even if they did not, I lacked the confidence to shoot that precisely.

  Blessing, because I could dodge their blind charge and make them hit the wall behind me, stunning them for a second or two.

  As there was some distance between us, I had the time to locate and shoot the parts of their bodies with already somewhat chipped-away armor.

  They had sustained the most harm on their arms, but it was the least harmful. It was not worth it.

  I tried going for the legs to slow them down, as with my current ammo count, I was not confident in finishing both of them.

  I focused on the right leg of the closest one. The first few shots did not even make it flinch, but peeled a bit of armor.

  Tch, tough bastard. Let’s see how more it can take.

  After 15 shots, half of which hit the flesh, it slowed down and it got slightly staggered. It even kneeled.

  But it was not going to stay down for long.

  In the meantime, the other one was close enough and it accelerated instantly to charge me. With its limited sight, dodging it was easy. I stepped to the right side and it hit a wall. It got stunned, but it would recover soon.

  This was all within my calculations, but it was ineffective. Even if I were to repeat this cycle, my bullets would end before they sustained enough injuries.

  I used all the left ammo in my magazine on the first Brute’s leg while trying to hit precise shots.

  I did some harm as the staggering made it lose its posture and it even started bleeding, but it was not enough.

  It roared at me as it got up and continued its attack, albeit at a slower pace. The other one also recovered.

  All the while, I was being stared at constantly by the two spectators who might join in when I expected it the least.

  This was why I did not want to get separated from my team, even if they were a potential danger. Having someone distracting my targets was better than being the one they solely focused on.

  When I used the flare to light the area, for a moment, I saw the level above. It barely registered, but it had holes. Many holes.

  There might be a staircase I could use to get up there.

  If I could climb up a floor, I would find a way to deal with the Brutes even if I used all my ammo.

  I hoped that one of the other two corridors would lead up there.

  And so, I picked the closest corridor – to my left.

  The wounded one would have problems chasing me, while the other one had already recovered and was coming right at me.

  I ran like there was no tomorrow, but not at my full speed. I had to hide my real strength from my stalkers.

  I felt a presence from the other corridor. More enemies? No, they seemed to be spectating the fight while hiding their presence.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  I would pretend I never noticed them. For now…

  The path resembled a big, wide, round staircase. I could not describe it well. I saw no reason for it to be that extravagant.

  The path was around two metres tall. With my pursuers being taller than that, it meant that they would have a slight inconvenience catching up to me.

  I found myself in a place that reminded me of the floor when I fell before coming in here, but it had more holes and more places to step on. I preferred this “holey” floor to the “bridge” floor.

  The light from below had a slight effect here, but it was at the bare minimum I needed. I also decided to have the flashlight shining from one of my shallow pockets. It was better than nothing.

  Was this what the third floor looked like? It was as if I were looking at Swiss cheese.

  It felt like half an hour when I was “blessed” and given the experience of “flying”.

  Or was it actually that long ago?

  I had no leisure to check, as I could already hear them coming.

  They came out of the path with a bang and rubble flew in all directions.

  Or to be precise, only one did, with the other one coming soon after.

  The first one had sustained injuries on its face, its nose bleeding slightly.

  Both hid their faces and were readying themselves for another charge.

  I was hoping for that. A blind charge and a high fall could neutralise them without forcing me to waste that many bullets.

  But it was too good to be true.

  My stalker, the Overlord, gave out a new order. I could not know exactly what it was, as I could not understand their language. All I knew was that my current plan went to hell.

  They went after me, but were not guarding, allowing them to see. That meant it would be harder to force them to fall.

  Seems like I would need to give them more “help” with that…

  “Screw you! I’ll go for your head soon! Just you wait!” I screamed like a madman.

  Why? I myself did not know. It was not like they could understand the meaning of human language, could they?

  I was left with 30 more AK rounds. I had to make them count.

  At least one had to die. My pistol could do nothing against those two.

  Since they showed me their weak spot, I might as well thank them with a volley or two.

  The one with the wounded leg was lagging behind, so I took my time with the other one.

  The light from the flare I threw a while ago was getting dimmer.

  While it did not significantly affect my current elevation, it was better than nothing. Still, I mainly relied on my gut feeling and the flashlight.

  I decided to use a flare on this floor. It lit the area and I could see again. With the better visibility, I had no excuses for missing.

  ‘Bang’, ‘Bang’ …

  Shooting, maintaining my foothold on this holey and slightly shaky path and trying not to fall off was a demanding task.

  Especially with the enemy closing in.

  I could not have managed to do all that and count the number of shots I fired.

  We played a bit of tag.

  I ran around, got distance, shot the faster one and when it got close to me and I repeated.

  I went through that cycle four times before successfully chipping enough of the armor on its head. With the skin peeled away, parts of the skull and muscles beneath were revealed.

  At a distance of five metres and with five precise shots, I made one Brute lose balance and fall off through one of the many holes. It hit the ground headfirst.

  It was lifeless. This was perfect timing, as the flare below was about to die out.

  As for my last big “friend”, it was running sloppily towards me.

  Some shots to its wounded leg at the right time and it would fall down.

  I changed my gun’s fire rate from semi-auto to auto. There was no reason to spare the few bullets I had left.

  During those exchanges, the Overlord screamed occasionally to give orders, but I had no time to take note of them.

  As the Brute was getting dangerously close to the edge of a hole, I shot its leg three times.

  Not because I needed exactly three. The reason was…

  ‘Clicked’.

  Out of ammo… The three shots were not enough to make it fall, but it knelled yet again.

  Main gun was out. I put it away as it was time for the secondary. I did not discard the AK as it had been of great service.

  To make sure my shots counted, I closed the distance to less than a meter.

  I thought it was too staggered to retaliate in any meaningful way.

  I was shooting its face, the silencer barely making sounds, but the gun was inefficient. Its skull was too thick.

  In a desperate attempt to get me, the Brute got up and rushed me.

  Meanwhile, I heard a strong scream under me.

  I had little to no will or room for running, so I kept dodging its slow punches while shooting its face. At some point, it covered its eyes with its left palm, reducing its combat ability even further.

  Who knew? It might fall on its own if I allowed it to move, but having it cornered like this was also advantageous.

  It slammed the ground with its fist. I dodged by stepping backwards and distancing myself. I did not want to fall from this height.

  Some small rocks could be heard falling off the path, hitting the ground and some fell into the small puddles of blood.

  I got used to its pattern. I recovered my balance and posture and went closer, my gun to its face. In fist range, I started shooting at its face without stopping. Until I had to reload, but by then it was barely standing, covering its bleeding face with both arms.

  My shooting harmed it as it fell back two steps while hiding its eyes, its breathing ragged and noisy.

  If things continued as they were, everything would have been fine. Another attack like this one and it would be out of the fight, leaving only the other two.

  Only if a miscalculation did not occur.

  No, I did not use all my ammo.

  The scream. The one from a while ago. I should have kept an eye on them.

  It was indeed an order. But not to my “friend” up here with me. It was to the one below me.

  While I was focused on the Brute, the not so “ordinary” zombie relocated to my blind spot and ambushed me. It managed to sneak behind me and landed an attack on me.

  Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my right leg, lost my foothold and fell on the ground.

  Sharp as knives fingers and nails had slashed at the lower part of my right leg, the calf, staggering me and making me stumble backwards.

  By the time I managed to understand what hit me, the big boy in front of me desperately swung both its arms and hit the ground, breaking the floor and making both of us fall.

  For fuck sake, what was that?!

  Not only did you trick me again, you were ready to use all your “pawns” for your survival!

  A real chess player this one was! All of his figurines were used to their fullest!

  I was falling…

  Again…

  As I had a dumbfounded look on my face, I managed to steal a glance at the trickster who tricked me.

  The bastard was grinning from ear to ear. I would make you regret your smile!

  Even if this could do me more harm than good, I aimed my pistol and shot at him.

  Yet, from the five shots, I managed to hit twice, barely. Aiming while falling was harder than I thought.

  I also managed to move the AK from my back to my front with my other arm at the last moment. It did too well to break like this.

  Soon, I hit the hard, cold, wet, dirty, bloody ground.

  My back hurts! I had the taste of blood in my mouth. I gulped it down.

  I feared that my leg was way worse off. I was unable to get up from the pain in my leg. The pain was… it was hard to get used to it. I needed a minute or two and a painkiller or two…

  The Overlord was coming towards me slowly, still showing that sinister smile, having some grazes on its body from my attempt at shooting, but nothing fatal.

  “Heh… HEHEHEHEHE…”

  Bastard even dared to laugh!

  The Brute was getting up very slowly, but surely, and as for the one who tried to assassinate me, it had returned from the upper floor and was already next to its master’s side.

  I tried to get up while he continued to approach slowly, his laughter subdued, but that annoying grin on his face persisted.

  The Overlord was still wary of something.

  The onlookers were holding their breath. I wondered when they would join in? I could use a distraction any time now. I thought I was at the limit of what a normal “mercenary” should be surviving.

  He was menacingly coming closer, every step echoing. That was good or the ‘Special’, or as others call it ‘Mutant’, would have tried to kill me already.

  There was a document, forbidden for the public eye, classifying the different types of zombies.

  Although it was not perfect, it was efficient enough.

  Zombies that did not fall into that category, like that creature over there, were exceptions and were called Mutans or Specials.

  Now, the document has improvements. The so-called Specials were added.

  Not every sight of Special was recorded nor was it written down.

  But what decides whether a Special should be added or not?

  Only specific groups and behaviours of zombies that live in particular regions or areas are recorded. There are some exceptions to that rule.

  If I were uncertain what exactly a zombie was, I would call it Special.

  Specials have different ‘stats’ than others that should be their equivalent in the ‘Common’ class.

  Due to them being relatively rare and hard to determine in a mob of other zombies, individual Specials are usually missed out.

  Until one realised that its pattern was different or it did things that it was not supposed to do in theory, one could not tell.

  And even if it did, it could just be luck.

  They are unpredictable, even more so than the “normal” ones.

  One had to be ready for anything from them.

  Of all Specials, an ‘Infector’, a rare and dangerous mutation, was before me.

  Infector is a mutated Runner or a Stalker with higher agility and stronger infection.

  This creature is in the class ‘Infectors’.

  Its entire skin has a dark hue with numerous large and small necrosis spots. Its blood is dark red and its hands have longer fingers with extremely sharp and durable nails that grow fast. It prefers to move on two feet, unlike the Stalkers, who often moved on all fours.

  The most threatening about it was its stronger infection.

  Excluding the small necrosis on its bite mark, the one before me had too many clothes to spot the necrosis. I felt it was bad news, but now I knew why.

  The “normal” zombies, like Walkers, Runners, Bombers and Brutes, are part of the class ‘Common’. ‘Rulers’ is also a class, as they are worth one just on their own.

  The rarer a zombie was, the more unknowns there were about it.

  The class division was added and officially accepted 10 years ago and could use improvements.

  By now, 50 or so years after the initial outbreak, humanity had managed to adapt somewhat to the virus.

  As long as one did not die forcefully from an attack with additional infection, they would not turn into a zombie.

  The theory was complex, so I would skip it. Not that I knew it perfectly. I am no biologist.

  Zombies with ‘high’ infection would turn a human into a zombie if the human receives no medical intervention. Such zombies are quite rare and are valued by the smart zombies.

  The process is painful for the infected subject and can take up to 168 hours if the infected person were in perfect health.

  Zombies with ‘medium’ infection will make a person sick and reduce the healing speed of wounds. They are rare, but are also valued.

  There is a 99.9% chance of turning into a zombie if one were to die during the time of such sickness.

  If a person dies from a zombie with a ‘low’ infection, there is a high chance of turning into one.

  As long as the body had no major inner or outer injuries, it could turn into a zombie. Even if a human were to turn, how long would it survive without a neck?

  During the process of turning into a zombie, the body experiences ‘emergency repair’ – most minor wounds close or at least the bleeding stops.

  If a person dies without any injuries from a zombie, they will not turn into one. Long-dead corpses cannot turn into zombies and already killed zombies cannot revive.

  All zombies have ‘low’ infection by default.

  Although rare, exceptions do exist.

  I was confident in my resistance to the virus, but not much in staying alive long enough.

  While I was thinking about all that for who knows why, the Brute already got up and was staggering towards me.

  It needed a little bit more to stay down for good.

  I had enough rest and tried to get up. The process was slow and hurt like hell.

  When I got up, I moved my wounded leg to test it. Moving my burning leg was painful and walking was a demanding task. Still, I would rather be in excruciating pain than feel nothing. Pain meant I was alive.

  I could feel the burning pain of my bleeding leg. I was losing the warm liquid at an alarming rate and the need for movement would not reduce it. It might even get worse.

  My back was also hurt. It should be bruised substantially.

  My handgun fell out when I hit the cold, hard ground. I had only my trusty knife with me now, my last equipment. I held it with my right arm.

  The closest enemy was the Brute.

  That made it my target. The fall damaged it. Most of its armor on the face and neck was destroyed and it bled from a few spots. One of its eyes was gone and its left arm was unmoving.

  I still hoped I would not be doing anything that would have me use that drug afterwards, but as things were…

  I also wish those two from the third corridor would stop spying on me and help me or otherwise I might need to shut them up myself if they were to see something they should not have…

  The Brute and I rushed (if our sluggish gait could be called as such) to harm each other as if we were sworn enemies.

  Ignoring the burning, nonstop pain in my leg was doable. It was by no means pleasant or easy, but I have sustained worse injuries over the years.

  I left myself unprotected as its huge fist would have rendered all guarding useless and dodging with my leg’s condition was also challenging, but not impossible.

  I went fully on the offence. The first to deal the critical damage would be the winner.

  That bastard was enjoying my struggle from the sidelines. He was confident I was on my last legs. The poor thing had no idea how wrong it was.

  My forearms felt tight.

  Seconds before the Brute and I made contact and when I had decided to stop playing around, gunshots were heard.

  ‘Bang’, ‘Bang’, ‘Bang’ …

  They were aimed at the Brute. Most of the shots hit the back, but a few ricocheted. It was obvious it harmed it.

  Was its back that much damaged?

  Said shots made it lose its posture. Its wavering punch became even weaker, allowing me to evade it barely by millimetres. I slashed its neck. I was unable to behead it, but it was enough.

  It fell to the ground, never to get up again, blood gushing out of its neck wound, it was slightly twitching, but soon became stationary.

  The flare was dimming once again. I used the last one.

  It was all in for me now. I hoped it would help my “saviours” to finish the last two.

  Screams once again.

  What was that beast going to do now? The grimace he showed was nowhere to be seen. He now looked serious, maybe even worried.

  It looked like he was too focused on me and could not detect the ones who finally decided to join.

  The Infector rushed furiously towards me while my target tried to retreat somewhere.

  One tiny detail made that plan unusable – there was nowhere for him to run off to.

  I was close to one of the exits, the other party was on the second and the third one was the furthest from where he was. The lack of cover made the crossing risky.

  The fast fire rate of the unknown party was starting to slow down. It seemed like they were low on ammo.

  Shots from handguns were being fired.

  They did not fire at the Infector. The closer it got to me, the riskier it was to shoot it. They might hit me.

  Well, I was the perfect decoy.

  As long as the zombie was focused on me, it would not go for them.

  And if it just happened for me to die, they would have already dealt with the other one.

  Like hell was I going to let it play that way, though.

  That thing made my time in here hell. Why would I let him “die” peacefully? At the very least, I need to hit him once more.

  I grabbed my knife with the sharp edge, aimed and threw it.

  The Infector dodged. As I wanted it to.

  My knife plunged into the Overlord’s leg, making him fall. How was that, bastard?

  After the ecstasy of “fulfilled” revenge calmed down, I realised what idiocy I had done.

  I was going to go into melee with someone who had 10 knifelike fingers soon and I threw my only knife away.

  At this point, I wondered whether I wanted to die.

  The distance between us was closed in an instant.

  It knew I had nothing to defend myself with and it rushed. If it killed me fast, it might be able to distract the other two and allow the Overlord to escape.

  It swung its arms fiercely at me. First left, then immediately followed up by the right arm. Rinse and repeat.

  I barely dodged the first attack, evaded the second one, but I did not know how long I could continue.

  It had no impressive fighting style and no technique – just brute speed and sharp claws, yet all that was enough. The basics are the best, after all.

  I could nearly dodge its consecutive attacks at the last moment with my sluggish footwork while slowly retreating backwards.

  I would not be able to make it lose balance with a good kick. I had to get used to its fury of attacks and counter at the right moment.

  The same went for it, but for my defence.

  At the start, it missed everything, but the more attacks it launched, the shorter my ground for retreating became and it was closer to hitting me.

  ‘Slash’.

  I got parts of my clothes slashed.

  ‘Slash’.

  It scratched my left cheek.

  As it was about to hit my neck with its right hand, I was forced to parry with my left.

  My forearm and its nails touched.

  ‘Clang’.

  The sharp nails hit my arm slightly below my wrist.

  Or to be precise, I made it do so.

  It gave me some look, but it was hard to describe exactly what the meaning was.

  It had expected to slice off my hand and finish me in the next move.

  “What is it, bastard? You are not the only one wearing armor!”

  While speaking, I got hold of its right arm during the momentary stop.

  It tried to retaliate with its other arm, but I grabbed its wrist. I held the hands with the intention to break them.

  It struggled, trying to break free and bite, but I kept a safe distance from its mouth and had a strong grip on it.

  I used my strength, managed to make it lose balance and forced it to its knees.

  It continued to scream – the only thing it could do.

  I tore off its right arm and threw it, while breaking the other one, leaving it to dangle.

  It started to bleed, losing its dark red blood fast.

  It tried getting up, but a hit behind the head was enough to put it down for a little longer.

  While I was dodging, I was in fact retreating to where my pistol had fallen.

  And now, while it needed some time to recover, I went to get my gun back.

  The first thing I did after being united with the gun was to reload it, as I had already used all the ammo in the magazine during the fall.

  Bad memories.

  It tried getting up, but it was too late. My laser dot was already pointed between its eyes.

  ‘Bang’.

  And my adversary was not going to wake up again.

  As for the last one…

  It was hiding behind some cover outside of the sight of my support. It was like a cornered rat.

  Look at thee! It seems I would also be saying a ‘Hello’ to you!

  I was getting closer slowly. No, it was not for payback or to look menacingly. Not this time, at least. My leg would not allow me to be faster.

  As for my supporters, they were getting closer.

  They realised that the engagement was more or less over.

  “Hello there! You seem to be moving badly! As I am!”

  ‘Bang’, ‘Bang’.

  One shot to the fine leg and one to the arm.

  A quick kick made him fall over and I could do “things” with my knife safely.

  First, I had to extract it from his leg. It was plunged very deep.

  I pinned it with my healthy leg, then turned the knife and pulled it. It groaned from the pain.

  As for what I would do to that thing… I just wanted to see his “fearful” face.

  But how to do so?

  Easy: five stabs to the legs, a torn off arm later and when I held him by the hair to see his expression, he was looking as I wanted.

  He nonstop attempted to break free and screamed, but it was futile. Now, while I held him by the hair, he was silent. He had realised that there was no way out of the situation.

  The fear I could see from his grimace! I even detected tears!

  It was SO delightful.

  Almost made all the pain go away from me, even for a moment!

  But I was not done yet. I got the edge of my knife near his left eye. I pierced it. He screamed in agony. I let him calm down and pierced his other eye. It struggled and screamed with all he had, but to no avail.

  I would have loved to continue, but I did not know what the other two’s intentions were.

  “Please… kill… me…”

  He spoke. Was he evolving? At such a time?

  “If you tell me who is ordering you.”

  “Kill… me…”

  He would not betray his league. It was something I could respect.

  I could not allow the others to realise he could speak.

  With a final stab to the head, he died.

  This mission was harder than it should have been…